Page 7 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

Leaving the frogs to deal with the front room, he fought his way toward the back of the ruined castle, hacking away at the vines and gnarled bushes blocking his passage.

Plenty of the castle still remained at least partially standing, but a lot of it Alwin had deemed unsafe years ago and refused to re-enter.

He wouldn’t risk lives like that. Not his own.

Not his frogs’. And especially not Otto’s.

There were parts, however, that had stood the test of time. Sturdy and built to last. He hadn’t troubled himself with much of it, miserable in his existence as he was, but for Otto, the effort was suddenly worth it.

He had a room in mind.

He made his way toward it slowly, deliberately tearing down the obstacles while keeping the vines and shrubbery that made the place look more aesthetically pleasing, because not all of it was unwanted.

Tiny midnight-blue flowers grew seemingly straight from the hard stone, lining the hallway he was walking through. They reflected the night sky whenever the moon managed to pierce through the canopy and the sunken roof.

Alwin remembered most of his education and was fairly certain the flowers didn’t normally grow or bloom in places like this.

He was convinced that somewhere down the line they’d fed off his magic and grown from it.

He could have been wrong, but he did like the idea of the ugliness of his very being creating something so beautiful.

It served as a comfort on days when he could see nothing of his old self.

Nights when the prince was buried deep and the monster was close to the surface.

He kept them now. For Otto. Maybe he’d like them too. Maybe they’d be the first thing of Alwin he’d grow to see the beauty of.

The tiny blooms brushed against his fingers, tickling the sensitive edges as he walked into the room, the door long lost to the passage of time but the roof still standing strong, enclosing the small space in the closest thing to safety one could find in this forest.

The room used to be a servant’s bedroom, from what Alwin could tell.

It was small, and connected to a larger chamber to the right that didn’t exist anymore.

Instead, the room opened up to the outside, the edges of the hole filled with flowers and mushrooms, and the missing wall allowed a view of the water washing the side of the castle.

He set about cleaning the room as best as he could, trying to figure out how to improvise a bed for Otto.

By the time night fell, he still hadn’t come to a solution, but the room was clear of the largest bushes and vines, and Alwin’s frogs were sprawled on every visible inch of the floor, fast asleep.

“Sleep well, my friends,” Alwin said, resting his back against a wall and sliding down it, watching over his little kingdom.

He wanted to go home. Desperately so.

But he knew he’d be leaving a part of himself in this broken castle, with these misunderstood creatures he had grown to see as friends.

He let sleep pull him under, flickers of gold blinding his vision and echoes of a brilliant laugh in his ears. He chased it like he had done many a lonely night, hoping to find the feeling of comfort it had once given him.

There once was a boy that had understood him without knowing him. Not even his name.

Alwin didn’t stir until he felt something cool on his face. Something pulled at one of his eyelids, forcing his eye open. He nearly hissed when bright light hit his face, but his lips were pinched closed by another tiny, cool hand as Farwin got so close to his nose that Alwin went cross-eyed.

“Mello,” he mumbled through closed lips.

Farwin is best! the frog said in lieu of a greeting.

“Mhm.” Alwin shook his head to get those grubby little fingers off him. “Have you been getting into trouble again? I do not want to see you hurt for a second time.”

Bring news .

Alwin frowned. “How do you have news when you were here all day yesterday?”

Farwin flopped down onto Alwin’s chest, sprawling on his back and kicking both his hind legs into the air. Know frogs .

“I know you know frogs, Farwin,” Alwin said. “But all of our frogs were here too.”

Other frogs , Farwin said. From kingdom.

Alwin lost his breath.

“You heard from Hallin?” He sat up, making Farwin roll off him dramatically before hopping back up. “News wasn’t expected for another few weeks.”

Important event.

“What event? My mother or father? Lorenz?” He was greedy for every detail, living life between one message and the next. Seeing through his frogs’ eyes as they watched from the royal pond or skulked around the damp edges of the Hallin towns, unable to get too close.

Farwin flailed excitedly. Wedding!

Alwin felt his insides turn. There was only one person whose wedding would be a great event. “A…a wedding? Lorenz?”

Yes. Prince’s spawn brother.

“Is…Is it set? Has the person been chosen?”

Pigeons.

Alwin sucked in a breath. The Pigeon Whisperer, who he had later found out to be named Cinder.

He remembered the encounter vividly. The stranger that had stumbled into his lair one misty evening and the way they had spoken of not only their own discomfort at not fitting inside a body that was never meant for them, but of Lorenz’s happiness as if it was their own.

It was enough to convince Alwin to pay the price of the trade himself, never even telling the stranger what it was before they left.

Alwin desperately clawed at the tiny ember of happiness he felt at it being worth the price before it was swallowed by a tide of grief.

His little brother was getting married and Alwin wasn’t there to see any of it. He wouldn’t be there to stand by his brother when he said his vows. He wouldn’t be able to look on proudly at his mother’s and father’s sides.

There would be no celebration where he would be welcomed.

The only gift he’d been able to give him was the happiness of his love being in the body he deserved. Alwin had sacrificed some of his own human skin for it, bargaining the pink flush of it for the Pigeon Whisperer’s dream. Even if he broke the curse, he would never be able to break the trade.

He just wished it could be enough. He wished he didn’t want for more.

“When?” he whispered.

Farwin shrugged his shoulders and held up two of his fingers.

This much? he said uncertainly.

“Days? Weeks?” Alwin asked, desperate for more information, but Farwin didn’t have anything more. He steeled his resolve. “Right then. However much time I have, I will have to make it work. Otto comes back tomorrow night. We have to have everything ready by then.”

He stood up and let out a loud croak that had all the sleeping frogs jumping up on alert.

Rude , Jurgen said, glaring at Alwin through sleepy eyes.

“We have to get moving! Otto comes back tomorrow, and this place has to be spotless by the time he arrives. Begin!”

They scattered, and Alwin dove back into it with them with mindless fervor, spending the day cleaning and primping and testing out different options for a bed before deeming every last one not good enough for Otto.

Otto, who was beautiful.

Otto, who was kind.

Otto, who loved his sister enough to tie himself to a monster.

Alwin froze in his steps as the thought filtered through his mind. He was a monster. Why would Otto even consider him when he could have anyone else?

Alwin had saved his sister, but that changed nothing of what he looked like. Of what he could still look like if he ever broke the curse.

That was what Otto would see. Not the handsome man Alwin used to be. Not the prince who turned heads and captured hearts. But an abomination that struck fear into the hearts of the strongest men.

Was this a futile effort?

Otto would never love him.

Up ! Farwin got into his face again, pushing the corners of his mouth upward.

“We’ve discussed personal boundaries before, Farwin,” Alwin said, the words heavy on his tongue.

Happy .

Alwin shook his head. “No, friend, I am not happy.”

Why?

“What if all of this is for nothing? What if he never sees me as anything other than…this? What if I’m putting my hopes on someone who’s just like everyone else?”

Farwin stared at him, silent and focused for a change before breaking out of it with a simple shrug.

Try , he said before hopping away.

“Try,” Alwin repeated.

There wasn’t anything as exhausting as trying. Yet, Alwin couldn’t give up either.

They finished the day like the previous one, bone-tired and falling asleep wherever they managed to find a spot to rest. Dreams of gold still plagued his mind before they woke up bright and early and picked up where they’d left off as if the night hadn’t stopped them at all.

The room was mostly clean and ready. Alwin still didn’t have a suitable bed, but he did have a pile of soft shrubbery stacked in one corner, an unnaturally large lily pad lying over the top. He just needed to find something he could trade to make it last.

The day ran away from him as he imagined Otto in his space. He shifted between excitement, fear, anticipation, and panic as the hours ticked by.

He kept running outside to watch the path that would lead Otto to him. Watched it remain empty every time he went.

Watched the light hit one side of it in the morning, move to the middle in the afternoon, and kiss the other side in early evening before night painted it black.

He stood next to the well, staring.

Fingers clenched into fists. Lips pressed tightly together.

Night had fallen.

The path remained empty.

Otto hadn’t come.