They refilled his bowl without question, but this time Killian hesitated. He looked back to the fire, to the people retreating back to their benches, cupping their bowls and slices of bread tight. He swallowed and his stomach twisted again, but this time it wasn’t from hunger.
The old woman retreated to her bench, and a second later a young girl plopped down beside her, smiling wide and reaching for one of the wax flowers. Killian’s lips twitched and he clenched his jaw tight. He looked around the inside of the chapel again, its bare walls and simple furniture. Yet everyone gave thanks. They bowed their heads and took each other’s hands, warming them by the fire. They didn’t have everything they wanted, yet still they smiled.
He turned away, holding the bowl a bit closer to his chest, and silently crept out of the room, back up the stairs to the rafters. How did he have everything and never once smiled like they did?
The light from the full moon spilled in through the windows, illuminating the floor in a soft, white glow. Killian walked over to them and set his bowl down on the ledge, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. He couldn’t see the auditorium anymore, or the train station. But through the thick clouds the gleaming gold of the palace persisted.
He pulled out the wax flower, rubbing his thumb over one of the crooked petals. His chest tightened and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Light it and remember the memory of your loved ones.”
Killian’s eyes stung, and he blinked rapidly as his vision began to distort. Did anyone even know he was gone? Would someone contact his mother? Tell her what happened? How long would she hold out hope for his return? He wished he had hugged her long when he’d left, squeezing extra tight as her frail body shook from a cold only she ever felt. It was best she’d stayed behind. She was finally getting better again.
What about Melchior? Or Annette? Did they miss him? Were they still waiting behind for him, determined that he would succeed? And what about Cosette too? Had she managed to sneak Stella a sufficient amount of shrimp?
That one almost made him smile. A footstep thumped on the stairs and he looked up. The steps creaked and then a familiar set of amber eyes peeked up at him. He instantly stood up.
“You came back.”
Fedya’s brows knitted together as he climbed the final step. He no longer wore the glittering suit from before, but instead donned an unobtrusive dark-gray coat, wool slacks, and boots. His long hair was pulled back in a simple, yet mussed-up bun, as if in direct defiance of the poised and polished crown he’d worn earlier.
“You forgot your lager,” Fedya muttered as he stepped over and placed the cup on the windowsill beside the bowl of soup.
“Oh.” Killian stared at it. “Um. Thank you.”
Fedya stepped beside him, crossing his arms and staring out the window. Killian quickly looked forward again, sneaking a glance at the steaming brown liquid. He cleared his throat and awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair before picking it up and taking a sip. His throat lurched in protest and he slammed the cup back down. Fedya eyed him, his expression impossible to read, and he picked up the cup and took a long drink.
Killian tried not to grimace, swallowing down the bitterness left on his tongue. Fedya finished half the cup before setting it back down. He inhaled deeply before glancing back over at Killian. “Have you got a plan of any sort? Somewhere to go to? Family? Friends?”
Killian quickly blinked, trying to will away the piercing needles that pricked his eyes. But the words wouldn’t come.
You. You’re my friend.
He managed a slight shake of his head instead.
At least, that’s what I’d hoped for.
Fedya sighed. “Listen, you don’t need to tell me your life story. But you do need to be honest with me. If you’re in any kind of trouble, tell me now, or I can’t help you at all.”
Killian froze. A flurry of unexpected hope welled up in his chest. Did Fedya remember him?
“You want to help me?”
Fedya paused, eyeing Killian slowly. “Are people looking for you?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.” Killian spoke a bit louder this time. “I promise.”
Again Fedya hesitated, still staring at Killian from the corner of his eye before picking up the lager again and taking another sip. At last he flicked his gaze back out the window, and for a few seconds he said nothing, drinking in thought. Finally he set the cup down. “If you need help, I can get you work at the palace.”
Killian’s heart fumbled. No. Fedya still had no idea who he was. But he quickly swallowed, shoving away his disappointment. At least Fedya was here, someone familiar in all of this mess. “Really?”
“For a little bit of time, yes.”
Killian nodded slowly. Was that what he was going to do now? Stay here? Work at the palace? He inhaled deep, a sharp pain slashing through his lungs. What about Maman? What about Astrocia?
He curled his fingers in tight against his palms and shoved his hands inside his coat. Fedya didn’t remember who he was; did he even really exist here? Did he exist at all anymore, or was he just as Fedya had called him—a runaway?
He licked his lips tentatively. “Doing what?”
“I’ll think of something.”
He didn’t sound angry like usual, the bite and malice gone from his words. But there was something else there instead, a nervous lilt masked behind a façade of pompous nonchalance. He didn’t sound natural.
“I don’t mean to cause you trouble. I know you didn’t have to come back here.”
Fedya took another sip and shrugged. “It’s just as well. They don’t exactly want me at the palace right now after what happened earlier.”
Killian tried to bite his tongue. Fedya wouldn’t look back at him, but Killian longed for nothing more than to catch a glimpse of his familiar golden eyes. At least Fedya was still here. He hadn’t changed at all. “Won’t Dmitri mind?”
Fedya shot Killian a sharp look and Killian stumbled over his words. “Forgive me, Prince Dmitri.”
“No,” Fedya answered, his voice flat. “He has too much to prepare for the coronation tomorrow evening.”
His body remained tight, and his words grew clipped at the end. But as he lowered his eyes, staring into the cup, his shoulders dropped. “To be honest, he likely won’t even notice you at all.”
The shift in Fedya’s voice sent guilty chills deep in Killian’s chest. He recognized that hushed, defensive tone, the guarded way Fedya poised himself, subtle yet tense. That’s right. Dmitri was still alive here. Dmitri, the man Killian was supposed to marry, heir to the throne. Killian’s stomach twisted even tighter. Still alive, breathing, pushing through the heartache. Dmitri was all Fedya had left.
Killian’s fingers clamped around something warm and soft, and he glanced down, pulling the warm object out from his pocket. It was the wax flower. One of the petals had begun to bend against his thumb, but he only pressed down against it harder. He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
Fedya didn’t answer, but he did swallow and almost nodded. He then jerked back, blinking, and took one final, deep swig from the cup. “Come on, then, no use waiting around here any longer.” He turned back to the stairs. “Let’s get going.”
He led Killian down the steps without another word and back out the side door of the chapel. The frigid air nipped Killian’s nose and ears instantly. Their boots crunched across the newly fallen snow, but the sounds of the street had grown muffled in the waning night. A sleek, black automobile was parked at the end of the alley, the engine quietly grumbling, a small blue and white flag attached to its hood.
Fedya pulled open the driver’s seat and slipped inside. “Get in.”
Killian’s eyes widened as he scanned the ritzy vehicle, and he quickly scrambled to the passenger door and plopped inside. “I didn’t know you
could drive.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
The headlights flooded the road and Fedya grabbed the stick shift and the vehicle lurched forward, followed by a loud crunch. They jolted to a halt and Fedya grimaced. Killian pressed against the window, peering out. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Fedya muttered, and he deliberately maneuvered the wheel again, and they slowly began to ease out of the alley onto the main road.
The streets were mostly empty, but lit up bright by the vibrant radiance of the full moon. The buildings blurred together in shadow, making them impossible to discern from one another as Fedya drove them through the city toward the towering domes of the palace. Even in the night it glittered like a jewel, its hundreds of windows alight and twinkling.
But Killian ignored it all, unable to keep from looking at Fedya as they drove, searching for anything, any hint at all, as to what he could be thinking. But Fedya kept his eyes glued to the road, his mouth set in a determined line. Twice Killian tried to speak, but both times the words died away in his throat.
The automobile slowed as they reached the iron gates and curved toward the back near the stables. Though all of the horses were put away for the night, a sprinkling of men bundled in thick coats and caps wandered the grounds.
“Maybe keep your head down,” Fedya said. “I don’t really want to deal with proper procedures tonight.”
Killian hunched in his seat, but he tilted his head, trying to peek out the window as Fedya drove them inside a detached garage and parked beside a row of identical black automobiles. Cautiously, Killian straightened up, taking in the large room. On the other side of the vehicles were buggies and carriages, all lined up and polished to a gleam. Even in Astrocia he’d never seen such a vast variety of transportation in one place.
“Wow…”
“Hurry up.”
Fedya wasted no time, and Killian climbed out after him. Fedya walked briskly, keeping his head low as he led Killian out of the garage and across the grounds. The palace towers blocked out the moon, leaving the snow-covered ground masked in shadows, everything turning into black, lumpy shapes.
It didn’t seem to deter Fedya any as he forged on ahead, keeping his head tucked, though whether it was from the cold or the eyes of the groundskeepers Killian wasn’t sure. The moment Fedya opened a door and led them inside they were awash in golden light. All the stillness and calm of streets disappeared into a flurry of bustling bodies and endless chatter.
“Stay close,” Fedya muttered.
Killian nearly tripped trying to keep up. He couldn’t help it. The inside of the palace positively gleamed, all gilded molding and enormous chandeliers. Crimson velvet curtains swathed across the windows, accentuating the delicate ivory and pale-blue patterns painted on the walls and ceilings. Compared to Fedya’s usual plain attire, it wasn’t at all what he expected.
No one paid them any mind, consumed in conversation and scurrying by holding bolts of heavy fabric and pushing trays piled high with dishes. Fedya kept close to the wall, his footsteps across the sleek tiled floor blending in with the rest of the chaos.
They reached a pair of golden doors and Fedya hurriedly pulled Killian inside, shutting the doors quickly after. Instantly, the din from the halls hushed, the silence almost overwhelming. Fedya sighed and cleared his throat, walking through the shrouded room.
Killian watched him but remained by the door. In the silence he could hear his heart pounding in sudden exhilaration. “Is it always so busy?”
“No, everyone’s just in a panic because of tomorrow.” There was a click and then a lamp flicked on. “You can sleep here tonight.”
They were in a small room lined in plush carpet and draped in the same rich fabric from the hall. A carved desk and matching chair were situated in one corner beside a large window, its curtains half drawn. Elegant frames lined the walls, but the images were too shadowy to see properly in the dark.
Killian took a careful step forward. “What is this room?”
“Just my parlor, no one will bother you in here,” Fedya said, unfolding the blanket from the chaise longue in the middle of the room. “I’ll bring you fresh clothes in the morning.”
Killian spotted two closed doors on either ends of the room. Fedya quickly stepped forward. “That one leads to the study, there’s an attached washroom if you need it.”
“And the other?”
“My private rooms. Please don’t go in there.”
Fedya laid the blanket on the chaise before walking briskly back to the door that led to the hallway. Killian remained still, each heartbeat still echoing in his ears, feeling numb. The dim light hardly lit anything up at all, leaving him in a room of shadows. Fedya reached for the doorknob and Killian stiffened. “Aren’t you going to bed?”
“Not yet, I still have a lot of things to do.” Fedya glanced back at him and paused. His grip tightened on the knob. But neither of them moved, everything still.
Killian’s heartbeat thrummed in his ears, his mouth dry. He wanted Fedya to stay. At least a little bit longer.
“Why are you helping me?”
His question strung between them like a spider web, delicate and frail. Fedya wavered. He opened his mouth, looking ready to respond. Then he instantly clamped it back shut again, a deep blush rising on his cheeks. His eyes instantly flicked to the side, and he cleared his throat.
“Good night, Killian.”
Fedya left the room quickly, swallowed up by the noise and chaos outside. But his voice rang in Killian’s ears long after Fedya was gone, and he eased himself down onto the chaise. It was stiff and cold, and he remained staring at the door where Fedya disappeared. He didn’t reach for the blanket or look outside the blackened window. But he thought about that blush, and Fedya’s voice, saying his name.
“Good night.”
A
rabbit sat on Killian’s chest when he opened his eyes. He felt its heartbeat first, quick and even, almost like a hum. Then he cracked open an eyelid and a fuzzy white nose twitched back at him.
“What the—”
The rabbit was small, fluffy, and completely snow-white. It stared directly at him, blinking its bright pink eyes in a way that was just a little too intelligent. Despite its size, Killian didn’t move. He glanced around once, and saw the door to the hallway was cracked open. He looked back to the rabbit. It flicked its whiskers and leapt off him.
Killian bolted upright, eyes widening.
The tiny creature leapt to the door. Killian jumped to his feet, flying after it and nearly toppling face-first into the wall. The crowd from the night before had dispersed, leaving the halls eerily quiet. Killian hardly noticed as the rabbit dashed around a corner. He sprinted after it and collided head first into another body.
“Augh!”
Fedya stumbled back, his entire front soaking wet, his glass clattering to the ground. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry!”
Killian grabbed Fedya’s shoulders to steady him, but his eyes darted around the wide hall. The rabbit was nowhere in sight. “I just, I saw…”
He glanced back at Fedya and quickly pulled back, face suddenly burning. He cleared his throat and hastily smoothed back his hair, resisting the urge to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I’m sorry; I just thought I saw something strange.”
Fedya scowled, wiping off a drop of liquid from his chin. “I told you to stay in my room. What was so important that you had to run out here without shoes on?”
Killian glanced down at his stocking feet and his cheeks burned even hotter. He knelt to pick up the cup, hoping Fedya wouldn’t notice the rising tinge of pink on his face. “It was nothing,” he muttered. “I thought I saw a rabbit or something, but that’s ridiculous.”
“A rabbit?” Fedya’s voice shifted. “Was it white?”
Killian hesitated as he snatched the cup and straightened up, a familiar bitter scent tickling his nose. “Yea
h, it was. So?”
“Seeing a white rabbit is a sign of good luck.” An unsettling excitement laced Fedya’s words. “Where did you first see it? Did it do anything before it ran away?”
Killian frowned as he straightened up, and he tried not to eye the golden liquid that now stained the front of Fedya’s vest. “I don’t know, I don’t think so. When I woke up it was just sitting on me, then it ran off. I only saw it for a second.”
“Wait, it was actually on you?”
“Yes. Fedya, what was in this cup?”
Fedya pulled back, the excitement shaken from his face. He glanced at the cup in Killian’s hand and instantly snatched it away. “Nothing,” he snapped. “At least, nothing for you to concern yourself with. Here.”
He shoved the contents of his other hand against Killian’s chest: a set of clothes folded neatly, one corner damp from the spill. Killian fumbled with them, but he glanced down, eyeing the brown liquid splashed across the once gleaming floor. “I should clean that up.”
“Someone else will do it. Just go get dressed and washed up, I don’t have time to deal with this today.”
Killian nodded and took a step back, but he hesitated. Fedya looked different from the night before, though he couldn’t quite place why. Either way, he didn’t want to leave him yet. Fedya was still the only thing familiar about this world, and quite possibly the only one who could help him find any answers.
“Uh,” he tried not to fidget, “aren’t you going to show me my new job?”
Fedya scowled and tried to adjust his soggy vest. “Not today,” he said flatly. “You’re just going to have to wait. There’s still too much left to prepare before my brother’s coronation tonight. You can stay in my room again.”
Killian glanced back the way he’d come. Stuck alone in Fedya’s room all day? “Maybe I can help.”
“No.” Fedya promptly shook his head. “Not now, not with this. I don’t have time to watch over you.”
FAIRYTALE Page 19