As he spoke, Fedya’s eyebrows lifted, his expression shifting. Confusion. Panic. For a moment a flicker crossed over his eyes, too swift for Killian to really name it, and when he finished speaking, Fedya stayed quiet. It didn’t last long. Slowly Fedya shook his head, and the anger returned, bright and sharp.
“Did you ever think that maybe I’m not the problem? If I’m always, as you say, ‘running away’ from you, perhaps there’s a reason for it.” Fedya started walking back, burying his hands in his pockets. “Maybe you’re the one who’s meant to be alone. Stop ruining other people’s lives and accept it.”
He turned away and started walking again, and before Killian could call out again, he disappeared in a cloud of gray smoke.
K
illian waited on the train platform, watching the crowds arrive. They were all there for Dmitri, eagerly anticipating his coronation, and soon there would be an engagement as well. Only this time it was to the Empress of Bruai Shia.
No one looked at Killian as they shuffled and hurried past. Just another face, another stranger. They looked at him like they did to Fedya, with nothingness. Soon their faces blurred together, each identical to the last, a sea of eyes and mouths. He watched the trains take off again and he wondered where they went. Did any of them go to Astrocia? Could one of them take him back home?
Fedya’s final words repeated themselves in his head, thundering against his skull, pounding deeper and deeper.
Maybe you’re the one meant to be alone. Stop ruining other people’s lives and accept it.
Maybe that was the whole point. Maybe he was supposed to keep out of the way. After all, if Dmitri wasn’t marrying him, he never would have made that wish, and none of this would have ever happened. Maybe that’s what he was supposed to get out of this. To watch and leave them all alone, just like Fedya asked for.
A loud bell cracked through the air, and Killian looked up. The sun was in the middle of the sky. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Every time he tried to help, it only pushed Fedya even further away. Now Fedya was even angrier than before.
Killian’s heart ached, but he stood up. He didn’t belong here.
It was easy to get back inside the palace. Once he shed his black coat, his uniform blended in with the rest of the staff milling around in heightened panic. He grabbed a vase, ducking his head behind a bouquet of purple flowers, and kept to the walls as he walked, but he needn’t have bothered, as no one spared him a second glance. Still, it was nice to have a shield, blocking out the world for a while.
As he neared the familiar halls that led to Fedya’s bedroom the servants began to thin out, and by the time he reached the door, he was the only one there. He set the vase down and grabbed the knob, but couldn’t turn it. Would Fedya be on the other side?
He glanced down the hall and remembered the white rabbit. Some good luck that turned out to be.
Fedya’s bedroom was completely empty. A mixture of regret and relief flooded Killian’s chest, and he moved quickly, gathering up his old clothing and shoes from the chaise. He paused, looking up through the drawn open windows out to the courtyard. The glass was frosted over, but he could just see a few hazy figures on the other side. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned back to the door.
“What are you doing here?”
Killian whipped around. “Dmitri!” He sputtered over his words and gave a haphazard bow. “Your Majesty!”
Dmitri frowned, eyeing Killian with caution as he stepped further inside the room. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the gardens with the other attendants?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Killian nodded, reaching back for the doorknob. “I was just on my way.”
“Wait, where did you get that?”
Killian froze, glancing around. Dmitri stomped forward, jabbing a finger at Killian’s chest. “That! Where did you get that necklace?”
The thin silver chain had fallen out from Killian’s shirt when he’d bowed, the small snowflake charm winking up at them. Killian picked it up, resting the charm in his palm. “Oh…this?”
“Who are you?” Dmitri said, voice tight, and for a second Killian was certain he’d rip the necklace clean off him. But Dmitri curled his fingers in at the last minute, holding himself back. “Tell me the truth this time, because I know you’re not really some orphan he met in the city looking for work.”
“Actually, I am.” Orphan. Was that what he was now? “Does Fedya have a habit of bringing home random people he meets on the street?”
Dmitri shot Killian a dirty look, but he didn’t answer and only pressed his lips tightly together, crossing his arms across his chest. Killian’s cheeks burned, and he hurriedly pulled the necklace off his neck. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to steal anything.”
He quickly handed it over and Dmitri nearly snatched it away. The heat rose higher, thumping in Killian’s temples as he watched Dmitri look back down to the necklace. But as Dmitri looked down at the necklace, his expression strangely softened, and he gently turned the charm over in his palm.
Killian hesitated, backing up another step to the door. Still he wavered, watching Dmitri and wanting to know more. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a snowflake so intricately carved before.”
“It’s a flower.”
“Oh.”
Killian tried not to fidget, but then Dmitri glanced up at him, studying him, and his fingers curled back around the chain. “Fyodor gave this to you?”
“I…I think so?” Killian tried not to fiddle with his hands. Never before had he ever felt quite so nervous in front of another royal. Maybe it was because he wasn’t a royal anymore. Here, he was just Killian. “I found it in my pocket when I was getting dressed earlier.”
Dmitri’s expression didn’t change. But then he placed the necklace in his pocket, straightened up, and nodded at the door. “You’re leaving now, aren’t you? For good, I mean.”
Though Dmitri’s voice held no hint of accusation, his words plunged white-hot into Killian’s heart. This was exactly what Dmitri had said he would do. Leave Fedya behind, and Killian…how badly he wanted to promise he wouldn’t go, that he’d never abandon Fedya. Could so much change in just a few hours? Killian tried to speak, his throat suddenly raw. “Things are different than I thought.”
He could barely look Dmitri in the eye. How to explain this wasn’t his world, or that he was never meant to be here to begin with? But Dmitri didn’t even move, and his patience was excruciating.
“Did you say goodbye to him?”
Killian flinched. He opened his mouth but no words came out, and Dmitri sighed. Killian’s heart sank even further.
“It’s alright,” Dmitri said as he took a step back and sat down on the chaise. “I had hoped you would, but I understand why you didn’t.”
Killian shook his head. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Look, I know my brother has his struggles and he can be difficult,” Dmitri started, but as he caught Killian’s gaze, he stopped. His entire body stiffened, as though he realized who he was talking to, and he straightened up a bit taller and nodded to the door. “I think it’s best that you go now.”
“But.”
The words tangled in Killian’s mouth. He tried to swallow them away and bile threatened to rise to his throat. He managed a numb nod and turned back to the door, still feeling Dmitri’s eyes staring into his back. He was going to leave, just like everyone else did. Was that why he was brought here? A lesson to leave everyone alone?
He stopped as he turned the knob. “Congratulations.” His voice sounded distant. Strange. “On the engagement, I mean.”
“My what?”
“To the Empress of Bruai Shia. I know it’s private, but Fyodor told me about her. I think because he’s excited.” He tried to smile, but it felt forced on his lips and it quickly faded away. He cleared his throat instead. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”
Dmitri remained silent
at first, but his eyes easily betrayed him. Killian recognized that look; he’d seen it on Dmitri’s face before, a deep longing no amount of royal training could disguise. Pure desire. And sadness. Dmitri sighed. “Well, it looks like there’s not much to tell.”
Killian stiffened and tried not to frown. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not…” Dmitri paused. He flicked his eyes to the side. “Please go.”
“You’re not marrying the empress?”
Dmitri sucked in a tight breath. He blinked once, twice, visibly forcing the pain away, and he straightened up. “No.”
Killian turned back around, his heart skipping a beat. “Why not?”
“Politics.”
That single word rang in Killian’s ears. Dmitri spat it out like a shield, but all it did was expose his vulnerabilities. He was going to lose her, Merav, the woman he loved, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
An idea flickered across Killian’s thoughts. Goosebumps rose along his arms and his mouth went dry. Of course. That was it. That was why he was here. He tried to keep his voice from shaking, but the rising excitement nearly constricted his throat. “Listen, I know this is none of my business—”
“You are correct. This is of absolutely no concern to you.”
“—but would you reconsider the prince?”
Confusion tugged Dmitri’s brows. “What prince?”
“Uh…” Killian’s mind raced. “Fyodor mentioned there was a prince you had considered marrying. I think from Astrocia?”
“Oh. You mean Prince Killian.”
“Right, Prince Killian.” He nodded eagerly, trying to keep from talking too fast. “Astrocia’s a big country, and marrying someone with such popularity and power would be a big help in easing the fears of your people, don’t you think? Especially during such times of uncertainty and grief.”
Dmitri raised an eyebrow, and Killian fumbled with his words. “Or something like that.”
But Dmitri didn’t wave him off like before, and a flicker of hope sparked in Killian’s veins. Until Dmitri shook his head and sighed. “No. My parents and I have tried to negotiate with Astrocia’s queen for months already and have never been able to reach agreeable terms.”
Killian’s stomach tightened. What negotiations? Why hadn’t Maman ever told him? Was he really so unaware of what was going on with his own life?
“But the reality of the situation is I can’t leave Fyodor behind,” Dmitri continued, and he stood up, crossing his arms as he wandered over to the window, staring through the frosted glass. “He’s self-destructive, and if I were to live the better part of a year in Astrocia as the queen demands, I fear the worst for him.”
Dmitri’s reflection stared blankly out, and his shoulders sagged, tired. “Perhaps it’s foolish of me, putting the welfare of a single person over that of my country, but I can’t abandon him now. He’s my brother.”
Killian stared, numb. That was what it always came down to, abandoning Fedya. Leaving him behind, alone. But it didn’t have to be that way, not again. Killian licked his lips, trying again. “Try talking with her again, the queen. She can be persuaded.”
“She won’t. She’s made it clear she won’t let her son leave her.”
“Then bring Fyodor with you. Take him to Astrocia, do whatever you have to, but you know that an alliance is the right thing to do. It’s going to make your country stronger. Think of the comfort it will give your people, and Fyodor.”
It all made sense now, what all of this was for. A chance to save Dmitri. To save Fedya. He couldn’t change Dmitri’s marriage with the empress, but maybe he could change everything else. Dmitri didn’t have to die.
Slowly Dmitri pulled his gaze from the glass, turning back to face Killian. Curiosity flickered in his eyes, and he searched Killian, as though the answers were somehow written all over him. “You aren’t from Eskor, are you?”
Killian stopped short. His temples continued to pound and he shook his head. “No. But I’m on my way back home.”
Dmitri stood still, quiet. Killian searched his eyes, his mouth, anything, but whether his words had any effect was impossible to tell. At last Dmitri walked over to the door, reaching past Killian to open it. “If you see my brother, please tell him I was looking for him.”
“Of course,” Killian said, nodding.
Dmitri stepped out into the hall, but then stopped, glancing back a final time at Killian. He opened his mouth, paused, then started over. “You should come to the coronation tonight.”
The throne room smelled of candles and perfume. The crowd was packed in tight, throngs of even more people waiting outside, eagerly clutching bells and banners. But inside, everything was quiet, all eyes on the two gilded thrones set atop a gleaming platform.
Killian didn’t stand with the other servants, but right up at the front of the crowds where Dmitri had instructed. The din of bells floated in from outside, but otherwise no one spoke a word, leaning in just so, eager to catch a glimpse.
Fedya walked in first. He wore a suit similar to that of the day before, primped to perfection, his hair coiffed in tight, precise buns. But today he wore no crown, his only adornment a red jewel hanging from his neck. His face was hard and focused, but his eyes were rimmed in red. He stood directly next to the left throne, and stared blankly out at the people. At first Killian wasn’t sure Fedya saw him, but then their eyes met. Fedya’s expression didn’t change.
A moment later an old man in a long, violet robe walked on, a thick scroll tucked under his arm. The crowd held its breath as he shuffled onto the platform, and stood almost entirely in front of Fedya. His thick fingers unraveled the scroll, and he looked down his nose to read.
“I present to you, Duke Fyodor, son of Czar Andrei and Czarina Izabella, on this holy day, the seventh of early spring. Please lift your heads and open your hands during this time of great change and have courage and faith in the duties of the crown. After a time of much mourning, today is a day of celebration and rebirth.”
He folded the scroll back up, and still no one moved. Without another word, the man took a step back and turned to Fedya, offering the scroll to him. Fedya reached out, but the moment he grasped for it, the scroll slipped through his fingers. The golden dowels slammed to the floor with a loud crack.
Fedya froze as the sound echoed in the room. The woman next to Killian flinched and the elderly man on the platform sucked in a breath. Fedya snatched the scroll back up, but his cheeks already burned bright red. He straightened up and sucked in a deep breath, unraveling the scroll in front of him. The parchment fluttered in the air, Fedya’s hands visibly shaking.
He cleared his throat loudly and opened his mouth, but no words came. Instead, he sucked in an even breath, and his eyes flicked up, staring out at the crowd. Killian dug his nails into his palms, fighting the urge to step up on the platform and help him. This wasn’t like last time. Dmitri couldn’t save him now.
Fedya took one final sweep up the room, then rolled the scroll back up.
“Thank you for coming.”
Without another word Fedya turned, handed the scroll back to the old man, and walked off the platform. A murmur broke through the audience, the old man looking around in a wild-eyed panic as Fedya swiftly made his way out of the room.
“Uh, your Grace?” the old man called out weakly. “Duke Fyodor?”
Fedya didn’t look back. The murmur grew to a rapid frenzy. Killian turned around, ducking his head as he tried to wriggle his way out. He called Fedya’s name, but his voice was quickly swallowed up in the din of alarmed voices and the old man desperate to hush them all. He managed to pop out of the room, only to be consumed by the crowd outside. Fortunately no one noticed him, lost in confusion over the happenings inside. Fedya wouldn’t come out here, not with all these people. But where would he go?
Keeping to the edges, Killian wriggled out the rest of the way. But he needn’t have bothered being d
iscreet. Less than a minute later a loud bell rang out, and the crowd outside erupted into excited cheers. Dmitri must have finally stepped out.
Killian followed the wall of the building, heading around to the back, and he stopped. Fedya hadn’t made it far. He stood perfectly still, eyes closed, head tilted back. Killian almost didn’t want to disturb him.
“They’re missing you in there.”
Fedya’s eyes flashed back open, but he didn’t seem surprised when he saw Killian. He glanced back where he came, rubbing his temples. “I don’t think anyone ever misses me. They’ll just be happier to see Dmitri that much sooner.”
Killian closed the distance between them. “At least they’ll remember you this time.”
He wanted Fedya to smile again. Just for a second. But instead Fedya only stared at him, the frigid wind picking up, turning his cheeks pink. “Why are you still here?”
Killian bit his tongue, and he shifted from one leg to the other. “I wasn’t ready to go yet. I...I want to be around you.”
“Right,” Fedya said, and rolled his eyes. “I’m certain your sudden appearance has absolutely nothing to do with my brother’s coronation.”
He started walking away, and Killian quickly followed after him. “It’s not,” he said firmly, but Fedya didn’t slow down. “It’s because of you, Fedya.”
“Why do you insist on calling me that?” Fedya snapped. “You realize I could have you arrested for such constant disrespect.”
Killian clenched his jaw tighter, not sure how to respond. But then Fedya rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to stick around here any longer than you have to, especially not because of me.”
Killian frowned. “You don’t mean that. This is your home. You love Eskor.”
They were close to the stables now, nearing a footpath equally covered in snow. Fedya stopped when he reached it. His lips had grown chapped, the tips of his ears bright red, but he didn’t shiver. Instead he looked straight at Killian, his teeth set on edge. “I might as well be the only one.”
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