FAIRYTALE

by Rodriguez, Rebeccah

  Killian frowned. “She’s still hosting meetings?”

  “Of course she is. With everything that’s happened, it’s more important than ever that she stand her ground. People are scared, and this whole situation is already causing a lot of tension.”

  “I suppose,” Killian said, brows still furrowed, “I just assumed all those meetings and things weren’t important right now.”

  To Killian’s surprise, Melchior scoffed and stood up from the bed. “The world doesn’t stop turning because of tragedy, Killian. It only makes it spin faster. You can’t just stop in the middle of it, or you’ll miss out.”

  “Miss out?” A surge of anger flooded Killian’s chest, and for a moment he forgot the pain and exhaustion. He sat up straight, plunking his teacup on the side table, and shoved the blankets to the floor. His forehead thundered in agony. “Miss out on what? On choosing my own life?”

  He grimaced as he swung his legs to the side, struggling to stand. But he didn’t care. He was out of breath, but he didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or anger.

  “I didn’t miss out on any of those things, they were taken from me, just like they were taken from Dmitri,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “We were forced into something neither of us wanted, and look what happened. At least I tried to do something about it.”

  “Right, right.” Melchior nodded, sounding so irritatingly dismissive that Killian wanted to punch him. “I suppose some things really will never change.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Melchior tilted his head, studying Killian as though he were some sort of two-headed specimen. “Has it occurred to you, even once through all of this, that perhaps this whole thing isn’t about you? That maybe who you really should be focusing on is Fedya?”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time?” Killian growled. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he puffed out his chest anyway, gripping the frame. “I gave up everything to go after him. I could have died, Melchior, I was even attacked by a Grimbeast. What else do you want from me?”

  “Killian.” Melchior sighed and calmly stood up. He gently set his teacup on the nightstand beside Killian’s, then looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve known you for a long time, and you’re my best friend. I care a lot about you, and I want you to be happy. But grow up.”

  Killian stopped. “What?”

  “Sure, you tried to change things. But at what cost?”

  “That’s not fair. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “You tried to use magic,” Melchior snapped. “You were hoping for an easy fix, just like you always do. You tried to run away from this relationship just like you did to ours three years ago.”

  Killian bit his tongue. “That was different.”

  “Did you even give Dmitri a chance? Did you even know the first thing about him? Or did you do what you always do, and just took him at face value and decided nothing was worth fighting for?”

  A hard lump lodged in Killian’s throat. He didn’t answer, and with another sigh, Melchior stepped over to him. He took Killian’s hand, and gave a momentary squeeze.

  “I know you were scared,” Melchior continued, his voice softer now, “but you have got to learn to look outside yourself. You weren’t the only one affected by your marriage. It wasn’t just Dmitri either, it was everyone. Your families, your countries. They need you to be a leader.”

  Killian faltered. He wanted to look away. “I’m trying.”

  “I know you are. But sometimes you forget what that actually means. You’re always saying you want to see the world, but did you ever stop to think about why? It’s people that make the world, so take a second to remember them. And if you want something to change, you need to make it happen yourself, otherwise you’re never going to understand anything.”

  Killian’s hand slipped away, dropping back to his side as he could no longer meet Melchior’s gaze. The anger was gone, replaced by a shameful warmth creeping up from the back of his neck.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sat back down on the bed, still staring at the floor. Melchior was right. And Fedya too. They all were. Would he have even followed Fedya out into the woods if it were not for his feelings for him? His stomach tightened, and he looked back up at Melchior. “I didn’t mean to cause all of this.”

  To his surprise, Melchior laughed. “There you go again. It’s done, Killian, and dwelling on the past isn’t going to fix anything. Just focus on what can still be changed.”

  It was good to hear him laugh again, even if only for a moment. But then his tone shifted, and he was neither happy nor annoyed. Instead, his voice was solemn. “So, how is he?”

  Killian couldn’t answer. The heat flared to his cheeks and he tried to clear his throat, but the words still got stuck. It had been easier not to think about him, but that realization was like a dagger twisting in the pit of his stomach. He just shook his head, and mustered out a strained, “Not good.”

  Melchior nodded, but he didn’t press further. Killian was glad he didn’t. Adjusting his glasses, he walked over to the door. “You need to rest. I don’t know how long they’ll keep you here, but perhaps they’ll allow you a short walk to hear the announcement tonight.”

  “Announcement?” Killian wracked his memory, but it was all fluff and fuzz.

  A sly grin spread across Melchior’s lips as he reached for the doorknob. “You’re not the only one whose life has been turned inside out. Just try to rest a bit more and let the healers do their job. I hope to see you tonight, I want you there.”

  With a final wave, Melchior vanished out the door, taking the last of his goodwill with him. Killian stared out, unblinking, trying to beckon Melchior to come back for just a moment longer. But he was gone and there was nothing left but an empty room and the rapidly fading sunlight.

  Killian looked back at the bedside table where he’d thumped down his teacup. Half of the liquid pooled on the table, and he didn’t remember when it had spilled. His fingers twitched in his lap, his limbs tingling, shoulder sore and aching. No one else came in. Not Annette nor Merav. Not a healer. The room fell into a wash of gray. Sucking in a sharp breath, Killian threw back the rest of the blankets, snatched up the mirror, and stood up. His whole body quivered, but he walked to the door anyway.

  Melchior wanted him to grow up. Change. Then that was exactly what he was going to do. Fedya needed his help. And he needed it now.

  T

  he lack of music and laughter in the halls was eerie, the castle a mere shadow of what it had been just a few short weeks ago. Every muted footstep echoed around him, a hollow reminder of the life that once filled it. Now there was only the perfectly polished marble floor and looming columns, everything clean, not even a hint of the blood that had once gathered beneath its domed ceiling, or the lives that had ended there.

  Killian tried to ignore where the Grimbeast had pierced his flesh, but his gait felt uneven, and he tucked his arm close to his chest. He walked lightly, but strangely there was no one around to stop him as he made his way to his private room. It felt strange stepping inside. Nothing had been moved since the day he had left, his suitcases still open, the clothes rumpled. Not even the bed had been made.

  Swiftly he changed out of the infirmary clothes and into a fresh suit. He moved stiffly as he dressed, but he tried not to think, moving on command. The cold air was stale, and he quickly built a fire in the fireplace. The warmth felt good against his bandaged shoulder, and he looked over to the balcony windows. Night was rapidly taking over, and Fedya was waiting for him.

  The bedroom door creaked open behind him, followed by a swish of fabric. Killian didn’t look away from the crackling flames and smiled. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to find me.”

  The door clicked shut, followed by footsteps. “Does that mean you were hiding from me?”

  His grin widened, and he looked over his shoulder. “Never.�
�

  Annette’s pale skin was nearly overcome by the flickering shadows of the firelight, but even the darkness couldn’t conceal the reflection of her crystal-colored eyes. She looked as prim and pretty as ever—not a ringlet out of place, her gown without a single crinkle.

  For a moment she stood perfectly still in the doorway, as though she were holding her breath. Then Killian took a step forward, and all at once a sob tore from her throat. She rushed at him so fast she nearly spilled the tea in the cup she carried, but Killian didn’t care. He pulled her in close and she buried her face into his neck.

  “I was afraid I would never see you again.”

  Annette’s whispering voice soothed against his ear, and Killian hadn’t realized just how much he had missed it. Her eyelashes were wet against his skin.

  “I’d never leave you behind,” he said, squeezing her tight before allowing his arms to slowly fall away, sliding down her arms. “I just needed a little bit of time.”

  She nodded, and nearly hiccupped. But she quickly sucked in a breath and tilted her head up, forcing another shaky smile. “I missed you.”

  Killian wanted to stroke her cheek, pull her in again, but he knew Annette wouldn’t have it. She was already blinking furiously, trying to will away the last of her tears. Instead he only nodded, speaking softly. “I missed you too.”

  She cleared her throat loudly and then took his hand, pressing the teacup into his palm. His fingers instantly burned, and for a few seconds she didn’t pull away, their fingertips entwined. “I brought this for you.”

  He almost laughed. “I guess twins really do think alike.”

  Her shoulders fell. “Melchior already saw you? Why didn’t he tell me you were awake?”

  “It was only for a minute. And besides,” he raised the cup in a mock toast, “he was probably embarrassed by that swill he tried to offer me as tea.”

  He took a sip, and the smooth, warm liquid glided down his throat. It almost felt thick, and a hint of caramel lingered behind on his tongue. Annette watched him, her eyes sparking with intensity, and he made a show of taking another swallow. Her lips twitched. “You’re not leaving again, are you?”

  Killian hesitated, then sighed. “I have to.”

  She took a step back and he tried to reach for her again, but she avoided him. “I’m sorry, Annette, but Fedya still needs my help. He won’t trust anyone else, and he’s still out there. I really think I can bring him back, I just need a little more time.”

  Annette turned her head away from him, staring into the fire. Her lips were pulled into a tight line and her thin body began to shiver as she folded her arms tight across her chest. “I should have known you’d leave again.”

  He tried not to flinch. “It won’t be forever.”

  “Why don’t you ever want to stay with me?”

  “I do want to stay with you, believe me,” he said gently, “but I can’t just abandon Fedya now.”

  “Fedya?” Annette scoffed. “Who is that again? Oh right, the man who was once your future brother-in-law.”

  Killian fell quiet. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Do you even know him?” She rolled her eyes. “Or let me guess, you’re madly in love with a stranger you just met. What else is new?”

  Killian’s chest tightened and he clenched his teeth. “Why are you acting like this?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Her head was tilted as she stared at him, biting the inside of her lip. “It’s remarkable how little you care about other people,” she whispered.

  She stepped over to him. He didn’t know what he was expecting her to do, and there was no time to pull away before she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, her hands tenderly cupping his cheeks. Her kiss wasn’t forceful, yet he allowed her to finish, remaining still. Her lips were soft and her eyes closed, but Killian didn’t kiss back. It didn’t last long.

  She pulled away, her breath shuddering as she stared down at the floor. “So that’s it?”

  Killian gently took her hand, stroking her slender fingers against his own. “Annette,” he whispered, “I can’t.”

  He repressed a sigh. Annette tried so hard to never show weakness, always behind an iron mask of strength and dignity. She never faltered, never slipped from her carefully crafted image. At least, not to anyone else. But Killian had always seen the strain in her smile, the aching glint of doubt that shadowed her sapphire eyes. And now he was the cause of it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, gently brushing the loose strands of hair from his forehead. “You know, I almost thought you would be glad when Dmitri was killed. I know how much you didn’t want to be with him.”

  A sickening lump squirmed in the pit of Killian’s stomach. He tried to clear his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “I never wanted him to get hurt.”

  Annette paused. She stopped shaking, and her arms fell down to her sides as she straightened up. Then she lifted her head and looked Killian straight in the eye. “Then I guess I made a mistake.”

  The lump constricted, a surge of bile rising to Killian’s throat. “What are you talking about?”

  Annette walked back over to the fireplace, leaning in close until the flames lit up her face and her ivory skin reflected yellow. “Did you know that my husband is dying? We’ve visited every doctor and healer in the country, tried countless medications and antidotes, but they all say the same. It’s simply his time to go.”

  Killian winced. “I’m—”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s not exactly a surprise. He is almost seventy years old after all.” She gave a half shrug, but it did nothing to diminish the dreary sagging in her voice. “A man can’t live forever.”

  “I’m sorry,” Killian repeated lamely. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Annette fell quiet. An entire minute passed and still she remained in silence. Killian tried to take a step over to her, but wavered, his legs strangely heavy and the odd tugging at his temples burst into a steady pounding. Then Annette spun around, and snatched up his hands, squeezing tight as she looked him square in the eye.

  “You can marry me.”

  “What?” Killian jostled back. “Annette, I can’t marry you.”

  “Why not? Dmitri’s dead and his brother is even worse. You owe nothing more to his country or his people.”

  Killian looked down. Her slim fingers looked so frail against her own. She had lost so much weight after her marriage, and her rings practically slipped off them. But he squeezed her hands and raised them to his lips as he gave them a tender kiss. He felt her buckle, but he didn’t allow the kiss to linger.

  He shook his head. “It’s just not that easy. Fedya, he…he’s still alive.”

  “Fedya.”

  Her voice sounded empty, and he heard the familiar curl of hatred strangling her words. Her hands fell away, and she hugged herself tight as she stared back into the fire. He brushed against her arm, but she jerked away.

  “It will be okay,” he said carefully. “You won’t be alone after he’s gone. I’ll still be there for you, and Melchior and Cosette. We’ll help you get through this, and I know you’ll be able to take over.”

  She barked out a bitter laugh. “No, I won’t, Killian. That’s exactly what you don’t understand. The district of Tauvania is not like Astrocia. They don’t allow women to own land, not even a baroness.”

  Annette stopped abruptly, swallowing hard as her gaze flicked back over to Killian. “I even tried to get pregnant. With that…” she shuddered, “…that man. At least that way I could retain my power. But it was no use.”

  A swell of nausea rose up in the back of Killian’s throat. He tried to swallow it back, but his stomach revolted and he grasped the nearby sitting chair. Annette didn’t seem to notice, though she stared straight at him as she continued, her voice starting to rise.

  “Do you know what’s going to happen to me once he dies? Once I don’
t have a man around to hold my hand and sign my name on every piece of property that should be mine?” She laughed, hollow and vicious. “I’m going to be stripped of any power I might have had, and everything will go to the closest male relative. The manor, the servants. Everything.”

  Killian knew the baron had no living relatives. He had outlived his two brothers, and there were no cousins or children to speak of. Annette had been the last hope of producing an heir, and now there was only one person left.

  “It’s not fair.”

  Annette fell quiet. Tears glistened in her eyes, threatening to fall.

  “First Melchior falls in love with that ridiculous duchess, and now he’s going to have my home too.” Her voice cracked unexpectedly. “Why him? Isn’t it enough that he’s already a doctor? What more can he possibly want?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing more than a mangled wheeze came out. His chest constricted even more, and Annette just kept speaking.

  “I’ve worked just as hard as he has. All my life I knew I was capable of great things too.”

  “You are,” Killian croaked.

  Annette’s eyes flashed over to him, sharp. He wheezed and sat down as his legs teetered, close to giving out, and her lips began to curl. She stepped over to him and bent down, leaning in close. Killian couldn’t pull away, his head throbbing as Annette stared at him.

  “No, it won’t,” she said. “Not unless I make it happen. And that’s just what I did. I saw an opportunity for a new husband, one who would treat me like the queen I am, and I took it.”

  Killian frowned, trying to stop the raging storm in his skull. “Who?”

  Her grin widened, and she reached out, placing her hand on his clammy cheek. “You.”

  Her fingers burned against his flesh, and he wanted to shake her away, but his vision distorted and bent. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was numb, his tongue in the way. She smiled even wider, excited. Pleased. He’d seen that smile on her face before.

  It was the summer after he’d turned ten years old, and he was visiting the twins on holiday. Melchior had brought home a scruffy tabby he’d found wandering the streets of the city and he was absolutely smitten with her. Less than a week later she had given birth to six kittens. All were healthy, except for one, the runt of the litter. Stella.