Page 104 of The Frog Prince
“Mother,” Frieda called, the vial still clutched in her hand, “are you certain?”
“Of course I am. Whatever is in that vial can’t possibly be worse than your cooking.”
“I do hope this ends you,” Frieda said, her voice wobbling as she uncorked the vial. She passed it to her mother with her eyes shining in delight at the barbed quips Otto knew were their love language.
Brigit took the vial, and with a quirked smile, raised it to Otto and Frieda before tipping it back and swallowing the contents in one gulp.
Otto watched, frozen, as her throat convulsed around the tonic, forcing it down. He could almost see it traveling through her body, doing unknown things to her. He didn’t blink, didn’t move. He was silent and still as he waited for something, anything to let him know if he had done the most amazing or the worst thing he possibly could have.
She understood the risks, he knew that. And she was strong-willed and opinionated and able to make her own decisions. But he knew the guilt wouldn’t ask for reason. If she died because of something he had given her, he’d carry that for the rest of his life.
Frieda’s cool hand found his as she stared at her mother just as raptly as he was. Brigit was still swaddled in blankets, still perched on her pillows, still frail and ashen looking.
But…
“It is very hot in here, isn’t it?” she said suddenly.
Frieda snapped her head around to look at Otto.
“She has been shivering for days now.” She jumped up to peel a few blankets away from Brigit’s body and open a window on the opposite wall from where the bed was.
“She can hear you,” Brigit said, and Frieda narrowed her eyes, the corners of her lips pulling up into a careful smile.
“I think I preferred you silent,” she threw back, walking over and kneeling next to her mother’s head.
She reached out and stroked her hair back away from her face.
“Mother,” she said softly.
“I am quite thirsty too,” Brigit said.
Frieda’s body finally crumpled forward, loud, gut-wrenching sobs tearing out of her chest. She leaned her head on the bed, shoulders shaking and voice breaking as she cried, desperate and aching.
Otto covered his mouth with his fingers, watching Brigit console her daughter as the color visibly returned to her cheeks. The dullness in her eyes receded, leaving bright blue, clear and present. Her hand found its way out of the blankets and she pushed herself up, leaning over her daughter and stroking her hair.
“Shhh, love,” she whispered. “I am here.”
“Mother…” Frieda clutched at the blankets around her. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“You won’t be getting rid of me so easily,” Brigit said, and Frieda laughed through her sobs.
Over Frieda’s curled body, Brigit caught Otto’s eye and smiled.
“Always knew you’d do great things, boy,” she said. “Your kindness and devotion to your calling would never go unrewarded.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked. His voice was rough and his body still taut, but a warmth was spreading through him at the idea that he might be getting what he had wanted: everyone around him healthy and well.
“Weak,” she said. “Tired. But the way you feel after a day of hard work, not like I am one step from leaving this world.”
“That is good to hear.” He stepped forward to do some of his own meticulous checks.
“It is thanks to you,” she said as she allowed him to maneuver around her. “Now…as much as I appreciate having a handsome healer all to myself, I do believe there are others in need of your attention.”
He nodded and stepped back, brushing his shaking hands over his wrinkled breeches. She seemed strong and healthy. It was a miracle.
“I will stop by as soon as I can to check in on you once more.”
“Go see the man out.” Brigit gave Frieda a little nudge, and she kissed her mother’s forehead before standing and walking Otto to the door.
