Page 38 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

Seventeen

Otto

B rigit looked so frail. It had only been a few days since he had left, yet she had declined so much that Otto feared nothing he had to offer would be able to bring her back.

He sat next to her bed, holding her thin hand between his. Her bones felt so brittle that he was scared of shattering them with his touch. The loose skin around them was evidence of the weight lost, and the greyish hue to it put her closer to the grave than it did a vibrant, happy life.

Was he too late?

Was all of it for nothing?

“She has barely been awake these past two days,” Brigit’s daughter Frieda said, holding a mug of tea in her shaking hands.

Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and she looked as if she too had lost weight since Otto had last seen her.

“We try to keep her comfortable, but nothing seems to be working anymore. She won’t eat.

She can’t stand up. I fear this is the end. ”

Otto swallowed bile, feeling the little vial of glowing liquid burning through his pocket. It was so unsafe, what he was thinking of doing. So risky.

“Frieda,” he said, despite his reservations. “I… We should talk.”

“Okay.” She came closer, pulling a chair up next to his own, beside her mother’s bed.

“I am about to tell you something, and I want you to think carefully about it.”

“I am already aware of her condition, Otto,” Frieda said. “I do not think you could say anything graver than that.”

“It is not grave,” Otto said. “At least, I hope it isn’t. But it is risky and quite probably very foolish.”

“What is it?”

Otto took a deep breath, closing his eyes and wishing Alwin was there to lend him some of his quiet, reassuring strength. He was safer with Gisela in Otto’s house, away from prying eyes, but how Otto missed him by his side.

He clutched the vial in his pocket and pulled it out, the dark, deep blue glimmering in the light of the fire flickering in the corner of the room.

He opened his hand and showed it to Frieda, allowing her to hold it, inspect it, and turn it over while he gathered his thoughts and explained to her what he wanted to do.

“This…could be a cure,” he said finally.

She startled, turning wide eyes to him. Eyes that burned with hope he both appreciated and feared. Eyes that trusted him more than he thought he deserved.

“Otto!” she exclaimed, already gripping the cork and pushing herself out of the chair as she rushed to give it to her mother.

“Wait,” he implored. “Please.”

She froze in place, sitting back down stiffly.

“Why wait? Otto, she barely has hours left in her. We have to—”

“I want to save her, Frieda,” he said. “I want to save them all. But I don’t… I am not certain this will work.”

She sagged in her chair, fingers going loose around the vial and eyes darting between him and her mother as the hope dimmed right before him. “You don’t know.”

“I found a plant that has incredible healing properties. It can do so much more than anyone even knows…”

“But?” Her voice was terse, her chin jutting out as she clenched her teeth to stop it from wobbling.

“It can also be a poison. It can damage and even kill.”

“I do not understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“I am almost certain I have done the right thing here. I have followed all of the known instructions, and in my heart I know this can help her, but I also want to be completely honest with you when I say that this has never been used like this before, and I am going into this as blind as anyone else.”

“What is the worst that can happen?” Frieda asked, and Otto looked her in the eye, feeling like he owed her that connection as he delivered the news.

“It kills her instantly,” Otto said.

She gasped, clamping her teeth around her bottom lip.

“I am already dead, boy.” A frail voice drifted through deafening silence, and Otto snapped his head around to find Brigit awake, two pale blue eyes staring at him from the bed.

“Brigit” He blinked hard.

“Give me that vial,” she said.

“You realize what’s at stake here?” he asked, and she threw him a look that would have sent a braver man than he was cowering in fear.

“Hours of suffering until I meet the same end? It doesn’t feel like a risk, my boy.”

“But…”

“It feels like a lifeline,” she said. “One final chance.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you know to keep looking. My death will have been useful for something. It’s valuable knowledge to have.”

“Mother,” Frieda called, the vial still clutched in her hand, “are you certain?”

“Of course I am. Whatever is in that vial can’t possibly be worse than your cooking.”

“I do hope this ends you,” Frieda said, her voice wobbling as she uncorked the vial. She passed it to her mother with her eyes shining in delight at the barbed quips Otto knew were their love language.

Brigit took the vial, and with a quirked smile, raised it to Otto and Frieda before tipping it back and swallowing the contents in one gulp.

Otto watched, frozen, as her throat convulsed around the tonic, forcing it down.

He could almost see it traveling through her body, doing unknown things to her.

He didn’t blink, didn’t move. He was silent and still as he waited for something, anything to let him know if he had done the most amazing or the worst thing he possibly could have.

She understood the risks, he knew that. And she was strong-willed and opinionated and able to make her own decisions. But he knew the guilt wouldn’t ask for reason. If she died because of something he had given her, he’d carry that for the rest of his life.

Frieda’s cool hand found his as she stared at her mother just as raptly as he was. Brigit was still swaddled in blankets, still perched on her pillows, still frail and ashen looking.

But…

“It is very hot in here, isn’t it?” she said suddenly.

Frieda snapped her head around to look at Otto.

“She has been shivering for days now.” She jumped up to peel a few blankets away from Brigit’s body and open a window on the opposite wall from where the bed was.

“She can hear you,” Brigit said, and Frieda narrowed her eyes, the corners of her lips pulling up into a careful smile.

“I think I preferred you silent,” she threw back, walking over and kneeling next to her mother’s head.

She reached out and stroked her hair back away from her face.

“Mother,” she said softly.

“I am quite thirsty too,” Brigit said.

Frieda’s body finally crumpled forward, loud, gut-wrenching sobs tearing out of her chest. She leaned her head on the bed, shoulders shaking and voice breaking as she cried, desperate and aching.

Otto covered his mouth with his fingers, watching Brigit console her daughter as the color visibly returned to her cheeks.

The dullness in her eyes receded, leaving bright blue, clear and present.

Her hand found its way out of the blankets and she pushed herself up, leaning over her daughter and stroking her hair.

“Shhh, love,” she whispered. “I am here.”

“Mother…” Frieda clutched at the blankets around her. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“You won’t be getting rid of me so easily,” Brigit said, and Frieda laughed through her sobs.

Over Frieda’s curled body, Brigit caught Otto’s eye and smiled.

“Always knew you’d do great things, boy,” she said. “Your kindness and devotion to your calling would never go unrewarded.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His voice was rough and his body still taut, but a warmth was spreading through him at the idea that he might be getting what he had wanted: everyone around him healthy and well.

“Weak,” she said. “Tired. But the way you feel after a day of hard work, not like I am one step from leaving this world.”

“That is good to hear.” He stepped forward to do some of his own meticulous checks.

“It is thanks to you,” she said as she allowed him to maneuver around her. “Now…as much as I appreciate having a handsome healer all to myself, I do believe there are others in need of your attention.”

He nodded and stepped back, brushing his shaking hands over his wrinkled breeches. She seemed strong and healthy. It was a miracle.

“I will stop by as soon as I can to check in on you once more.”

“Go see the man out.” Brigit gave Frieda a little nudge, and she kissed her mother’s forehead before standing and walking Otto to the door.

She paused with each step, turning back to look at Brigit as if afraid she wouldn’t be there anymore if she spent too much time away from her.

“I can see myself out,” Otto said. “Keep her company.”

“Otto, I do not know how to thank you.” She reached for a small jug painted blue and green on a little shelf next to the door. He heard coins jingling as she lifted it and cradled it to her chest.

“We do not have much saved…”

“Frieda—” He covered her hands with his own. “—I do not need payment for this. Please.”

“But—”

“No.” He shook his head. “This is my village. My community. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t help. Keep the money. It will come in handy this winter.”

“You saved her,” she whispered.

He smiled in elation, all of his teeth showing. “And that is payment enough. Though I won’t say no to her strudel once nature allows it again.”

“Otto,” Frieda said seriously, “prepare to be drowned in strudel.”

“Oh, I am more than ready.” He gave her a firm hug. “I need to ask you one more thing.”

“Anything,” she said, and he held her at arm’s length, looking into her eyes.

“Stay inside for a few days. Away from Henne.”

“Why?” she asked with a frown, and he sighed.

“I will tell you everything once everyone is well,” he said. “For now, can you please trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” he said before walking out.

He rushed toward his house, making sure no one saw him, his heart in his throat. He had done it! He had found the cure and he had everything he needed to make enough for every ill person in the village. He needed Alwin. He needed to tell him.

And then he needed to rush back to the ruins and his workstation to make the cures and heal everyone.

He burst through his front door, making Gisela and Alwin jump in their chairs. Worried eyes found him as he filled the doorway, Farwin once again perched on Gisela’s head.

“We need to go,” he said. “Now.”

“Otto?” Gisela stood up, worry etched on her face.

“How did it go?” Alwin asked. “Is she…?”

He trailed off and Otto rushed toward him, grabbing him around the waist, scooping him up, and spinning him before planting a kiss on his lips that left him lightheaded and Alwin shivering against his chest.

“She’s alive!” he said. “The cure worked. She is recovering as we speak, Alwin. We have to make more. We have to…”

He fell silent when he realized Alwin wasn’t looking at him anymore, but at Gisela. He followed his gaze and found her watching the two of them, Otto’s arms around Alwin, Alwin clutching the sides of his shirt, the kiss they’d shared still echoing around the room.

“Oh…” he said, catching Gisela’s eye and biting his lip. “I…”

“Well…you’d be about as terrible at gambling as our father was,” she said. “You are so easy to read.”

He flushed bright red all the way to the roots of his hair. “What?”

“I saw the way you two looked at each other from the moment Alwin arrived at our home,” she said. “This was just a matter of time.”

Otto gulped and looked at Alwin, who seemed to be trying his very best to disappear.

“Are you… Is this all right with you?” Otto asked.

She smiled, bright and beautiful and loving.

“He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you,” Gisela said, making sure to look directly at Alwin as she said it. “How can I be anything but supportive?”

“Gisela,” Alwin said softly, “I am…”

“You are who my brother has chosen,” she said matter-of-factly. “Now get going, because there are people who need your help still.”

She gave them each a hug, and Otto lingered in his for a moment, kissing her temple and whispering a soft thank-you into her ear.

He picked up his bag, running a hand over the contents to make sure all of the Blue Moons he had were safely tucked inside before he slung it over his shoulder.

“I wish I had brought my equipment here,” he said. “I do not want to leave you alone again.”

“You will be back in just a few days,” she said. “My brother, the hero.”

“Be safe,” he said, pulling her into another quick hug.

She nodded and flicked his forehead. Farwin did the same thing with his spindly little fingers, and with that Alwin pulled him out of the house and toward the forest.

When a sudden, silent cloud of white enveloped them, seeping into their unsuspecting lungs and coating their skin, there was nothing they could do but fall to their knees.

Otto had always thought that moments like these were loud and calamitous, but as he wheezed and his vision spun, he realized that silence was much more deadly.

Hands descended on them in a moment.