FAIRYTALE

by Rodriguez, Rebeccah

  His voice had a strange quality to it. Rough. Strangled. Killian hesitated. “You know that’s not true.”

  Fedya scoffed and shook his head. But he couldn’t hide his sudden rapid blinking as he continued down the path. “You’re exactly right. Yes, you know everything. We all love Eskor so much, that’s why my own brother is willing to do just about anything to get away from it.”

  Killian’s shoulders tensed. He swallowed hard. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing.”

  Fedya bowed his head and walked even faster. Goosebumps ran along Killian’s spine, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. “What happened? Why do you think Dmitri wants to get away from here?”

  Again, Fedya didn’t answer. A lump lodged in Killian’s throat and he reached for Fedya’s arm. “Maybe it’s not what you think.”

  “It’s exactly what I think, Killian! Because he just told me!” Fedya tore from Killian’s hand, spinning around to face him. “After our parents died, Dmitri promised me he wouldn’t leave too, that we would be together. But now...” He paused, inhaling sharply, as though he were trying to pull everything back inside. “He’s not marrying Empress Merav anymore. He’s moving to Astrocia, to be with that prince.”

  Killian froze.

  Dmitri had listened to him. He was going to Astrocia. To home. Killian’s heart ached in longing. He was going to change all of this; Fedya just didn’t know it yet.

  “There’s something I have to tell you.” He almost stopped, but he forced the words out. “You were right, I’m not from here. But it’s even more than that. I think I was brought here for a reason.”

  Suddenly Fedya’s eyes flicked past him and widened. “I have to go.”

  He whisked off down the path, leaving Killian standing alone in place. “What?” He glanced over his shoulder and hissed. “Damn it.”

  The familiar black coats of the Shielders filtered out the side door of the throne room. One of them pointed at Fedya and the group started after him. Killian looked back at Fedya, but he had already almost reached the stables.

  “Hey, wait!”

  Killian kicked up snow as he ran, and as the scent of hay and leather reached his nose, Fedya too broke into a sprint. They crossed through the stable to the garage, ducking behind a vehicle. Seconds later, the sound of half a dozen pairs of boots rushed inside, the heavy thudding overwhelming Killian’s sudden ragged breathing.

  They huddled face to face, knees nearly touching. Fedya straightened up, peeking through the windows, and quickly ducked down again. “They’re blocking the doors,” he whispered.

  “Hold on.” Killian tried to catch his breath. “They probably just want to take you back to Dmitri. They can’t actually hurt you, can they?”

  “No. I’m not going back.”

  Fedya reached up and opened the door to the automobile. It swung open with a squeal and the guards spun around. Fedya leapt inside and Killian scrambled to his feet, rushing to the open window. “What are you doing!”

  The guards rushed in. Fedya didn’t answer, desperately searching his pockets for a key. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

  “You can’t just leave.” Killian leaned in and grabbed the steering wheel. “Think about this.”

  The moment his fingers touched the wheel, the engine rumbled to life. Fedya’s eyes flashed wide and Killian jerked back, his heart leaping to his throat. He stared at his hand then up at Fedya.

  “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

  A shrill whistle pierced the air and Fedya grabbed the wheel, slamming his foot down on the pedal. The automobile lurched back and Fedya looked back at Killian. “Get in.”

  Killian’s heart raced, but his whole body quivered with excitement. He couldn’t just let Fedya leave. But the way Fedya stared at him now, so intense and pure. He couldn’t argue. He ran to the other side of the vehicle, yanking open the door, and practically leapt inside. The door hardly banged shut before Fedya slammed on the pedal again, the engine thundering, and they peeled forward.

  The Shielders narrowly dodged, sprinting to the other vehicles as they shot out of the garage, onto the icy road outside. Killian twisted in his seat, trying to catch a final glimpse of them, but they were already out of sight as Fedya swerved them away from the palace, back toward the city. Stray chickens cackled as they scattered out of the way, kicking up snow in their wake. A horn blared as they darted into the main street.

  “What are you doing?” Killian gasped.

  Fedya didn’t respond, knuckles white on the wheel, eyes bright. They barreled down the road. In a flash of panic, Killian remembered the crowds of people, milling about by the shops. But when he looked out the window, everyone was gone. No more children running around, no more tolling bells.

  There were still whistles, though. And a horn.

  A second vehicle screeched and pulled up behind them, filled with four Shielders. Its headlights flashed as it picked up speed. Fedya rounded a corner so fast Killian was knocked back into his seat. The buildings blurred past them until they were nothing more than smears of bright color.

  Fedya laughed. Loud and clear, ringing in Killian’s mind like a bell. He’d never heard anything quite like it before.

  They turned around another corner, and Killian saw the fountain. It looked far bigger than he remembered; a grand, magnificent thing with sculptures of maidens pouring water from jugs into the mouths of their thirsty oxen. It wasn’t far off, and Killian reached out, grabbing Fedya’s hand and squeezing tight. Fedya squeezed back.

  For a moment time seemed to slow down, and the automobile practically shook, as though it too jittered with nerves. Fedya turned and looked straight at Killian. His eyes were bright, his mouth turned up in a smile that made Killian’s heart ache. He had never seen Fedya look so happy.

  “Fedya.” Killian’s whole body shook. “What are you doing?”

  Fedya didn’t answer. Killian reached for the wheel, but it burned his hands, scorching hot. He tore away and Fedya laughed. Then he slammed on the gas pedal. They careened forward at an impossible speed. Killian barely had time to look forward before they hit the fountain, and everything exploded into white.

  A

  t first Killian only saw snow. Slowly he sat up, and a grinding ache shot up his spine and he groaned.

  “Fedya?” he grunted, trying to squint through all of the white. “Are you alright?”

  A howl of sharp wind answered him, and he wiped the snowflakes from his eyes. His vision began to settle. The narrow streets and tall buildings of Eskor were gone. Instead, he was sitting in the middle of an empty field. Then he saw the towers of the mansion jutting into the sky. Only they didn’t swirl with golds and reds, and there were no mirrors as shiny as crystal. Everything was gray and stone, and Killian knew that he was back.

  With another groan, he dragged himself to his feet. His entire body tingled in protest, shocks of electricity sizzling down his arms and legs. His forehead began to throb.

  “No…” The wind instantly stole his voice away. He clenched his eyes, voice rising. “No, no, no!”

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

  “I was going to save him!”

  He pounded his fist into his forehead, screaming into the unforgiving frost. This was all wrong. Why did it take him back here to now, when it was too late to even do any good? What was the point? He was going to change it all, he knew how to now. He could talk to his mother, extend peace negotiations to Eskor without the need for marriage, change everything before it even started. He’d never take that rose from the fairy. He could have fixed it all.

  But none of it mattered. Dmitri was still dead. And he and Fedya were still trapped.

  The moon hung high in the middle of the sky, almost a perfect crescent and as pink as lamb’s blood. Heart thudding in his ears, Killian looked around. The iron fence was only a few paces behind him and
the trail winding down to Fedya’s garden plucked up from the snow off to his left, but Fedya was nowhere in sight. Tightening his coat, he started toward the mansion.

  A flash of bended light caught his eye just ahead. Frowning, Killian walked over to it and kneeled, picking carefully through the ice. Shards of splintered glass, pink and green, clinked together. He recognized one, shaped like a rose petal.

  He looked back up at the manor, and though it was still far off, he spotted the perfectly round window high up on the west tower. It was completely smashed in, a gaping hole of blackness, the stained glass rose completely gone.

  Killian looked back down at the broken glass. He reached for a piece, when the screeching of tires against stone erupted in his ears. Killian halted, eyes wide. The automobile horns blared, the men barking orders, and above it all the light sound of Fedya’s laughter. Killian curled his fingers back in. Fedya’s laughter.

  But the sound faded quickly, and Killian was all alone. He hurried even faster toward the manor. As he neared, a soft mist settled around him. Despite the darkened skies, he didn’t shiver as usual. The crunch of the snow beneath his boots sounded oddly comforting.

  He stopped when he saw the fence.

  A large tree had fallen over during the storm, smashed into a side of the fence, its gnarled branches scraping the snow. The metal bars twisted and bent to the side, encircling the tree trunk like a broken ribcage. Killian peered in close, gingerly stepping around the fallen branches as he inspected the wrenched-open metal.

  He’d seen metal like that before, misshapen and distorted. Only back then it was surrounded by shattered glass, torn clothing. He saw the chandelier, Dmitri’s mangled body, trapped beneath it. He remembered the pool of blood. With a sharp breath, Killian pulled away and hurried the rest of the way back to the mansion.

  The lights were still off inside, the front entryway swathed in a sheen of hazy gray. His footsteps echoed as he walked, louder than they should have. Killian’s arms prickled, and he shivered as he stopped in the middle of the foyer. It all felt bigger somehow, the walls stretching up further than he could see.

  Somewhere, a door creaked. Killian twitched, jerked his head, then saw the soft golden light glowing. A door had opened, the gentle notes of a piano dancing out. Killian’s breath hitched.

  “Fedya?”

  An enormous ballroom glittered inside. Killian gasped.

  It was larger than any room he’d ever seen, the walls made up of pillars of mist and crystal, reaching up to a ceiling of clouds and pure white, impossible to see where they ended. The shimmering gleam of the chandelier left everything sparkling with a delicate shade of gold dust. The glassy floor reflected the light, sending beams of starlight twinkling throughout the room.

  The door fell away from him and he stepped further inside, as if an invisible thread were gently tugging him toward the center of the room. An alabaster grand piano emerged to his right, the gentle aria sweeping around him until the bells chimed in and carried him along.

  Soft voices picked up, and through the crystal walls he saw the twirl of pale pink and white ballgowns, the wink of gold and silver, and Killian recognized the Silver and Gold Ball. He almost laughed, unable to look away as the room was transformed into the mirror image of that night, and his heart ached with the familiarity of it all. He turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of their faces. Would he recognize one of them? Would they look his way, even for just a second? He trailed alongside the wall, yearning for their attention, when a second figure up ahead caught his eye. He stopped.

  Fedya stood on the opposite end of the room. He stared at Killian, apprehension clouding his features, but it did little to mar the perfect beauty he exuded. Donned in a suit that looked spun from silver and a crown made of halos, Fedya was entirely human, but he didn’t even seem to know it.

  Warmth flooded Killian’s chest, and he broke into a wide grin. He started toward Fedya, heart suddenly racing, and he didn’t care as Fedya’s cheeks grew pink in retaliation. He only smiled wider, walked faster. Fedya’s brown eyes were warm and bright, unblinking as he trapped Killian in his gaze. The apprehension deepened, and Killian reached for his hand.

  Fedya flinched as their fingers twined, as though he were shocked Killian was real. His palm was warm and solid and real. Fedya trembled against him, and Killian drew him in.

  Fedya hesitated. “I’m afraid,” he whispered.

  Killian leaned down until their foreheads brushed together and he could feel Fedya’s breath against his neck. “Trust me.”

  The piano picked up, louder this time, and slowly, carefully, Killian placed his other hand against Fedya’s chest. He could feel his heart, quick, strong. His lips still twitched, and carefully he pulled Fedya along with him as he fell in time with the music, drifting into a slow, steady waltz. Fedya followed after, pulled into his embrace and falling into step. The mirrored walls reflected with the twirling figures of dancers, but they were all alone, drifting across the silky ballroom floor.

  This time Fedya didn’t pull away. He didn’t pause or hold back. He only tightened his grip and inhaled sharply, his body quivering as he followed Killian’s lead. The violins picked up, and they danced.

  One by one the lights of the chandelier twinkled to life, until they waltzed atop a sky of stars. The walls fell away, and it was only them. Killian pulled Fedya in closer, wanting to feel his heart beat against his own, but the soft whisper of Fedya’s lips brushed against his mouth instead.

  A warm rush flooded his body. His chest trembled, and his legs slowed down. The clock stopped ticking. He pulled Fedya closer, deeper, and their mouths merged into one, hot and deep. Fedya didn’t resist, and Killian’s hands slid down his shoulders, his arms, his chest. He stopped.

  Fedya pulled his head back. Frowning, Killian stared at him, then slowly he looked down at his hand. His fingers were coated in red.

  Killian’s eyes widened. “You’re hurt.”

  All at once the walls returned. The ceiling and floor too, and in a blur the manor reappeared. Killian didn’t recognize any of it. Fedya took a step back, and almost wavered, eyes lost. He looked down at his chest where a deep stain of scarlet began to bloom. He sucked in a tight breath. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine.” Killian reached out, grabbing Fedya’s shoulder. “What happened?”

  Fedya jerked away, but he staggered. “You stabbed me.”

  Icy shock pressed against Killian’s flesh. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t respond, staring down at the blood slick on his fingertips. It dribbled down to his palm and he clenched his jaw. He saw the gash on his palm, freshly healed over, and he remembered the broken shard of glass, the looming creature lunging in the dark.

  Killian’s head spun. “But you…”

  He remembered the flash of lightning, illuminating the creature. Not a monster, but Fedya. Reaching for him in the dark. The growling, the attack, none of it real. All of it a vision in his own mind, until he’d picked up the glass and transformed fear into reality.

  Without another word he grabbed Fedya’s hand. It was cold and stiff. He started walking, fast, leaving the ballroom behind. But the clouds and music lingered, fogging his mind, and the manor shifted and writhed all around him, changing with every step. He pushed open the doors and didn’t slow down, even as the floor shook and rattled.

  “Killian, wait.”

  He glanced back and halted. Fedya gasped for breath, his free hand clutching the wound. He looked exhausted. Worn out. An electrifying prickle tickled the back of Killian’s neck. Fedya looked strange.

  He didn’t keep walking. The walls closed in around them, stretching and pulling, and it suddenly felt like he was seeing the magic up close, watching the true secrets behind the manor’s ever-changing rooms. At last it slowed, and they stood in a small room, already warm from the fire. Jewel-toned tapestries covered the walls, and Killian recognized the images weaved into them. Eskor.

&n
bsp; Killian drew Fedya over to the fireplace. “Sit down.”

  Wincing, Fedya eased onto a small, tufted stool. Killian crouched in front of him, eyeing the wound as he carefully peeled back Fedya’s jacket and vest. Fedya flinched again the moment Killian touched bare flesh.

  “Sorry.” Killian looked up, instantly trapped in Fedya’s stare. He swallowed, reaching for Fedya’s shirt again. “I’ll be careful.”

  Tenderly, Killian pulled away the rest of the fabric. The wound had stopped bleeding, and as he used the sleeve of his shirt to dab away the dried blood, he found it wasn’t as deep as it looked. Fedya stared into the fire as Killian worked, his jaw visibly clenching in the low light. Killian kept his touches light, until the last of the blood was wiped away and he looked around. “I need to find some water or something to bandage it up.”

  “You’ve done enough.”

  Fedya’s voice was hushed, but his words hung between them like a web. Killian looked up at him, his tired, drained eyes, and it all clicked. Fedya wasn’t tired. He wasn’t old or even injured badly. He was cursed. It drained his life, stole the color from his flesh and the spark in his voice. His hair was duller, his movements strained and stiff. Though he looked completely human, something was missing. Something wasn’t quite right.

  Killian’s throat constricted. He glanced out the window and the stars reflected pale pink off the glow of the moon. The Pink Moon was almost full. He had been gone for almost a week. The curse was almost complete.

  Without a word, Fedya picked up his old shirt and began tearing it into thin strips before winding it around his shoulder and chest. Killian bit his tongue and forced himself to look away.

  He stared at the tapestries on the walls, those familiar swirling domes of the palace, the glittering glass windows and even the puffs of smoke, milling out from the steam trains. They covered every inch of the wall, practically beckoning him to step inside them and take him back. He looked down. Even the stool Fedya sat on looked like the longue Killian had slept on in the palace. The piano in the corner an exact replica of the one in Fedya’s music room.