Page 33 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

Even if he could hope against hope that his curse may eventually be broken, there were people in the village who needed them. If Alwin was fixed tomorrow, he couldn’t return home. Even if the town was cured the next day, he still couldn’t.

In all his fervor to rid himself of the curse, he’d bargained too much of himself at this point to be fit for a throne. He didn’t quite know how much of him was left.

Prince? Jurgen said.

Alwin shook his head, his heart aching so much he had to put a hand to it to stem the bleeding. “Are they happy, Jurgen?”

It was a ridiculous question to ask a toad, but Jurgen was more than that in Alwin’s eyes.

Hallin celebrates, Jurgen said, flicking his tongue out at Alwin. Happy.

Alwin closed his eyes again and nodded to himself. “That’s good. Maybe this is how it was meant to be after all.”

He got back to his feet, taking the longer path back to avoid getting wet.

Alwin rounded the corner and froze in place.

Otto was standing next to a fire that had been made inside a small circle of stones near the wall. His wet clothes were draped there to dry, while he himself was only wearing new, dry breeches and his boots, his braces hanging from their buttons down to his knees.

His entire torso was on display, the broad expanse of his back catching the flickering firelight. Soft peachy tones warmed into amber hues. When he looked over his shoulder at Alwin, the color reflecting in his blue irises was umber.

Alwin had never seen anything so lovely.

“Is the fire okay here?” Otto asked. “The magic is starting to wear off.”

Quickly averting his eyes, Alwin nodded. “Yes. I’ll have someone watch over it and we can build another in the next room. I apologize for not thinking of it when we arrived.”

Otto shrugged, muscles dancing under his skin. When he turned to face him, his sparse chest hair glistened like spun gold. “Moss blankets are surprisingly warm.”

Alwin had to turn around before he fell at Otto’s feet in supplication. “I’ll let you finish changing and meet you there.”

He escaped from the room, adjusting his collar again, the skin too sensitive after Otto’s attentions.

Building the fire calmed him. There was a broken fireplace that was perfect to set it in, and he’d asked his frogs to bring him kindling. It had caught nicely and was crackling away when Otto walked into the room, fully dressed.

Alwin refused to be disappointed.

They had work to do.

Otto went to the apothecary desk and pulled over his satchel, reaching inside to grab his notes and the vials containing the Blue Moons.

Taking the place at his side, Alwin asked, “Where do we start?”

“I need to test its properties first. To see if it reacts like other herbs I know. Is there any way to send a message to the frogs who live around where these grow?”

Alwin stood up straighter. “Of course.”

“Could you ask them if any animal has consumed these? And if so, how did they react? What were their symptoms, if there were any? Or do they avoid them completely?”

“I’ll send my fastest messenger.”

“Don’t let Farwin hear you say that,” Otto teased, watching him go.

Alwin smiled to himself as he located a small tree frog, relaying his instructions and sending it off. He watched after it for a while. It was always tough to send his frogs beyond the borders of his protection.

He did a quick lap around the perimeter, checking to see if the light from the fires was drawing undue attention. Luckily, they couldn’t be seen from far out and were small enough not to create much smoke.

Satisfied, he made the trek back, finding Otto bent over his table, his notes spread out and knife precisely cutting while something grey simmered in a glass jar.

Instead of being a nuisance, Alwin settled into the corner in a froggish crouch to observe him, ready for anything he might need. He drew his golden ball out of his inner pocket to work it over in his hands.

Otto was engrossed, oblivious to the rest of the world passing him by or Alwin’s return. He often scrawled notes or muttered to himself. He held up vials of various substances, mixing some, observing others for long periods for any signs of change.

His patience was seemingly endless…until it wasn’t.

Alwin startled as Otto threw his pen aside, running a hand through his hair in agitation before turning to Alwin. “I don’t understand it.”

“What’s the matter?” Alwin asked, pocketing his treasure.

Otto caught sight of it before he could. “I thought you tossed that in the well to seal our deal?”

“My frogs fished it out for me,” he said, refusing to feel embarrassed. “That was mostly for dramatic effect.”

Otto stared at him, lips twitching. “Dramatic effect?”

“Don’t pretend you know nothing of it—” Alwin attempted to divert the subject. “—what with your hair pulling and melodramatic sighs.”

“I have good reason for the drama.” Otto blew out another deep breath. “This is going nowhere. Every attempt to work it out fails outright. It accepts no process. Heat. Cold. Water. Crushing. Cutting. Mixing. Pressing. It’s like as soon as it’s manipulated, it turns to this.”

He held up the greyish liquid Alwin had seen in the beaker and a handful of shriveled grey husks in his palm. Nothing left of the vibrant Blue Moons.

“Maybe it should be ingested whole?” Alwin offered.

“To disintegrate as soon as it hits the stomach?”

Alwin conceded the point with a tilt of his head.

Otto pursed his lips and clenched his fist. “There’s something I’m missing. I don’t want to waste what I have.”

“If we need to go back, we can. It’s for a worthy cause.”

“I know.” Otto shook his head, looking a little lost. “But I don’t even know if this is the answer. All we have is a myth. Perhaps I should look elsewhere.”

“I understand your frustration, but don’t give up so easily. It is only day one, after all. We can look at all options. A narrow scope does no good, but neither does casting a net so wide it pulls everything in.”

Otto calmed with his words. “You’re right.” He sighed and looked around at the mess. “I should stopper some of these, just in case.”

He looked around himself, his frown deepening the more he searched.

“What is missing?” Alwin asked, getting back to his feet.

“There don’t seem to be any storage supplies.”

It wasn’t so large of a request. Alwin might be able to trade a belonging for it.

“Wait here.”

“Alwin, no. You don’t have to trade away anything else for me. I’ll do it.”

Alwin smiled. “It’s of little consequence. They are just material things.”

“Not to me.” Alwin met his serious gaze. “You made your frogs retrieve your golden ball from the bottom of a well, and I’ve seen how you handle your clothes so carefully. They’re a part of you. You treasure them.”

Alwin felt as transparent as glass.

“The magic requires a trade.”

“Then take from me.”

Alwin refused outright.

Otto set his jaw. “Half the value then.”

Alwin tilted his head, not expecting that compromise. “Half?”

Otto held out his hand to shake on it and Alwin smothered a laugh of surprise, his heart aching with the kindness.

He stepped forward and shook. “I’ll bring some options.”

“I’ll grab my bag.”

They went in different directions, Alwin retracing the path to his chest and dragging it all the way back and through the ruined doorway. Otto glanced up from where he was emptying his own things onto the desk, then rounded the table.

Otto looked from him to the chest and back again. “Is this yours?”

“It’s something from long ago,” Alwin said quietly.

Otto frowned at him for a moment before turning back to the chest itself. He looked it over, rubbing at the fine carvings underneath the moss. He drew in a shocked breath. “This is the Hallin royal seal! Wait…no…this is different…”

Alwin stiffened. That was Alwin’s personal seal, not his family’s. A single green leaf in front of a sun motif instead of a tree like the full royal crest. But how did Otto know that?

He watched Otto trace the lines, brow heavily furrowed as if he was trying to recall something long since passed. “I’ve seen this once before, but it escapes me. Do you know what this is from?” he asked Alwin eagerly.

Alwin couldn’t answer, the magic intervening.

“Someone dead,” Alwin said instead.

Otto was not unintelligent, and his brilliant mind worked over the words swiftly.

“The missing prince!” he gasped. “Do you know what happened to him? Rumors swirled around both kingdoms, but there was never a definitive answer as far as anyone knows.”

Alwin’s heart hammered, the truth so close, if only Otto could reach it. But why would he jump to such a conclusion, that Alwin could be Prince Adalwin of Hallin?

“How do you know the personal seal of a long-dead prince?” Alwin asked instead of answering something he couldn’t.

Otto paused, something passing over his face momentarily. “I… My family background isn’t as humble as it seems.”

Alwin met his troubled expression with an open one of his own, inviting him silently to continue.

“My father was a nobleman in Falchovari,” Otto said. “I grew up with a view of the queen’s castle and ate at grand tables in court as a child. Until my father brought his family to ruin and escaped with my sister and me to a place as far from the reaches of the court as possible.”

A flicker of a memory ran through Alwin’s mind.

Gold.

Shining. Brilliant. Beautiful.

He gasped.

It could not be.

“When?” he asked, breathless.

“We left when we were still children. Maybe my eleventh winter? I don’t remember much of that time or the time before, just blurry memories. I think that’s where I must have seen this. It couldn’t have been anywhere else,” Otto murmured, rubbing a thumb over the crest.

Alwin’s mind was a whirlwind.

Could fate really have brought them together twice in one lifetime?

The pieces were all there.

He took the golden ball from his pocket and stared at it in shock. He rubbed his bulbous thumb over the faded imprint of a name long forgotten.

The boy who had gifted it to him…was Otto?

But he did not remember this ball. He had seen it many times and given it nothing but a cursory glance. He did the same now, only glancing at it briefly before moving his gaze back to Alwin’s.

“Did you ever meet the prince?” Alwin found himself asking. “While you were at court?”

Otto shook his head slowly, brows furrowed as he tried to remember. “No one so esteemed, I think. I spent most of my time hiding in the gardens with a few other children. Those are the only memories I have.”

Alwin smiled and let out a small, rueful laugh. “Of course.”

Of course it had to be you.

“What is so humorous?” Otto asked.

“Nothing. I can just picture it like I was there.” He squeezed the ball tighter.

He could never reveal the truth. The words were tangled up in the chains of magic, silent screams echoing in the prison of his own mind.

He could only hope that one day Otto would remember.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I understand better than most what it’s like to lose everything,” Alwin murmured.

“I do not mourn him,” Otto said. “Nor the life we could have had. Maybe my mother…though memories of her as well are few and clouded. I have Gisela and that is all that matters to me.”

Alwin was in awe of his hopefulness in the face of tragedy.

“How do you know the prince died?” Otto asked, unaware of his revelations. “It was assumed after some time passed that he had, but as I’ve recently learned, rumors are never facts.”

“He offended a witch by refusing her what she desired, so she set a trap for him in the forest that he and his people fell into,” Alwin said in a shaky voice. “She killed them first, silently, as punishment. He didn't even know they lay dead at his feet until he turned to find their faces.”

Otto’s quiet gasp was all that could be heard over the crackle of the fire.

“Some were too young, others old enough that they deserved to spend the rest of their lives in peace,” he said. “None of them deserved such a fate.”

He turned to stare into the flames, nightmarish faces taunting him, cursing him. He wanted to beg them for mercy, to get on his knees and plead and supplicate, to pay restitution even though it would never be enough.

“Alwin?” Otto called. It sounded like he’d been calling for some time.

Alwin ripped his eyes away from the flames and shook his head.

“Are you all right?” Otto asked, shuffling closer on his knees until he was in front of him.

“Once she was satisfied with his despair, she punished the prince,” Alwin said instead of answering. “A pitiable end.”

“You were there for it all?” Otto asked softly as the silence drifted between them for a time.

Alwin closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“It’s a terrible fate. I’m sorry.”

“The prince was a fool. He deserves no compassion,” Alwin said harshly.

“He didn’t deserve what happened to him,” Otto argued. “Of course he deserves compassion.”

“He got his people killed. Buried them far from home and their families with nobody to pay respects. He should have known that angering a powerful witch wouldn’t end well, yet he still did so.”

“So he should have given in to her desires no matter his own?”

“If that would have kept them safe, anything is worth suffering.”

“The blame lies squarely with the witch. Those with power shouldn’t wield it to selfishly get what they want. He was just in his refusal, her actions thereafter are her own and nothing to do with him,” Otto said firmly.

Alwin wished he could believe it.

Otto gathered his hand into his, and Alwin was too weak and lovesick to pull away.

“I think the prince would be happy to know his belongings fell into your hands. I can think of no one better to take up his mantle,” Otto whispered.

“We are nothing alike.”

“The mourning tales speak of someone smart. Someone with goodness and kindness, who cared for his people. I think you are exactly alike.”

The words gutted Alwin, and his eyes stung, still cursed not to be able to release the tears. He let out a sob anyway, screaming in his head, It’s me, it’s me !

Otto gathered him in his arms, cradling him close, not knowing the source of his pain but trying to relieve it all the same. Healing him with his compassion.

Alwin sank into it and allowed himself to mourn in front of another for the first time until he felt cleansed of it.