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Chapter Sixteen

T he sunlight streamed into the room, waking her up from her slumber.

She sat up and then wilted a little when she realized she was still alone.

A maid came in shortly after to help her dress, and then, just like the previous day, more hay was brought in, and soon her room once again resembled a barn.

The king visited shortly after, his red face glistening with excitement .

“Well, Miss Miller, today is the day!” he gushed. “You just need to turn this straw into gold one more time, and you shall be my queen!”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied demurely.

“We have already asked for the wedding preparations to begin! We trust that you will be able to carry out your final task with no issues.”

Puffing up at his own benevolence, he waddled out, but not before he gave orders that she be left alone to complete her task in peace.

A minute later, she stood in the empty room looking around at the place that had started feeling like a prison.

There was a popping sound, and her heart lifted, for she knew she was no longer alone.

He stood there, and she was struck by how even the ridiculous clothes he was wearing could not detract from how handsome he looked. Approaching the bed, he tossed off the hat on his head with irritation.

“I don’t know how this keeps appearing on my head,” he grumbled. “I must have thrown it off about ten times now.”

“Where do you go when you disappear?” asked Serena curiously.

“To the edge of the forest,” he replied. “There’s an old cottage there that has some supplies that I’ve er- borrowed.”

“You’ve been stealing ?”

“Borrowing.”

She shook her head. For some reason, she had imagined he was too scrupulous to go around nicking things from people’s houses.

He looked around the room with brows raised.

“They really went overboard with the amount of hay today,” he remarked. “Guess the greedy old fart is trying to squeeze as much as he can out of you. Or me, in this case.”

“Yes, well he thinks he’s the generous one in this case, if his offer of marriage is any indication. ”

“ What?”

Serena looked up, startled, not having expected that strong of a reaction. His eyes were narrowed, as he waited for a response.

“He came in last night saying that we’ll be married as soon as today’s straw is turned into gold.”

“Like hell you will.”

A thrill ran through her at his growled response. “It’s certainly not ideal. But I think we have bigger problems—like the fact that you might never remember your name.”

“I’ll get another one,” he snapped.

She shook her head.

“Names have power. Losing your name to Lore forever would give him power over you, and I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a horrible idea to me. So, for now we focus on your name, and the rest will sort itself out.”

He did not look too happy about that, which she did not quite understand. However, he relented, sitting on the edge of her bed. She sat down next to him, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees in a distinctly unladylike manner.

“We should start with the goblin’s clues.”

“Sounded like a load of shit to me,” he said, rolling his eyes a little. “The clue is in the hair and in the past.”

“He said all stories begin somewhere,” she said with a frown. “Even the relationships between people. Does that mean the clue is in the day we met?”

He snorted. “Don’t you mean the day you fell on me?”

“A gentleman would not remind me of that.” She sniffed.

“Ah, but once again you imply I am a gentleman. ”

Now she rolled her eyes. “Focus, please. It must have something to do with a conversation we had the first time we met. But that makes no sense—you were using an alias when we met.”

“This is futile,” he grumbled, languidly stretching his long legs out in front of him, as he placed his hands behind his head. “The goblin was clearly trying to trick us.”

She ignored him. “I’m sure we can find the answer if we think hard enough.”

“I have a question. Were you born like this or is it because of the hair and the name?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“I figured the eternal optimism comes from having pink hair and being named Serena Rose.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Ugh, I am truly sorry that we all can’t be so grim all the time.”

As she said that, an odd zing went through her, and she noticed he had also straightened. The air seemed to buzz with an odd kind of energy, and she saw the moment both of them were hit with the same memory.

“So, your name is Grim.”

He looked at her warily, as if unsure where this was going.

“Yes, it is.”

“I can’t believe your name is Grim, and you were mocking my name and pink hair.” She threw up her hands. “As if your name isn’t the biggest indicator of your personality there could be.”

“Grim!” cried Serena jubilantly. “Your name is Grim!”

Grim still looked a bit dazed, as if he was still processing the information. She had not truly grasped until that moment how awful it must have felt to forget your own name, how lost Grim must have felt. She threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly .

“As always, both of you are nauseatingly sweet,” came a sardonic voice.

They looked up to see Lore, lounging by the door, still in the human form he had possessed at the dinner.

Grim was looking at him with his brow furrowed in confusion, and Serena realized she was the only one who had seen Lore in that form.

The immortal looked almost bored, but she could see the fury seething under the surface of that icy calm.

“You’re free to go home,” he said, examining his fingernails, and Grim tensed, realizing who they were speaking to. “There’s just one thing: the door is outside the castle, and well, the two of you might have some trouble getting to it.”

And then he stepped into the hallway and started running away, shouting.

“Help! Help! There is a strange man in Miss Miller’s chamber. He’s trying to attack her!”

Serena and Grim looked at each other, and then he grabbed her hand, as they rushed out, running for the nearest flight of stairs they could find.

They could still hear Lore shouting, his tale getting more and more colorful with every passing person.

“A strange man was embracing Miss Miller, and I heard them plotting to kill the king!”

“The straw to gold was witchcraft! Miss Miller has been consorting with the dark forces to ensorcel the king!”

“I am going to murder him the next time I see him,“ seethed Grim. “That dirty little fucker.”

He continued cursing for a good minute, and then they heard a yell behind them.

“There they are! Don’t let them get away!”

“Grim! They’re gaining on us!” she cried .

He looked behind them and cursed again; they were almost out the gate, and they could hear someone shouting instructions to bring it down before they escaped. Grim swung her into his arms and broke into an even faster run. Right as she thought it was too late, he slid under the closing gate.

“That was—” she tried to speak through her panting—“amazing.”

He grinned at her, and then they saw the door that would take them home right there waiting for them.

“Shall we?” he said, offering her his hand.

Grabbing at it, she smiled widely back, and they crossed over, back home.