Page 68 of The Frog Prince

The man spat on the ground between them then stomped back toward the tavern, leaving Henne quietly burning with anger.

Alwin reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple brooch, taking one last look at it before bargaining it away. It disappeared in a wisp of green magic, and an opaque double of himself appeared a few feet away.

Alwin sent it crashing through the trees.

Henne’s sharp gaze snapped that way, his steps surprisingly quick as he followed the specter farther out of town.

Farwin slipped from his spot perched on top of Alwin’s head, his face hanging upside down in front of Alwin’s left eye.

“That should take care of him for an hour or so,” Alwin said, watching until Henne was out of sight before slipping easily from the treetop. These fingers were more than strong enough to help him climb like any common tree frog. “He doesn’t stay away for long. Unfortunately, he’s not completely unintelligent.”

Frogs make noise all night again?

Alwin smiled. Part of his plan was to keep Henne on the edge by having his frogs make a ruckus under his window every night. “Maybe let him get some sleep tonight, but drive him a bit mad?”

Mad.Farwin tilted his head.Not know mad.

“It means crazed. Not behaving right.”

Mad now, Farwin pointed a tiny finger in the direction Henne had disappeared.

Alwin chuckled. “More mad.”

More.Farwin nodded seriously.Move things. Hide.

“That’s a good idea. Don’t take it too far though. We just want to slow him down. Jurgen always said that unpredictability was a man’s greatest weapon. Your opponent won’t be able to predict your next move and counter.”

Jurgen doesn’t move. Just sits in mud. Doesn’t talk. Ignores frogs,Farwin complained.

Alwin’s heart twinged with grief. “A different Jurgen to our dear toad friend, but very similar. Very wise. So we should listen to their advice.”

Henne slow. Dry,Farwin said.

“But still dangerous,” Alwin cautioned, taking him in hand. “Tell the other frogs. I’ll head back. Otto should be finished soon.”

Farwin hopped away, ecstatic about the prospect of creating more chaos, and Alwin cautiously picked his way through the forest, jumping from shadow to shadow and avoiding any shaft of light as he circled the village to the other side.

He crept closer, spotting Otto’s large form through the window. He knelt next to an old madam’s bed, her frail hand cupped in his large ones as he listened and nodded at whatever she was saying.

Alwin had a vision of Otto in Hallin colors, appreciated for his talents, just as humbly treating both young and old, rich and poor.

He cast his mind back to their almost-kiss in the alcove. The encounter in the pond. He hadn’t imagined it. Hadn’t dreamed it, or the gentle way Otto had treated him after.

The vision suddenly didn’t seem so far out of reach.

Something was changing. Had changed. It wasn’t love—Alwin’s skin still shimmered with green—but it was an open door. An opportunity, for the first time.

He waited about an hour for Otto to finish, falling into step with him as he headed home, taking the long, rarely used path along the tree line so Alwin could join him.

“Final one?” Alwin asked.

Otto nodded, lips pinched tight.

“I don’t believe she will be here when we get back,” he said somberly. “I wish I could help now, but she’s too far gone.”

Alwin looked down, wishing he could somehow take away Otto’s pain.

“You are doing everything you can,” he said. He so desperately wanted to take Otto’s hand. To squeeze it and offer comfort. He wanted to be the one who could settle Otto’s worries. Be the calm in the storm like Otto was for him.