Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback

“May I call you Karin?”


The sight of the towering Greve shattered Justus’s cultivated rage, reducing it to common, cringing fear. This was not a disfigured nobleman with unclipped nails and teeth filed to points, a deranged freak who considered himself a beast, but a real monster. The Greve could have lifted the carriage outside with his bare hands and thrown it as easily as a basket.

Justus fingered the handle of his cutlass, warmed by his body heat.

If the blade could even cut that thickly scarred hide, a mortal wound would take more strokes than Justus would have time to deal.

Time. Justus needed to plan, to spot a weakness in this imposing adversary and wait for a proper opportunity.

The Greve still waited for a reply. “Yes, Greve,” he blurted, demurely bowing his head. Justus’s mouth continued, against his better judgment.

“And what shall I call you?”

The Greve grinned, baring a vicious fence of teeth. “Monster is fine. Would you like supper, Karin?”

Justus wanted to say no, wanted to be locked in a cell with iron bars between him and Monster, but he should study his opponent, and moreover, he should eat when he could. It would keep him alert and strong. “Yes, Monster. Thank you.”

Valfrid whispered away, and Justus found himself alone with a living nightmare. Monster’s muscles rippled as he settled onto his haunches, clearly a more natural position for his mutant body. “I hope the ride here was pleasant?”

“As pleasant as I imagined,” Justus answered. He hadn’t intended to sound bitter.

Monster laughed, rich and silky but unbearably loud. “And the castle? How did you imagine my home?”

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? Cory Skerry ?

Worse smelling. Justus shrugged, his terror getting the better of him. He did not wish to hear that laugh again, and neither did he want to hear a roar.

They sat in silence until Valfrid arrived with a tray filled with roasted pheasant, potatoes, carrots, freshly baked bread, and new-churned butter. Justus found he was hungry despite his fears. With every bite, he imagined he was eating Monster.

And I will, when I succeed. I’ll carve a steak from his steaming carcass and roast it in the castle courtyard. I’ll kick out one of the panes of green glass to use as a plate, Justus thought.

Valfrid did not return with a plate for Monster, and Justus’s satisfaction melted away, dragging his appetite with it.

“Monster, where is your meal?”

Monster laughed again. “Don’t fret, Karin. I only eat my guests if they misbehave.”

Justus inhaled unexpected hope. Gudrun was always a dutiful woman—might she have survived? “Oh? Will the others be joining us?”

“They all misbehaved.”

Justus closed his eyes. He should have known.He shed silent tears for Gudrun, his beautiful, vivacious sister. She was never going to paint another ink mural on the whitewashed cottage wall, never fight for the first dipper of well water or call him “Padda” again. Had this awful creature abused Gudrun before her death? Forced himself on her, hairy and cruel and wild? Did he tear out her perfect white throat with his teeth? Justus suppressed his sobs, because while the tears helped his cause, any accidental noises might betray his masculinity.

He’d cultivated a habit of silencing even involuntary sounds.

“Don’t be so upset,” Monster coaxed. “You look obedient.”

“Yes, Monster,” Justus said, swallowing hard.

“I’m sure you’re very tired. Valfrid will take you to your chambers.”


Justus turned to find the lanky servant waiting at his elbow. Eager to leave Monster’s overwhelming presence, Justus wrapped his shawl tighter and hurried after Valfrid, who locked him in his room with a sharp iron click.

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