Page 13 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

Alwin got to his feet, the remaining shreds of his dignity already battered beyond what he could stand.

“Wait!”

Alwin met Otto’s eyes flatly.

“Gisela will be healthy?” Otto asked in a small voice.

“The deal we made is bound by magic. As long as we uphold it, all terms of it will be fulfilled.”

“Otto…” Gisela said.

Otto shook his head. “Fine.”

There was a protective curve to his spine as he leaned toward his sister. A determined set to his shoulders as he said the word. Defeat and acceptance written on his beautiful face.

Alwin had never made friends with betrayal or lies, the poison of them not to be borne. But here he was, staring at the one who had tried to deceive him, and he could think about nothing except how beautiful he was.

Pathetic.

Unwise.

“Lovely,” Alwin said.

Farwin croaked from his pocket.

“I will take Gisela to stay with a family friend,” Otto said.

“What? Why?” Gisela asked as Otto ushered her toward the door.

“We only have two rooms in this house. I will take your bedroom, the…Frog Prince can take mine,” he said, opening the door and pushing his sister out, all the while curbing her protests.

Alwin watched as he popped his head back through the door and fixed him with a stare. “I will be back in a few moments.”

“I shall wait for you with bated breath,” Alwin drawled, making Otto scowl.

“Do not touch anything.”

“I would scarcely dream of it.” Alwin raised both hands in the air, and Otto’s eyes fell on the four fingers with bulbous tips.

Alwin swallowed the bile in his throat and put his hands down, discreetly placing them behind his back in a way he knew looked casual and relaxed.

Otto slammed the door behind him, and Alwin listened as he bickered with his sister until the distance swallowed the words.

Alwin took a turn about the room, keeping his hands at his back as he moved unobserved.

Eventually, he took the same seat at the table and waited, the oil burning away in its glass container. He watched it flicker and move, dancing gracefully behind a screen.

Farwin hopped out of his pocket and sprawled flat on the small table, drawing his attention. He watched him hop over to a crumb of food and scoop it up into his mouth.

Yum , he said.

Alwin grabbed him by the waist and hooked a finger into his mouth before he could swallow. “You cannot eat that. Not to mention it does not belong to you. We are not thieves in the night.”

Farwin let the morsel drop, long tongue hanging from his mouth and big eyes confused.

Alwin shook his head, turning Farwin on his palm and holding him up to his face. “You are a very silly frog.”

Farwin sucked his tongue back in and croaked in protest.

Alwin tapped him on the nose in reprimand. “I’ll hear no arguments to the contrary.”

Farwin’s eyes crossed as they followed his finger before rotating back to their spots. Alwin bit down on his smile, lowered Farwin back to the wood, then turned his attention back to the lamp. He placed his elbow on the table and laid his head in his hand.

Such a simple thing to miss.

“If only illumination were so powerful,” he murmured, holding his hand up to create a shadow, manipulating it into a poor facsimile of a human shape, “that it could reveal truth in even the darkest of places.”

Farwin hopped onto the shadow playfully, not understanding the depth of his musings. Like a rock thrown into a water reflection, he scattered it.

Alwin sighed and dropped his hand. “Come. He’ll be back soon.”

Farwin croaked and flicked his tongue at the door. Mean.

“Just scared, my friend,” Alwin said. “It’s no wonder.”

Handsome.

“That he is,” he murmured.

Farwin croaked in disagreement. Majesty.

“I’m handsome?” Alwin asked in shock.

Frogs say.

“Tell the frogs thank you from me,” Alwin said with a wry smile, self-disgust lingering under the surface. He adjusted his high collar and tried to not let it overwhelm him. “But I’m a monster by human standards. As far away from handsome as one can possibly get.”

Another croak of confusion. Wrong. Ugly. Dry.

“Have I taught you to counter insults with ones of your own? He helped you, you know.”

Truth. Dry, Farwin grumbled.

“Be that as it may, their opinion is the one that counts.” His voice gave out at the end, because it was the biggest truth in his life.

Yes, he used to be a prince.

Yes, he used to be worthy of loving.

Yes, he was now a monster.

Yes, his very presence instilled fear in those who saw him.

All truths.

The biggest one of all was the fact that Alwin needed a human to be more than just human. He needed someone to see past human standards, walk past human prejudice, let go of human expectations.

He needed someone to let go of being human, to help him turn back into some semblance of one.

The door to the house opened again and Otto stepped back inside, slowly. Carefully. He turned to Alwin even as he closed the door, leaning against it and not taking a step farther into the room.

A stalemate began. Tense. Like the calm before a battle, each side wondering who would make the first move. Farwin crawled back into his pocket.

Alwin had never shied away from a tough situation, however. He gestured toward the other chair at the table. “Please.”

Otto appeared as if he would rather throw himself into a pit of thorns, but a stubborn tilt to his chin formed, a flash of something regal in it that made Alwin blink, wondering if he was back in court for a single moment before it faded completely.

“It is my chair,” Otto grumbled.

He shuffled to claim it, taking the scenic route around the far end of the table that wouldn’t have him walking past Alwin.

He gripped the back of it and pulled it out, the scrape against the floor loud in the silence.

He sat down stiffly, not making any effort to tuck himself under the table.

Leaving his legs free to take him away should he need them to.

Precautions. Against him.

“Well…” he said when they fell to silence again.

“Well what?”

Alwin tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “I believe I am owed an apology.”

Otto was taken aback. “You wish an apology?”

“So surprised. I wonder at the reasoning. Am I too much a monster to deserve one?” Alwin asked with a wry twist of his lips. “Or are you simply too proud to deliver it?”

He didn’t wait to receive the answer, in truth, fearing the former so much that he quickly changed the subject.

“I am quite hungry. How about you make me something to eat?”

Otto opened his mouth as if he was thinking of responding anyway before he closed it again, a storm of emotions rioting underneath the surface.

“There is more stew,” Otto said quietly. “I can heat it up.”

“A disappointing start, companion. It was not prepared by you, for me.”

“I can’t afford to waste food,” Otto said tersely before a shadow fell over his face and he took a deep breath. “Even if I earned well as a healer’s apprentice, this is all we have.”

Alwin looked at him for a moment, looking for any sign of deception. Another hint that the kind man he had seen that day at his well was truly there. Otto’s eyes were clouded and distant. His voice sounded tired and heavy. He looked battle worn and weary.

Alwin could relate.

“Stew sounds acceptable. I haven’t had warm food in a while.”

Alwin followed Otto with his eyes as he moved to the cooking pot hanging over the fireplace. He used a cloth to pull it out and ladled a portion into an earthenware bowl, making sure not to waste a single drop.

Alwin had watched the famine spread, slowly but surely across both kingdoms. Not even the creatures of the forest were spared. His frogs brought news of death and desolation more and more frequently, Alwin unable to do anything to stop it.

He thought back to the many who had sought him out, not for riches or power, but for a simple meal. As much as they could bargain for. He pictured the reverence each morsel was treated with as he did his best to stem the tide and provide relief.

A simple meal was a feast for some. A wish for others.

He knew that more now, after surviving in the forest for so long with only himself to depend on.

Otto came back to the table and slid the bowl over to him with a spoon, keeping the wood between them.

Alwin wrapped his fingers around the bowl, and Otto snatched his back before their skin could touch, reacting as if he were a snake or a spider about to bite.

Alwin ignored the hurt in his heart, brazening it out like he hadn’t noticed at all.

Instead, he looked down at the stew and marveled at it.

He picked up the spoon awkwardly and scooped up a bite, only for it to slip from his fingers and clatter to the table, making Otto jump in fright and leaving a mess of cooked vegetables and broth on the wooden surface.

He watched the patterns the stew made on the wooden floor, feeling shame flood him like a tide. He was poised. Graceful. He was a damn prince. His entire upbringing had been spent learning how to behave, how to exemplify the status and class he belonged to.

In this moment he was unable to pretend he was still that person.

Embarrassed beyond bearing and feeling those blue eyes boring into him, seeing everything he never wanted another person to see, he pasted on a quick smile, reaching for another mask, an act to cover up his vulnerable parts.

“Apologies.” He picked the utensil back up, fumbling with it for a second, this time on purpose. “I don’t have many opportunities to use one of these.”

“It’s…fine,” Otto said, gaze still too searching, maybe slightly pitying. “Take your time.”

“I would, but then the stew will get cold, and like I said, I have been craving a warm meal.” He locked eyes with Otto brazenly. “Would you mind lending a hand?”

Otto jerked back in shock. “H-how?”

Alwin nudged the spoon toward him across the table. “You have had much more practice with this.”

“You want me to feed you?” he asked, outraged.

Alwin nodded, relieved as it clouded the room, giving him something to hide behind.

“It is the most practical solution,” Alwin drawled.

“You can take the bowl and drink it!” Otto sputtered.

“That would be uncouth.”

“And living in moss-covered ruins in the middle of a swamp isn’t?”

The jabs were so precise Alwin had to wonder if Otto had been trained to deliver them so well.

“That is a need,” Alwin said. “This is a choice.”

“A fine distinction.”

“Indeed. Yet a distinction just the same.”

Otto set his jaw again, so beautifully stubborn, and Alwin was about to let him off the hook when he grasped the spoon and moved his chair closer.

Alwin had to fight not to widen his eyes and back up, caught completely off guard as Otto scooped up a spoonful of stew and held it up to Alwin’s wide mouth. He was refusing to look him in the eye, refusing to even acknowledge what he was about to do.

His hand was shaking wildly, spilling drops of broth everywhere.

Alwin reached up and wrapped his fingers around Otto’s wrist. Steady. Cool. Unnatural on warm human skin. The sticky pads clung with gentle suction, tugging with the slightest movement and making Alwin suppress a croak.

Otto’s eyes snapped up to his and his lips parted on a gasp. His hand froze in midair, firm in Alwin’s grasp.

Not breaking eye contact for a moment, Alwin leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon as best he could, using his grip on Otto’s wrist to pull it out clean of any food.

He turned his head fully to swallow, knowing how it looked, how disgusting it would seem. He released Otto’s wrist from his tingling grip, expecting him to spring away at the earliest opportunity.

He was surprised that Otto was still sitting there, eyes on his face and tiny pink marks on his exposed skin. Alwin fought back a croak.

“Why did you turn away?” Otto asked curiously.

“I have manners.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a lie.”

Alwin leaned in and felt Otto’s gasp on his face. “You would know.”

Otto’s curiosity was immediately replaced with a scowl, and Alwin cursed himself as Otto pulled away. He cleaned up, pouring what was left of their meal back into the pot so it didn’t go to waste.

Alwin watched his back with mournful eyes.

“I’m tired. I am heading to bed,” Otto said after the fire was banked.

“Very well,” Alwin murmured, exhausted by the exchange. “If you would be so kind as to show me where I will be sleeping?”

Otto met his eyes again, pausing again like there was something he wanted to say before dismissing it and leading him down a small hallway and up a creaky set of stairs. He pointed to the first bedroom.

“I’ll sleep in my sister’s room. You can take mine. I’ll just change the sheets…”

“There’s no need.”

“I—”

“I have a feeling I will sleep much better with your scent on the pillow,” he said honestly.

With a final look at the soft flush coloring Otto’s cheeks, he walked into the room provided to him and shut the door.