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Chapter Forty-One

Grim

H e clapped his hands together once, and a sword appeared in Grim’s hands, replacing his own.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

His body began to move on its own, and before he knew it, he was pointing the blade at the girl in front of him.

Serena looked at him, her eyes wide with confusion, while he looked at her in horrified realization.

“Grim,” she whispered, and he watched in horror as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, “why did you kill me?”

She looked down to where a blade protruded from her chest, and then collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around her, soaking her dress and hair in a garish red color.

“Serena, you have to get away from here.”

“Grim, what is going on?”

“You have to go; you have to run. The curse, the sword, I think I’m supposed to stab you in this tale.”

Her face lost all its color as she registered his meaning. “You won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, gritting his teeth as he fought to keep from attacking her, the way his body was being compelled to, “the curse doesn’t care about what I want right now, all it wants is to run you through .”

“But—”

“ GO!” he roared, and with one last torn look, she picked up her skirts and ran. His body began to move, a sick thrill running through him in anticipation of hunting down his prey.

“No,” he groaned, trying to stop his body from moving, to little avail. He could clearly see the lithe figure in front of him darting through the forest path. She was too slow, and he was too fast, he would be upon her in no time.

And then he would put his blade right through that pale white flesh and see all the beautiful crimson blood spill—

He rammed the sword into his thigh and roared as pain lanced through his body.

“It’s no use,” rang out Lore’s voice from the trees. “The curse will make sure you hunt her down until it’s satisfied. It doesn’t matter what you do or how long it takes. The urge will always win. You will kill her.”

Grim ignored Lore and tried to focus on fighting the compulsion, but all that happened was that his body moved faster and faster, blood seeping through the wound on his thigh.

He tried to stab the sword through his arm next, but it seemed like his body was alerted to his strategy now, and it would not let him follow through.

Her figure was closer now—he was gaining on her—and the thrill of the chase heightened, until he had to fight to remind himself this was Serena; this was the girl he loved.

There was a dead end up ahead, and fuck, she was going to end up trapped.

Nononononono—

He was right behind her now; she was shaking and the sick urge inside him delighted in the fear.

Prey.

No, no, this was Serena. She was not prey.

She was looking at him with large eyes, her face white with fear as the reality of the situation sank in.

“Grim,” she whispered.

“I-I can’t,” he growled, and he let out a cry of pain, forcing himself down to his knees. “Run—”

She tried to dart around him, but his body moved without permission, and he grabbed her by the waist, throwing her back.

Oh fuck, fuck no, this could not be happening.

He was getting to his feet now, raising the sword above his head.

And then she did something horrible.

She smiled .

“It’s okay, Grim,” she whispered. “If it’s you, it’s okay.”

The blade came down before he even knew it, and it buried itself in her chest. Her eyes widened, the black locks turning back to platinum waves, the blue eyes to green, right before she hit the ground, blood spilling from her chest. She reached out a single bloody hand, before she slumped back, her eyes falling shut.

A broken roar escaped his throat.

A roar that reached the stars that were watching all this play out. The agonized scream made them flinch, and some of them turned away, for even in all their centuries of watching this world, they could never get used to the death of one’s True Love.

Grim gathered her in his arms and kneeled over her beautiful, broken body.

“No, no, no,” he rasped. “No, Serena please, sweetheart, look at me. Open your eyes, angel, please, open your eyes.”

But she did not open her eyes, and she did not move, and he stayed there, holding her, heaving sobs escaping him.

“Weep not, warrior,” came a cool voice, like water falling on stone. “There is still hope.”

He looked up to see the last person he expected to see.

The Queen of Faeries stood there, clothed in a deep-blue gown, a white cape across her shoulders. He wanted to rage at her for not helping more, for hiding so much, but no words escaped him.

For how could he rage at another when he had failed to protect the love of his life?

“Kiss her,” said the queen.

He looked at her, wondering if she had lost her mind. Serena was gone, and that’s what she had to say ?

“Well, well, if it isn’t my cold-hearted wife,” said Lore. “Finally come crawling out? It’s just as well, saves me the trouble of looking for you.”

He looked at where Grim held Serena and sneered.

“Cruel of you to give the man false hope when both of us know True Love’s Kiss is a sham.”

“We know no such thing,” replied Nerida coldly, and then to Grim, in a much gentler tone, “Please, trust me on this. You must kiss her before it’s too late.”

His heart feeling like a dead weight in his chest, Grim leaned down and pressed a kiss to Serena’s lips, which were already turning cold.

“I’m sorry, Princess. Please, come back to me,” he choked out. “Come back, Serena.”

And then, right before his eyes, the wound in her chest began to close. The blood spatters on her chest lifted off, and then disappeared, and after five agonizing seconds, Serena opened her eyes.