The pillars began to buckle. The air buzzed and crackled. Killian tucked Annette’s head against his chest, covering her as best as he could with his hands. They had to get out of there. Yet the sounds of the people inside filled his head, even louder than the thundering booms of ground threatening to open up and swallow them whole.
As suddenly as it began, the ground stopped shaking. The air around them continued to spark and fizz with invisible energy, a low ringing echoing in Killian’s ears. His heart pounded, and when he took a step back, his legs refused to cooperate. As he moved, Annette clutched on to him even tighter. He gave her what he hoped was a calm smile.
“It’s safe now,” he said, before glancing up at Melchior. “Are you hurt?”
But Melchior’s face had turned white, his hand trembling as he clutched the column for support.
“Cosette,” he said.
He bolted inside, and Killian grabbed Annette by the hand, following after. But he stopped as soon as they made it through the double doors, both now completely cracked. Thick, black dust clouded the air, the gnarled remains of the chandelier sunken into the ground. People sprawled on the floor amidst splashes of red.
Melchior took off toward the dining hall.
“Wait!” Killian tried to run after him, but Annette tugged him back. “It might not be safe!”
“I have to find her!”
Behind him, Annette erupted into a fit of coughs. He turned to see her covering her mouth with her free hand, her eyes watering. She gave his hand another tug, back towards the gardens.
“He’ll be fine,” she choked out. “We have to get out of here. It could start up again.”
He almost went with her, but stopped, looking around. How many of these women had he danced with the night before? One of them sat on the ground, holding herself and shaking. Another kneeled beside her, face twisted as she stared up at the cracked ceiling. He tried to remember their names. Maria? Or maybe Mary.
Torn gowns and shattered jewelry filled the room. A shrill whistle sliced through the air, and from all around men and women in sharp red uniforms began to pour in, rushing to the aid of the injured.
“We have to help them,” Killian said as he pulled his hand away from her. “Go outside, get some air. But I have to help.”
“Killian...”
Her soft voice stopped him in his tracks. Though she covered her mouth and nose again, her bright blue eyes glistened with tears. His throat thickened. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so afraid, her usual air of authority and confidence so swiftly shattered in the wake of complete destruction. He couldn’t leave her. Not like this.
“Come on.” He took her hand once more and led her back through the double doors. Outside, the air still trembled with magic, but the cool breeze helped in dulling the pangs of panic. “Here, sit down.”
He peered out to the gardens as she sat down on a stone bench. She wrapped her arms around herself and began to tremble, though she no longer coughed. He kept his hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently.
“Better?”
She nodded but didn’t look up. “Yes, thank you.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we were outside,” he said as he continued to scan the gardens, “if we were inside, we might have—”
His voice cut off as a team of healers from inside rushed out. They rushed straight to the gardens, the snow flying up around them in a frenzy. Killian’s stomach dropped. There were still people in there. People who may have been alone when the earth began to shake. A sickening realization punched Killian in the gut, and he stepped away from Annette.
“Killian?” Her voice was sharp.
But he didn’t answer. He could hear them now. Out in the maze of trees and snow, their voices swallowed up by the wind. They were screaming for help.
Empress Merav.
She went out there alone.
He sprinted down the steps, and Annette instantly called after him, “Where are you going!”
“Just stay here!” he called, not looking back “I have to help!”
“You can’t go in there!” Annette shrieked. “There are dangerous creatures in there! Killian! Killian!”
Her frantic voice faded away as he sprinted toward the labyrinthine gardens. His boots quickly became soaked through by the snow, his feet and legs numb. He tried not to trip, each harried breath a puff of white smoke.
They were louder now, the wails of utter terror. All around statues had crumbled, and a fountain lay completely on its side. Voices cried out, floating above the hedges, calling out in terror.
He turned a corner, skidding to a stop. A man lay on the ground, his head cradled in a woman’s lap. His eyes were closed, a pool of red seeping across his chest. The woman gasped as she looked up at Killian, her round eyes glossy with tears.
Killian’s gaze fell to the broken statue on the snow. “What happened?”
“He pushed me out of the way.” The woman’s voice cracked and she stifled a sob. “They told us to wait here, but…but I don’t know where they went.”
Killian looked up, scanning the area. “Who told you? The healers?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Please, will you help me?”
Killian clenched his jaw, giving another sweep of the area, but he saw no one else. He took a step forward, and then hesitated. “I’m looking for the Empress of Bruai Shia, have you seen her?”
“No. We haven’t seen anyone but the healers.” The woman shook her head. “I need to get him out of here.”
The man suddenly groaned in her lap, his eyelids fluttering open. The woman jumped with a startled cry, then wrapped her arms around his head, showering his forehead with kisses. Relief flooded Killian’s chest and he stepped back from them. “I’m sorry, but I have to find the empress.”
“Wait! Don’t leave us!”
“The healers will be back soon, they won’t leave you out here.” Killian tugged off his jacket, laying it across the man, covering the wound. “You’ll be alright.”
“Wait! Please, come back!”
He ignored her pleas, taking off again and racking his brain, trying to remember where exactly he had seen Merav last. His chest grew tight, a stitch forming in his side, but he didn’t slow down. If only he’d stayed with her longer.
“Merav!”
His voice rang in his ears, dampened by the snow.
Everything began to blur together. The trees. The snow. The sky. Soon he found more people, passing by face after terrified face, healer after healer, until finally there was no one left at all. No more crying. No more screams. His wobbling legs started to slow.
“Empress Merav! Can you hear me?”
His heartbeat pounded in the back of his skull, and each ragged breath clawed his throat. He tried to catch his breath, gather his bearings, but everything swirled together in an endless hurricane of white. His knees buckled; legs numb. He took a few steps back and couldn’t remember from which direction he had come from.
But soon, even his own strangled gasps grew hushed. For a moment, everything went silent. Then there was a yell.
Killian spun around.
He looked around wildly, trying to find where it had come from. Another yell followed, and Killian sprinted off again.
The trees grew more and more tangled, the carefully manicured shrubbery giving way to wild bushes and brambles. The voice grew louder, shouting in a language he didn’t understand. It wasn’t Merav, the voice was too deep, but it strained in panic.
Killian skidded to a stop as he cleared the trees. It was Fedya.
And another creature. Killian already knew what it was: a Grimbeast.
It hunched on all fours like an animal, but its spindly front legs were far too long. It was covered in thick, patchy gray fur, small, pointy ears pinned back to its flat skull. Its lips curled up past blood-red gums, and its long, yellowed teeth dripped with saliva. A quivering, pink tongue slipped out, licki
ng the creature’s nose in anticipation.
It cornered Fedya, pushing him further away from the safety of the shrubbery. Fedya held his side, and even from the distance Killian could see the bright splotch of crimson seeping through his fingers.
Holding his breath, Killian crept closer, and neither Fedya nor the Grimbeast seemed to notice him. He crouched down low, and scanned the area, seeking out anything he could use to drive the Grimbeast off. But there was nothing except more snow and broken tree branches.
He heard a growl and looked up. Bright orange eyes stared directly at him, slitted pupils dilating with excitement. Fedya’s head shot up to see what had caught the beast’s attention. His eyes widened as soon as he saw Killian.
“What are you doing here?!”
There was no time to answer. Killian’s ears filled with the sound of his slamming heart, his coarse breath burning his throat. He spotted a large branch just out of reach, heavy with brambles. He eased toward it, just as the monster took a step away from Fedya.
“Get out of here!” Fedya snarled again, but even as he yelled, Killian could hear the strain in his voice, the flutter of fear as he winced and clutched his side tighter.
With an ear-splitting howl, the Grimbeast burst into an impossibly fast sprint. Killian dove for the branch. His fingers wrapped around its thorns just as the creature landed solidly on his back. They slammed into the snow, and Killian twisted with a gasp, spinning away and landing a solid kick in the creature’s side. The Grimbeast squealed as it flew back, but it righted itself quickly with a furious growl.
Killian scrambled to his hands and knees, gasping for air as his right hand rapidly became drenched in blood from the thorns on the branch. He swung the branch out in front of him, almost swiping the monster’s nose, and it shrunk back, bristling.
He hobbled up to a stand. Though his body ached with the cold, the Grimbeast hadn’t hurt him. Not yet, anyway. He gave another wild swipe with the branch, not even sure what he was doing. He’d never held any sort of weapon before in his life. From the corner of his eye, he could see Fedya running toward them, leaving a trail of scarlet snow behind him.
“Look out!”
Killian spun around as the Grimbeast lunged. He tripped in the powdery snow, brandishing the branch like a shield. Sword-like teeth chomped down on the other edge of the branch, and Killian froze. His eyes locked with those of the wild creature, and a cold chill curled its way up his spine. The Grimbeast’s eyes were eerily intelligent, like those of a human. Scorching auburn, they reflected the glistening snow around them, and stared back, unblinking.
The branch was wrenched out of his hand and tossed to the side like a rag. There was nothing between him and the Grimbeast now. And he was the only thing standing between it and Fedya. Every shaky exhalation shook his vision, the snow starting to distort. He took a wobbly step forward and spread out his hands, as though he could block the way with his body.
A branch cracked. He didn’t remember looking away, but he heard a violent snarl rip through the air, and then a solid form collided against his chest.
He was on his back beneath a mass of teeth, claws, and fur. He could hear himself screaming, but it sounded far away as he struggled to kick off the creature, writhing in the snow. Somewhere Fedya yelled at him. No, wait. How could Fedya be yelling if he was lying in the snow? He wasn’t moving.
A viselike chomp clamped down on his arm. Killian screamed. Something warm dribbled down his arm, seeping his sleeve in thick, dark liquid.
The yelling grew louder. It was more than one voice. He could see them now. People in white and green uniforms, racing over to them. Some of them had guns. They were getting closer, but somehow their words were starting to blur in a screaming haze. A single explosion cut through the haze. The pressure vanished from his arm, the weight flew off his chest.
His hollow breathing soon muffled out even their voices. He didn’t recognize any of them, one face after another. They kneeled at his side, still yelling to one another. Killian turned his head, the world swinging around him. They were by Fedya’s side too. He still wasn’t moving. The snow wasn’t white anymore. All of it was red.
Then, everything was black.
W
hen Killian opened his eyes, he saw Annette. Bright sunlight reflected off her curled, golden tresses, that spilled across her bare shoulders, her pale skin a shade of milky porcelain. She smiled at him. She looked like an angel.
“Hi Killian.”
He didn’t answer her. Not right away. His gaze slipped away from her, slowly looking around. They weren’t alone. A round couch was tucked inside the small room, and Melchior lay sprawled out on it, head tilted back in a deep sleep. Like his sister, he still wore his clothes from earlier that day, his jacket a mass of wrinkles and dust. Cosette was curled up at his side, her head on his lap as she slept, though she was already dressed in a light blue nightgown. Neither of them stirred as Annette spoke again.
“How are you feeling?”
He looked back to her, and when he spoke, his words felt as dry as his lips. “Where am I?”
“The infirmary,” she said, before reaching out and gently lying a hand on his forehead. “Don’t worry, I made sure only the best healers worked on you. You should start feeling better very soon.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“The warlocks are already rebuilding the castle.” She continued, “You wouldn’t believe it. The ballroom looks brand new again. So much for family heirlooms, though. I don’t think it really counts if they’re constantly being put back together again with magic.”
His lips twitched in a smile at her tone, as she too returned a small smirk. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago her voice was trembling with an unfamiliar fear and her eyes had glistened with tears. The memory still unnerved Killian, and he was glad to see the return of her haughty attitude. At least something was still normal.
He craned his neck and tried to peer out the window up above him. A spattering of stars dotted the inky night sky. A light pounding pulsed at his temples, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he took in a deep breath. He tried to recall where he had been before. The earthquake. The gardens. The Grimbeast.
Killian’s eyelids flew back open and he sat up straight. “Fedya. Merav.” He looked around wildly. “Where is everyone?”
Annette jumped from her chair, her hand on his shoulder. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “Everyone is fine, I promise. No one got seriously hurt. Well, not unless you count Barron Frosthar and his stubbed pinky toe that everyone has to hear about, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to survive that tragedy. I guess when you live in a country with so many earthquakes, you learn how to deal with them pretty quickly.”
Everything was starting to ache, but Killian continued to look around as he tried to soak in her words. She pushed lightly on his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back down again, but he resisted.
“Where’s Fedya?”
Annette’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”
“Fedya,” Killian repeated as he plucked her hand away. “I was with him, out in the snow.”
“Oh! You mean that short, angry person? I’m not really sure.” She shrugged. “He was yelling at everyone in some foreign language and then he just stormed out of the infirmary. He was all bandaged up.”
“Annette...” Killian grumbled as his head hit the pillow.
“I didn’t know it was that important! He was walking, that’s a good sign, right?”
“Not if he left before they could finish healing him.” Killian tried to keep his voice even. “I think that monster got him really bad.”
“Well, excuse me, but didn’t you just meet this guy? Since when did he matter so much to you?”
He shot her an irritated glance, his fingers twitching at his sides. “You didn’t think I might want to know what happened to the person I almost died next to?”
“Oh my goodness, don’t be so dramatic,�
� Annette muttered, and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he just went back to his room. I doubt he’d want to travel this time of night anyway.”
“I should go see him.”
“No.”
Killian puffed his cheeks at her, but knew better than to argue. She stuck her tongue at him in return.
“Here,” Annette said, as she reached to the bedside table and picked up a cup of tea, placing it in his hands. “I brought you this. It will probably do you some good, you were nearly frostbitten when they brought you in.”
The steaming cup burned his fingertips, but he didn’t take a sip. He sighed and leaned back into the pillows, mind still ticking. He had to find Fedya.
He glanced back at Annette. “Did you bring me anything to eat?”
“Actually, I did. But her Highness,” she rolled her eyes and nodded over at Cosette on the couch, “decided to help herself.”
Killian laughed, but the motion instantly left his ribs aching. Still, the thought of it kept him smiling as he glanced back at Annette. “Too bad I’m so hungry,” he said. “If only I could go get something to eat for myself. But I can’t because I’m stuck in this bed.”
“That’s not going to work, you know.”
“Of course it is. Otherwise I might become delirious and eat my own hand.”
“That’s very convincing,” Annette muttered as she stood. “I’ll see if I can find a nurse. I’ll be right back.”
She leaned over, placed a tender kiss atop his forehead, and walked out of the room. Killian hardly waited for the door to click shut before he thrust the sheets off him. He promptly spilled his tea across his lap, and for the first time realized he wasn’t wearing any pants.
He clasped a hand over his mouth, stifling a scream as he wrenched the blankets up and wiped himself off. His tender flesh tingled, and he blew as silently as possible on his thighs as he eased himself out of the bed, all the while staring at Melchior and Cosette. Neither had budged from their slumber.
FAIRYTALE Page 5