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Chapter Thirteen

T hey landed on the living room floor of Primrose Cottage with a thump. Somehow she had ended up falling on top of Grim, and she hastily scrambled off. He opened his mouth, no doubt to remind her this was the second time this had happened, and she raised her hand to stop him.

“Do not,” she warned.

He didn’t say anything, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her feel all jittery.

She collapsed on a nearby chair and tilted her head back with a heavy sigh. “I’m exhausted.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Grim asked.

“Oh yes, please,“ she said fervently, and he chuckled.

While he was busy getting the tea, Serena looked around her home, feeling immensely grateful to be back.

The adventure had tired her out physically and mentally, and she had no idea how she was supposed to do this six more times.

Furthermore, the thought of spending the night in this cottage alone filled her with dread.

“Grim?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going to stay tonight?”

There was silence, and then he appeared in front of her.

“I still have a room at the inn?” he said, almost questioningly.

“You could spend the night with me if you like,” she rushed out, and her eyes widened in horror at what that probably sounded like to him. “I mean here in this cottage, not like with me, as in the same bed, but in the cottage—I have a spare room you can use.”

Grim waited until her fumbling was over and then nodded understandingly.

“I’ll stay here tonight then.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

The fire burned brightly in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the otherwise dark room.

It had started to rain, the raindrops a symphony on the roof.

She felt herself almost subconsciously leaning toward Grim, aware of how solid and warm he seemed.

He murmured something she did not quite catch, and then slid an arm around her as she tipped sideways.

She realized with a jolt she had almost fallen asleep.

“All right there?” he said almost affectionately, an odd gleam in his eyes.

She nodded quickly.

“What do you think will happen next?” she whispered.

He sighed. “Honestly…I don’t know. I don’t think he plans on giving us any clues about the tales, so it’s anyone’s guess.”

“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “You’re in this mess because of me. You told me not to read the book, and then you got cursed alongside me.”

Grim raised his eyebrows at her. “You have a high opinion of yourself. Trust me when I say that you could not have forced me into anything if I did not want to be part of it. Besides, I wasn’t of much use to you this time.”

A comfortable silence stretched, the kind that only people who have known each other for years can experience, making her realize how strange it was that she felt like this with someone she had only known for a few days.

In fact, other than her aunt, she didn’t think she’d felt this way with anyone else.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Grim whispered, and she shivered a little at the way his body rumbled with the question. “Something no one else knows.”

She scrunched her nose and then broke into a mischievous smile. “I do have something. Something no one else in the village knows. A deep dark secret that you must keep, even if you are being tortured to death.”

He waited.

“My hair”—she leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear—“ it's not really naturally pink .”

He blinked.

“ What?” he yelped. “Then all that talk about the curse, the accident— ”

She giggled. “All a lie. In my defense, you were incredibly annoying, and it was the only way I could think of to get revenge.”

“You maddening — ”

Serena was now laughing too hard to hear the rest of his cursing.

“The only curse is how much the villagers dislike it,” she said brightly.

“That’s one of the fun parts of doing it.

People will talk anyway, might as well give them something interesting.

I have very pale hair, and when I was very young, I tripped into a barrel of my aunt’s berry jam, and it stained my hair a lovely pink shade for two weeks.

I was absolutely tickled! Felt like a fairy princess and insisted on wearing flowers in my hair all the time.

Once it washed out, I was so upset that she promised when I came over in the summers, she would help me make a dye with the berries.

When I was old enough to go into town, rumors of Aunt Maeve’s ‘fae’ ward had already become wild enough that it just fed into the lore that I ended up having pink hair.

Or as Old Agatha called it, ‘The wild blush of Titania’s nymphs.

’ Sometimes I’ll hide some pollen in my pockets and pretend like I am followed by a train of magic wherever I step.

That's very messy, though, ruins my dresses, so I don't do it often.”

Grim frowned and she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It doesn’t bother me, the disapproval of strangers.

It never has. That is one of the things that bothers my mother most about me.

For someone who has spent the later half of her life deferring to what society or religion tell her, she doesn’t understand why I was, am, determined to do the exact opposite.

I was a difficult child, and I think I was additionally difficult for someone like my mother who always just wanted to fit in and not make waves .

“When I grew old enough to make the dye myself, I started using it in Leis as well. Mama was mortified of course. She cried and asked why I was doing this to her. I don’t think it ever occurred that it had nothing to do with her.

To her, my hair was just another reminder of how she failed to raise me properly.

She wanted a daughter she could share her life with, who would understand her, who would commiserate with her.

Someone who would make the same choices she did and face the same consequences.

So they could sit together and talk about why their pain was necessary.

“Instead, she got me, a half-wild daughter who flouted convention, a daughter who dyed her hair pink, who ran off to live with her eccentric aunt, who chose the life of a hermit over getting married and settling down.

I became exactly the sort of girl who would give her neighbors constant material to gossip about.

“And she feels like it was her fault—that she is the reason I somehow came out…wrong. That she failed as a mother.

“Mothers are strange; they will try to protect you from the entire world, from their barbs and their critiques and their judgement, but the one person they will forget to protect you from is themselves.”

She blinked, realizing she had tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was silence again, and then:

“My parents abandoned me as a child.”

Serena whipped her head toward him in shock. “What?”

“There was something…wrong with me as a child. I would get seizures and fits of rages and there would be no way to help me or calm me down. No amount of coddling or beatings or exorcisms . ” He spat the last word out.

“I suppose you can say they tried their best to help me. Just wasn’t enough.

So one day, they took me out into the woods where the Spirits were said to reside and left me there, promising to come back. ”

He looked at her and gave her a humorless smile. “They obviously didn’t, considering I’m here right now.”

She didn’t smile back, horrified that someone could do that to a child, their child. “But that means…the Woods, they left you in— ”

“Were the ones leading to Primrose Cottage, yes. I was born in a village a few miles away from Glenn.”

“That’s…that’s horrible.”

He shrugged. “I can’t be too mad at people who never stuck around. Besides, they ended up being right about the Spirits claiming me instead, so I suppose it worked out for everyone.”

She knew that was a lie; it had not in fact worked out for him; not even remotely.

His parents had abandoned him, and the Spirits had gained a human errand boy, but he had lost everything.

She had the sudden image of young Grim chasing after his parents, confused at being left alone, and her heart clenched with sorrow and pity.

She reached out and squeezed his hand, hoping he would not pull away.

He didn’t.

They stayed like that until she finally fell asleep right there on his shoulder.

Serena awoke the next morning in her own bed. How odd, she was sure she had fallen asleep in the living room. Had Grim carried her to bed? Hopefully he’d been able to find the spare room as well.

Making her way downstairs, she pondered what she’d say to him after last night. Both had shared too much, shown too much of themselves. It would not be easy to go back from here, not without someone getting hurt.

She had a sinking feeling that someone would be her.

She found Grim already awake, polishing his sword in the living room. Taking a seat next to him, she finally asked him the question that had completely slipped her mind after everything had happened.

“Are you now going to tell me where you got the sword?”

“I didn’t get it from anywhere,” he said without looking up. “It was always with me.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He looked up then, and gave her a wicked little smile that made her stupid heart do an odd fluttery thing in her chest. “The sword has been on me since the first time I came to this cottage. I hid it with some spirit magic—here let me show you.”

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand hovered over the sword. The air over the blade rippled for a second, so quickly that she would have missed it if she wasn’t paying attention.

The sword disappeared.

Her eyes widened and she gasped in shock and wonder. “That was amazing . Can you bring it back?”

He put his palm out facing downward, closing his eyes again. A minute later, it was back, the hilt in his hand.