Page 9 of The Frog Prince (The GriMM Tales #6)

He saw something move out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned, nothing was there. He felt eyes on him though, bulbous and unblinking. He began to back away slowly, feeling like cornered prey, and he screamed when his back hit a tree.

It was enough to send him running, heedless of the direction.

The way out. Which way is the way out?

He crashed through the underbrush, swiping branches away from his face, shrugging out of their grip on his clothes as they ripped holes into them. He whimpered and stumbled, desperate, terrified, but his feet seemed harder to move, sucking him down.

He looked and saw water up to his ankles and thick mud holding him in place. He’d run straight to the glen at the river.

The Frog Prince’s home.

Crying out, he did his best to free himself, caked in mud all over as he freed his feet from his boots and fell, catching himself on the edge of something hard.

Panting he pulled back and came face to face with the well he’d tossed the golden ball into. A single drop of sweat fell from his brow and hit the bottom, the sound of it echoing up.

“Otto.” It called to him like an old friend.

“No,” he whispered to it.

“Otto,” it said again, a wheedling croak.

“No. No, I don’t want the deal. I refuse. I refuse!”

Flinging himself away from it, he struggled to wade over to a collapsed wall and pull himself up into the ruins. He ran, trying to escape the mud and filth that wanted to trap him there forever.

“Otto,” the mud burbled after him.

Climbing over broken walls and through destroyed doorways, he searched for a way out. It felt like a maze. His name echoed around the space, cacophonous and incessant. He felt dizzy and disorientated, the world turning black at the edges.

He fought to stay conscious as he took another corner into a cavernous room with no ceiling, willow leaves draping through and creating their own walls, but he swayed dangerously on his feet.

Long, cold fingers curled around his arms to catch him before he fell. He gasped, the sound echoing through the trees, yet no one answered.

It was just the Frog Prince and him.

Wetness began to seep into his ruined clothes, the smell of algae and earth thick and cloying as he was pulled against a thin chest, the rib cage protruding and digging into his back.

Two webbed feet bracketed his, and he stared down at them as slippery lips moved to his ear, running along the sensitive whorl and whispering, “Otto.”

A shaky breath shuddered from his throat as those hands slid down his arms and across his chest, catching on the bare strips of skin and brushing across his nipple. He let out a cry of shock as gooseflesh broke out all over, barely able to react as his shirt was stripped from his chest entirely.

He was turned around in an instant, bared before the prince.

He flushed, completely overtaken and utterly overwhelmed, unable to work out his feelings as the prince stared at him with such hunger he was sure he was about to be devoured whole.

Bracing his hands against the Frog Prince’s shoulders, he stared at that hideous face as he was walked backward with purpose.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from those unusual green irises as he was guided over the threshold like a new bride, not knowing where he was until something soft and wet hit his back and he was laid down on a bed made of lily pads, his shirt in tatters around his arms.

The Frog Prince slid onto the bed next to him, smooth as water, running along the whole length of his side.

A hand landed heavily, low on his stomach, making him draw it in sharply in reaction as those bulbous fingertips stuck to his skin, sucking kisses that would leave blooming bruises.

His legs spasmed without his permission, sensations he had never experienced before racing through his body and making his blood pump hard in his ears.

Otto’s lips parted on a suspended breath as the Frog Prince leaned in…

“OTTO!”

He gasped awake, sweating and shaking.

Liesel was staring at him with wide eyes, a candle in her hands and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. It was getting dark outside.

“Are you okay, dear? You look like you saw the devil himself,” Liesel said.

Otto glanced around the room, panicked and paranoid, before rubbing at his ear and stomach, feeling phantom wetness and a tightness in his breeches that he couldn’t explain. “I think I did,” he whispered, voice trembling.

“You’ve been through an ordeal,” she said. “No wonder your mind is playing tricks. Let’s get you to a comfortable chair at least. You’ve both slept through most of the day, but I can wake you again when dinner is ready.”

“No.” Otto shook his head. “I fear to close my eyes at this moment.”

He turned instead to Gisela, who was sleeping peacefully. She hadn’t woken once in a coughing fit. She hadn’t even awoken from his nightmare. He hastily reached for her wrist, checking her pulse. It was even and strong, stronger than it had been in years.

Had the cure…worked?

“Gisela,” he called.

“You said rest was the best thing for her,” Liesel chastised him. “Why are you waking her?”

“I found the medicine I was searching for in the forest. I gave it to her before I fell asleep.”

Before Liesel could respond, Gisela stirred, scrunching her nose and then yawning long and loud. Nary a cough to be heard, the hoarse whisper of her throat replaced by strength. Otto had to fight to stay on the stool and not drop to the floor in shock.

“What miracle is this?” Liesel gasped in disbelief, lighting a sconce to flood the room with an orange glow.

“No miracle,” Otto murmured.

Simply a deal.

“It must be so, she already has color back in her cheeks!” she exclaimed, coming to the other side of the bed and cupping one. “Oh, Gisela.”

Gisela seemed surprised, blinking at them. “What happened?”

Then she paused, surprised by her own voice. She pressed a hand to her throat, then lower on her chest, taking deep breaths in and out. And then her eyes met Otto’s.

“It worked?”

Otto nodded, disbelief and relief warring inside him.

Now what?

He had to return to the forest to fulfill his end of the bargain. His sister’s life for his, served up to a monster.

Cowardice was running like ice through his veins.

His sister was cured now…so what if he never returned?

There had never been a single story of anyone seeing the Frog Prince outside of the forest. He could avoid it for the rest of his life if he had to. It would be a small thing compared to the alternative.

Thoughts running amok, he barely heard the conversation between Liesel and Gisela. It wasn’t until Gisela cast the blankets aside to get out of bed that he came back to himself.

“Wait—”

“I have been bedbound for so long, Brother. Even if you have to hold an arm on either side of me, I long to place my feet on the ground.” Her innocent eyes were full of hope and vigor.

“Let her up, Otto,” Liesel begged for her, tears in her eyes. “To see her out of bed is a blessing I never thought I’d witness. Oh, sweet girl, I…”

She seemed completely overcome for a moment, visibly trying to hold herself together.

Otto was reminded sharply that she had watched her own daughter lie in bed and never get up again.

An ache of sympathy shot through his heart, and he reached for her calloused hand, aged and weary beyond her years.

Liesel gave him a shaky smile, eyes clouded with a grief she would never fully heal from. “I’ll leave you two for a moment and finish preparing the food.”

She left the room quickly, and Otto knew she needed a moment to compose herself. He could never thank her enough for everything she had done for them.

He turned to Gisela, who was already halfway up without him holding her.

“Careful,” he said, and she laughed that snickering laugh he used to find annoying but now considered the most wonderful sound in the world.

“I am moving slower than a snail, Otto.” She stood upright, swaying slightly, but he could tell it wasn’t from the sickness, just from a long time spent immobile.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She smiled widely in disbelief. “Never better. What did you give me?”

“A cure.” He struggled to hold her gaze. She didn’t need to know what he had done. It wasn’t for her to concern herself with. He would find a way around it; he always did.

“One you didn’t have mere days ago?” she asked, her mind as sharp as ever, despite her body’s failings.

“One should always learn and grow, Gisela. I simply acquired new information and was lucky enough that it was proven correct.”

She stared for a moment, clearly not believing his lies but not enquiring further. For now.

“Thank you, Brother,” she said, wrapping her arm around his and walking with him to the tiny kitchen, her steps wobbly as a newborn foal’s. “I do feel hungry, and I need to thank Liesel for taking care of me.”

The words nearly brought tears to his eyes. She hadn’t felt hungry in weeks. She’d barely been able to hold anything down. Barely been eating enough to sustain her.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said as they entered the kitchen. Liesel looked at them with wounded, reddened eyes, but her smile was genuine as she gestured them to her rickety table.

Gisela broke from his hold and practically threw herself at Liesel, wrapping her arms around her neck and squeezing tightly as she whispered something Otto couldn’t quite make out. Liesel seemed soothed by it though, as she pressed her fingers into Gisela’s hair and closed her eyes.

It was a type of healing Otto couldn’t provide for her.

When they sat down, it was to a modest meal, but as he watched Gisela eat, Otto felt like it was a feast worthy of royalty.

The thought sent shivers down his spine.

Royalty.

The prince he had left behind. He closed his eyes against the vision of the monster grinning at him. Beckoning him to uphold his end of the bargain. Tomorrow. The time for Otto to leave was tomorrow. He shook his head.

“Otto?” Gisela called, and he snapped back to reality.

“Hm?”

She nudged him with her elbow. “You’re exhausted still. We should head home.” She turned to Liesel. “I will stop by for a visit in a day or two. Don’t think you will be rid of me so easily.”

“Oh, darling girl,” Liesel said, cupping her cheek again, “I never wish to be rid of either of you. You make my solitary days brighter. Especially now when you are back on your feet and healthy. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“And how are you feeling?” Otto asked. “Is there anything I can do for you? Have the dizzy spells worn off?”

“The smelling salts you gave me help with all that.” She waved him off. “There isn’t much you can do for an old lady. You already don’t charge me enough, you rascal.”

Otto smiled sheepishly as his ears flushed red.

He hadn’t thought she’d noticed. He’d been garnishing his own meagre wages from Henne to help her.

It was the least he could do. She had no family left to make an income alongside her weaving, and she was growing slower with age and starvation.

She’d refused all other attempts he’d made to help her, including his offer for her to come live with them to ease the burden from her shoulders.

She walked them out, and after countless hugs and kisses on both their cheeks, Otto and Gisela were on their way.

They walked home slowly, arm in arm, Otto ready to intervene at any moment.

“You don’t have to watch me like a hawk, Otto,” she said. “My legs are weak from being infirm for so long, but I can walk this short distance.”

“I’m still your doctor as well as your brother. That’s double the need to be worried.”

“Quite so. But the weight of too many eyes is surely set to send me toppling over, so be merciful, would you?”

Otto paused in his tracks, a pang of fear ringing in his stomach. “What?”

“Hm?” She tilted her head curiously.

“You said too many eyes,” he said, beginning to panic and look around them. “Where are they?”

“Liesel is still watching us from her door there.” She indicated behind them before frowning at him. “And her neighbors are rather nosy. Who did you think I meant?”

Otto glanced back and saw Liesel was indeed watching their every step. She waved to him and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to catch his breath and still his pounding heart.

Gisela squeezed his forearm. “Brother, what’s wrong? You’ve not been yourself ever since you returned… What did you see in that forest?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, opening his eyes and giving her a smile. “Nothing at all. I’m simply tired and miss home. Let’s move a little quicker if you can, so you don’t catch a chill.”

Gisela continued to frown, but she allowed him to lead her on until they reached the small gate to their property.

He pushed it open and nearly toppled over when he heard a quiet croak. He crouched down, looking everywhere, but the ground was void of anything living or…croaking.

“Otto!” Gisela exclaimed as she watched him.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I thought I heard…”

He shook his head, standing up and running a tired hand over his face.

“Right, off to bed with you.” She pushed him toward their house, letting him unlock the door then ushering him inside.

Their home wasn’t much—larger than most, but mostly bare due to circumstance. An empty inheritance from their useless father. Still, it was a roof that didn’t leak and timbered walls that blocked the cold, and Otto was grateful every day for what they did have.

He did a once-over of the house to make sure everything was as they’d left it days ago.

Other than a light layer of dust all was as it should be.

Gisela insisted he head straight to bed, promising she would do the same as she felt herself getting tired again.

She assured him she felt healthy, just deprived of quality sleep, and he chose to believe her.

He secretly watched her retire to her room, the urge to sit at her bedside again to make sure she didn’t relapse difficult to ignore.

Sighing, he headed to his own room and got ready for bed as quickly as he could as the sun slowly set, forcing him to light a small candle. Taking the chamberstick with him, he walked barefoot toward his bed and was about to dive under his cover when he stepped in something wet and cold.

He jumped away, looking down at his feet and finding nothing but his worn wooden floor.

His foot looked dry.

Ducking down, he peered under the bed frame, finding nothing but dust when he moved the candle closer.

“You’re going mad,” he told himself.

Back on his feet, he draped a blanket around his shoulders, gaze moving to the small window that faced east toward the forest. The curtain hadn’t been drawn yet. Shivering, he stepped carefully over, keeping himself mostly out of view.

He peered out into the darkness, searching so intently that his eyes began to strain.

“Even if you’re there, you won’t come out,” he whispered, as if the Frog Prince was listening. “And I won’t ever go back.”

He blew out the candle and drew the curtain sharply.