Chapter 4
JACOB
MAIER MANOR
Aservant hands us clean towels, bandages, and a bowl of water. I barely thank her before she scurries off.
“Can’t say I trust these people,” Rumpelstiltskin mutters. “Keeping ravens and crows as pets. No good can come of that.”
“You’re one to talk.” I scrub away the dried blood.
The memory of the woman striding across the field, black skirts kicking up in the wind, golden curls whipping about her, while the ravens soared above as if flying under her command. She’s altogether terrifying, clever, and stunning mixed into one.
Unlike anyone I’ve ever seen.
But the wolf attack is alarming. Strange creatures. Too large and vicious to be typical gray wolves. And far too clever.
“I’m a fool.” I smack the towel against my thigh. “I forgot to ask her name.”
“How unfortunate for you.” Rumpelstiltskin grimaces as he pats his ear. “I, on the other hand, know it. Lucky me.”
“I wouldn’t bother wiping down that ear. Might be a waste of time should I decide to kill you.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t yet.”
“Stay on good behavior and you’ll live. The moment you try anything, our deal is done. Got it?”
He glares at me. “Her name is Ella von Maier, daughter of an unrenowned noble on the brink of ruin.” His eyes perk up as Ella exits the manor, escorted by her chaperone. “Ah, and here she is now.”
“You know a lot for a man who lives under a hill.”
“That’s my business. Know everything and everyone. Especially their weaknesses.” The old man winks and turns to Ella as she walks to her carriage. “Good day, miss.”
“Otto.” She pauses. “You’re still bleeding. Let me give you a ride. I’d like to look at your head wound. I won’t have you dying under my watch.”
“Don’t mind if I do!” Otto soaks up her kind smile like a gremlin sneaking cookies from the pantry and shoots me a triumphant look. “Now who’s wishing he didn’t heal so quickly, eh?”
I scowl as he hurries into the carriage. Now I’ll have to follow them the whole way to make sure the fiend doesn’t escape. The footman opens the door, but Ella waves me over, holding out a piece of material.
“Your handkerchief, Jacob Grimm,” she says, climbing into the carriage.
I come to her side and stare up at her. Thick lashes frame eyes so blue they must have been stolen from the summer sky—bright, endless, and far too dangerous. My heart does this strange flip like it’s forgotten how to beat properly.
“You keep it.” I push it back, trying to ignore the scent of lilacs drifting off her skin. “A small token of gratitude.”
“If I were you,” Otto interrupts us, “I’d burn that. Nasty.”
I expect her to toss it back at me, but she tucks it into the folds of her gown. “Then I will keep it.” A mischievous smile curls on her pink lips. “Nasty kerchief and all.”
“As you wish.” I bow.
The footman closes the door, and I retreat to my horse. I flick my reins and ride alongside the carriage, needing to keep a close eye on Otto. He spots me watching Ella bandage him up and grins a toothless smile. Sending this Forbidden back to his realm can’t come soon enough.
I peek at the hourglass again. Even as it lies on its side, the liquid flows.
I have two hours, three tops, before Wilhelm dies.
I suck in deep breaths, reminding myself that Wilhelm has most of the story already written.
We only need a few final touches for it to be complete, which Rumpelstiltskin will provide.
As long as I don’t lose him between here and the bookshop.
Feeling eyes on me, I look over and find Ella studying me through the open window. Quickly, I close my sack.
“So you’re setting up a bookshop?” she asks. “You won’t get much business, I’m afraid. Not much happens in our little village.”
“I’ve heard the king has finished his new castle. That might change things.”
She frowns. “Perhaps, but I doubt King Frederick cares about our success. Many people are angry he hasn’t dealt with the wolf attacks.”
I wish I could tell her Wilhelm and I are the help sent by the king, but that’s another secret added to the mounting pile I’m bound to never share.
“When we get to the village, you should report your wolf sighting,” I offer. “That will get people’s attention.”
“So confident for a stranger. I think you’ll find the villagers aren’t that welcoming to foreigners, nor quick to help a lord’s daughter.”
“Fear makes people do strange things.”
Shadows worry her face. “We’ve had too much loss and sorrow to find room for generosity.”
I grip my reins tighter. Loss, sorrow, suffering. Those have been my language and life ever since I signed the Enchantress’s contract.
“My brother and I are hunters,” I find myself saying. “I’ll do what I can to get rid of these wolves.”
The wind tugs the curls beneath her brimmed hat. “You would do this sort of thing for me? Why?”
“You rescued me from certain death. It’s the least I can do.”
“Considering my birds could’ve skinned you, I’m not sure you’re worthy of the task.”
I scowl, ready to defend myself, only to find those large eyes twinkling. Curse it all, this woman might be trouble for me. “I suppose I must prove myself then.”
“I look forward to it.” And with a knowing grin, she leans back against her seat.
We’re coming up on the first thatched roofs, white walls laced with dark wooden beams, and I remind myself that I can’t afford distractions. Especially ones that make the day seem brighter.
Honau is a small village, alive with children racing across the dirt road, playing tag while a woman scolds them from her flower-boxed window.
We clatter past the mill and then the blacksmith until we reach the village center, cluttered with shops and houses and a tiny white-steepled church tucked in its center.
“What do you think of our little village?” Ella interrupts my thoughts. “Not as fancy as you’re used to?”
“It reminds me of better days.” My mind clings to memories running through the streets of Steinau with Wilhelm, where sticks were swords and our greatest enemies were our shadows.
“And there’s the castle.” She points to the hill.
Above, clinging atop the rocky cliffs, sits Lichtenstein Castle, one of King Frederick’s many homes, outlined against the cobalt sky. Misty clouds shroud its white tower, transforming it into a relic of haunting beauty.
I press my lips together, hating the reminder of our true purpose for imposing on this quaint village.
In Wilhelm’s and my recent travels, we heard rumors about strange occurrences coming from the area surrounding the Black Forest. Needing an excuse to investigate the region, Wilhelm concocted a plan to send a letter offering our hunting services to King Frederick, which he promptly replied to with a yes and a bag of coins.
So here we are, already chasing a story before we’ve time to gather our wits about us.
The carriage halts at the village square, where a market is set up. On the church steps, a mob gathers, yelling as a man hammers a piece of paper on one of the double wooden doors already cluttered with other notices. A sketch of a young man and the word MISSING is scrawled on top of the parchment.
“It was the beast!” the man hammering tries to explain to the angry group. “Someone needs to go out and take care of it.”
Gasps mixed with laughter erupt. The moment I hear the word beast, I halt my horse.
“It’s not a beast,” someone calls out. “Just some pesky wolf.”
“Pesky wolves?”
“You’re a fool. You know nothing!”
“Don’t be lying to us.” A burly man steps up, wagging a finger in the hammer man’s face. “That idiot son of yours ran off to join the Southlands’ army. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“Take those words back!”
The tense mob transforms into a brawl. Once this all clears up, I’m going to have to look at those notices on the door. Ella’s carriage parks a safe distance away, and I dismount, ready to grab Baldy should he try to escape.
When she steps onto the cobblestone street, she assesses the mob. “Appears things have gotten worse.”
Ella’s chaperone gives me a pointed look as if warning me to keep my distance.
“What do you mean?” I ask and then clap Rumpelstiltskin on the shoulder. He futilely wiggles against my iron grip.
“In the last month, many of our villagers have gone missing,” she explains.
“Some people think it’s the wolves. Others claim it’s a beast. Then last week, the baker’s wife said the sound of a flute woke her.
According to her, she looked out her window to find a bunch of townsfolk walking down the street.
They disappeared into the forest. No one has seen them since. ”
“What do you think?”
“I think people make up all sorts of stories to explain things they don’t understand.”
I’m inclined to believe the baker’s wife.
“I’m indebted to your kindness.” I bow. “If you ever need anything, stop by our bookshop.”
“Such a gentleman,” Rumpelstiltskin mutters, rolling his eyes.
“I appreciate that.” She adjusts her silk gloves. “But what I need right now is a miracle. Don’t imagine you have any of those up your sleeve?”
“He can only promise pain and death.” Rumpelstiltskin steps in front of me, flourishing a bow. “I, on the other hand, can be trusted. Should you wish for a miracle? I’ll provide it for you. Money? Power? Love?”
“What a funny man you are.” Ella chuckles and taps her chin, a smile tipping her lips. “Let’s see—”
“Don’t listen to him,” I interrupt, pushing Baldy aside, heart pounding. The last thing I need is for her to become indebted to him. “He’s a liar and a thief.”
Rumpelstiltskin shrugs. “It’s why Grimm has been debating whether he should slice my head off now and later.”
“How barbaric!” Ella exclaims in mock humor.
“Indeed.” It’s best not to tell her the old villain is telling the truth.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she says. “I must go make a trade of goods. Good day.”
I bow as she leaves, while her chaperone continues glaring at me as she trails behind Ella.
I grab Rumpelstiltskin by the arm and start hauling him down the street with one hand while leading my horse with the other. I’ve not gotten three feet when a stately carriage led by six horses thunders into the village, blocking my path.
The carriage bears the crest of a black lion and golden deer on either side of the shield of Swabia. King Frederick’s coat of arms. Strange. I didn’t expect the king until winter. It also means I need to get involved. I suppose if there was ever a good time, it’s now.
“Lucky for you,” I tell Baldy. “Your head gets to stay on your neck for another few minutes.”
“How fortuitous.” He spits on the ground.
Dust billows around the carriage as a footman opens the door and out steps a man about my age with reddish curly hair and a thick beard.
He’s wearing a striking blue tunic with lace billowing around his neck.
Bright green eyes assess the village square as he brushes off the road dust from his fine clothes.
This isn’t the king—it’s his son, Prince William.
The mob surveys him, oddly quiet.
“Your Highness,” the hammer man calls out, nose bleeding. “What’s to be done with the beast?”
“Beast?” The prince pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering to his head guard, “I don’t have time to deal with these villagers’ superstitions.”
“Six young men missing in the past week,” a woman adds. “That makes fifteen in all!”
“When will the king realize his people need him?” another asks.
The crowd advances on the prince. Quickly, the guards surround him.
“I believe you’re looking for me,” I announce, striding forward, dragging Rumpelstiltskin behind me.
The prince raises his eyebrows while the group turns to me in surprise.
“The king cares very much about his subjects,” I continue, though I doubt it’s true. “He has sent my brother and me to scout the land and take note of any unusual activity. If you have any interesting stories to share with us, we’re eager to hear them. You can find us in our new bookshop.”
“Stories? Foreigners prowling about our lands?” The accusations boom from a man standing on top of the village well.
He’s wearing a patterned cravat and a double-breasted brown coat with a dark fur collar.
His hair is perfectly groomed beneath his hat.
He waves a cane to get our attention. “This is how the king deals with our problems. Now I understand how little King Frederick cares for us. How do we not know that you aren’t responsible? ”
The mob cries out with approval. My mouth dries up. He’s right.
“Dr. Wissen, maybe you can help,” the hammer man says. “My son went missing last night. I’ve scoured the countryside for him.”
“Come to the town hall tomorrow night for a meeting,” Dr. Wissen announces. “We’ll find a way to save our village. Everyone is invited. Even you, Your Royal Highness.”
“How considerate.” Prince William looks anything but pleased.
There’s some rumbling from the group, villagers eyeing Rumpelstiltskin and me, but they finally back off. Of course, it doesn’t hurt when the prince orders his guards to assist.
“Your Royal Highness.” I bow. “Jacob Grimm, at your service.”
“Your service was appreciated,” Prince William says, taking in the scene as he rips off his jacket and frilly collar.
He tosses the clothing at his footman, who desperately tries to catch them.
“It appears next time I enter the village, I’ll need a disguise.
A good way to learn about your kingdom is when no one knows who you are, right?
You wouldn’t happen to know of an inferior tailor who’ll do a fine job of ruining my ensemble or perhaps pants and a shirt like a commoner such as yourself? ”
I stiffen in annoyance. My family is hardly wealthy. I’ve always believed our station in life doesn’t represent who we are, but rather our work ethic and contributions to society. I point to the shop Ella entered. “Perhaps that place might be able to help you.”
Without thanks, the prince heads off. Fine by me. Time is flying, and the hourglass waits for no one. Not even a prince.