Page 87 of The Frog Prince
Casting the thoughts aside, he pulled on his brown breeches and the white shirt that buttoned high, then shrugged into his brown waistcoat and green tailcoat. Armored like this, Alwin felt more like himself again. Less exposed and vulnerable even as his throat and fingers tingled with the touch of fabric.
Prince?
The deep ribbit had Alwin jumping, pressing a hand to his chest. He turned to find Jurgen staring at him from a rock. He looked like he’d been there as long as the rock had.
“Jurgen.” Alwin straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat. “You scared me.”
He wondered if Jurgen had heard him. Or worse, seen him. It was too mortifying to contemplate. The rumors were probably already swirling the glen, told by eager frog mouths about their Prince flat on his back and begging…
News.
Embarrassment was washed away in a cold flush. Alwin stepped forward in panic, heart wrenching. “Farwin and Gisela?”
Hallin.
Alwin continued his pace forward and bent down by the rock, so eager he didn’t care if he was getting dirty. “What news?”
Singing in the streets. Wedding soon. Servants whisper. Frogs hear. Pass it along.
Alwin’s first reaction was elation, yet reality was swift and painful. He swallowed a sticky croak full of misery. His darling brother was getting married, and he wouldn't be able to make it after all. It would be another milestone missed entirely, the heavy weight of a crown he’d never wanted closer to his head.
“I’m sorry, Lorenz,” he whispered.
Even if he could hope against hope that his curse may eventually be broken, there were people in the village who needed them. If Alwin was fixed tomorrow, he couldn’t return home. Even if the town was cured the next day, he still couldn’t.
In all his fervor to rid himself of the curse, he’d bargained too much of himself at this point to be fit for a throne. He didn’t quite know how much of him was left.
Prince?Jurgen said.
Alwin shook his head, his heart aching so much he had to put a hand to it to stem the bleeding. “Are they happy, Jurgen?”
It was a ridiculous question to ask a toad, but Jurgen was more than that in Alwin’s eyes.
Hallin celebrates,Jurgen said, flicking his tongue out at Alwin.Happy.
Alwin closed his eyes again and nodded to himself. “That’s good. Maybe this is how it was meant to be after all.”
He got back to his feet, taking the longer path back to avoid getting wet.
Alwin rounded the corner and froze in place.
Otto was standing next to a fire that had been made inside a small circle of stones near the wall. His wet clothes were draped there to dry, while he himself was only wearing new, drybreeches and his boots, his braces hanging from their buttons down to his knees.
His entire torso was on display, the broad expanse of his back catching the flickering firelight. Soft peachy tones warmed into amber hues. When he looked over his shoulder at Alwin, the color reflecting in his blue irises was umber.
Alwin had never seen anything so lovely.
“Is the fire okay here?” Otto asked. “The magic is starting to wear off.”
Quickly averting his eyes, Alwin nodded. “Yes. I’ll have someone watch over it and we can build another in the next room. I apologize for not thinking of it when we arrived.”
Otto shrugged, muscles dancing under his skin. When he turned to face him, his sparse chest hair glistened like spun gold. “Moss blankets are surprisingly warm.”
Alwin had to turn around before he fell at Otto’s feet in supplication. “I’ll let you finish changing and meet you there.”
He escaped from the room, adjusting his collar again, the skin too sensitive after Otto’s attentions.
Building the fire calmed him. There was a broken fireplace that was perfect to set it in, and he’d asked his frogs to bring him kindling. It had caught nicely and was crackling away when Otto walked into the room, fully dressed.
