Once Upon a Dream

by Megan Derr

  When they finally stopped, it was in a small clearing that boasted only a trickling brook and a building that was, Diggory realized after a moment, an old hunting cabin. He suspected there had probably been a stable on the premises at one point too, but it was either gone or better hidden by the dark.

  Adalwin motioned for him to leave the horses by the brook and then led the way into the cabin. He moved to the fireplace, but Diggory stopped him and got a fire going himself. While he did that, Adalwin lit a few lamps, and by the time the fire was lit the whole place was filled with a warm, orange-yellow light. Adalwin raked a hand through his fingers and sighed heavily. "May I ask you something, Diggory?"

  "Anything, Highness."

  "Have you ever thought you knew someone, only to find you did not know them at all? That everything you thought you knew was a lie?"

  Diggory's mouth twisted. "Aye, Highness. I knew a man for many years, a man upon whom my father always relied. One day, that man and I made a journey to a neighboring… village to… deliver an important item and on the way there, the man tried to kill me and take the item we were transporting. He was nothing like the man my father and I always believed him to be, only a cowardly thief who had been waiting for a chance to steal that item."

  "I see," Adalwin said quietly. "I am sorry, that is far more serious a betrayal. Perhaps I am merely a fool, to believe letters written to me by a stranger could hold any veracity. It has become clear that I am foolishly easy to court."

  Anger poured through Diggory—at Benoit for his betrayal, for the way he was hurting Adalwin and making him doubt himself. Anger at himself for letting down his guard when he had felt there was something strange about the way Benoit and his men were acting. But anger would not help him, and so he forced himself to set it aside. "Highness, I've only known you a matter of hours, but you do not strike me as a fool—and I think by now I would know, for fools make themselves known very quickly. Perhaps there is more to the situation than you realize. Do not give up yet."

  Adalwin smiled crookedly. "At times you seem a good deal more than someone who cares for horses, Diggory."

  "You can learn a lot from horses—and from listening to the folks who go in and out of the stables," Diggory replied with a shrug. "If you believed in the letters written to you then continue to have faith in them and perhaps it will be rewarded in the end."

  "Perhaps," Adalwin said, though he did not look terribly convinced. Diggory wanted suddenly to tug him close, hold him until it eased the lines of worry and doubt from his face, pull him to the, fire and urge him to relax, distract him with soft kisses.

  It was a strange feeling; he was not inclined toward comforting others. Elci and Poris were hardly the only ones to say that he spent too much time with his horses and the woods. On the rare occasion a person interested him enough to take them as a lover, they rapidly made it very clear how callous they found him once the fun was over.

  Diggory turned to poke and prod at the fire, letting it take his sudden irritation. "You should come and warm yourself, Highness. It would not do to take a chill."

  Adalwin gave a soft snort. "I have endured far worse than a cool spring evening." He joined Diggory by the fire anyway, so close they were not quite touching as each fell into his own thoughts.

  The distant cry of an animal that had clearly become dinner for a predator made them both jump. They shared a sheepish smile and Adalwin sighed. "I suppose we had best return. Thank you for coming with me, Diggory. I did not mean to foist so much upon you on your first day."

  "I am here to serve you, Highness. You do not bother me. Please be at ease around me."

  "Let's go home," Adalwin said, but gripped his shoulder briefly before heading outside.

  They said nothing more all the journey home or even back in the stable. Diggory again found himself wanting to pull Adalwin close and kiss him, hold him, whatever it took to ease the worries causing those fine shoulders to droop. Instead, he murmured goodnight and watched Adalwin walk away, then got a drink of water from the well before he raced off to wait where he could follow Elci.

  The palace clock was just chiming midnight when Elci appeared at the gates, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket as he strode off toward the city. Diggory hung well back and followed him, keeping to where Elci would not catch him even from the corner of his eye.

  When they reached the old church, he crept around to the side and huddled beneath a window that had long since had all its glass knocked out. A few minutes later, another figure appeared and slipped into the church after Elci. Diggory shivered in the cold and listened while they argued over price and time until they finally came to an agreement that the 'potency potion' would be provided in six days, but at the cost of two extra silver.

  Diggory sneered at that, at Elci's idiocy. Such a potion only cost pence—he'd heard the guards discuss such matters often enough, though he thankfully had never needed such a potion himself. No, he would have no trouble at all keeping his husband satisfied in the bedroom—and wherever else Adalwin demanded satisfaction.

  A few minutes later, the second man left. Diggory stood up and moved as soundlessly as possible back to the front of the church, keeping to the dark until Elci stepped by him. He waited only until they were well away from holy ground, then grabbed Elci from behind and snapped his neck.

  He dragged the body off the street and dumped it into a rank-smelling alleyway before divesting it of all valuables and coin. He said a quiet prayer, hoping Elci lived more wisely in his next life, then slipped away and headed back to the palace.

  *~*~*

  He was eating a breakfast of bread with honey and a couple of pickled eggs he'd charmed out of one of the cooks when Poris appeared and scoured the kitchen, clearly in search of Elci. He left a couple of minutes later, but Diggory did not go after him.

  Instead, he finished his breakfast and headed back to the stable, idly planning when he would be able to slip away to learn more about Poris and Ignance. They would be with Benoit in parts of the castle that a stable boy had no business being in, which would make the matter more difficult. He had been lucky with Elci and with him missing—since Diggory doubted they would find his body—they would be more on edge.

  Voices caught his attention and he slowed his steps when he saw a group of men lingering near Adalwin's private stable. To judge by the comments, they were having a fine gossip about the hunting party that had left just an hour or so ago. Adalwin had been with them, his face pale and angry, but he had smiled when Diggory suggested he simply get lost for a few hours and blame his new stable hand for saddling the wrong horse.

  He listened with half an ear as he went about his chores, but paid more attention when they began to talk about a masked ball happening that night—the formal betrothal ball. He had requested it be a masked ball because they were his favorite. So much easier to enjoy oneself with a mask.

  Diggory's grip tightened on the pitchfork he was holding until his knuckles whitened. It was supposed to be him at Adalwin's side, holding his hand and making promises, exchanging their very first kiss. He would kill Benoit as painfully as he knew how and not even because of what he was doing to Diggory—though that was more than enough. No, he would make Benoit pay for what he was doing to Adalwin, for what Diggory was doing to Adalwin.

  Putting the pitchfork aside, he went to fetch his coin purse. The hunt would not return for several hours, and if he was quick, nobody would miss him. He was going to that ball.

  A couple of hours in the village and he had obtained all he required. He returned to the stable and tucked the items away in his room, then set to catching on the chores he'd neglected running errands.

  His determination to attend the ball was only further fueled when the hunting party finally returned and Adalwin looked ragged and worn around the edges, his hands trembling as he more fell off his horse than properly dismounted. Diggory held him close for a moment, let him steady himself, then reluctantly stepped away and busied himself
with the horses. But the memory of Adalwin in his arms would not leave him and the day moved at a crawl after that.

  By the time dark fell and he could hear strains of music coming from the palace, Diggory was champing at the bit to be off. He made certain the horses were all settled comfortably for the night, then fetched the good soap he'd bought in town and cleaned himself thoroughly, even if he was left shivering and practically blue at the end of it.

  His clothes were faded and did not quite fit, but they were still just barely in fashion. Whoever had owned them before had sold them off not long after acquiring them. All to the good for Diggory, though it amused him that his own fine clothes were probably only a week or so away, traveling on a much slower cart with the rest of his belongings. Pulling on the clothes, he combed his hair, then put on the jewelry he'd managed to acquire: gold earrings, cravat pin, and his cheap pocket watch.

  Nothing close to the satin and velvet, the diamonds and sapphires he normally wore, but he did not care what he had to wear so long as he was able to spend time with Adalwin at the ball. He held a hand to his wound, which seemed to be healing well enough, but a general air of wrongness clung; the curse was just waiting for him to slip up and grant it a chance to wake and kill him

  It would be so easy to walk up to Adalwin and tell him he remembered every word of Adalwin's letters, to prove it by reciting them, to recite parts of his own. So easy to kill himself in a matter of words. Frustration left him feeling raw and helpless, and he angrily secured his mask. He left the stable at a rapid pace, as though he could outrun all the problems biting at his heels.

  The dancing was in full tilt when he slipped in by way of the garden entrance. He took a glass of sparkling rose wine from a passing tray and drained it in one long, neat swallow. Taking another glass, he looked around for Adalwin. It took only a moment to spot him, even with the mask. Diggory suspected that he would someday be able to mark Adalwin no matter what the circumstances.

  He sipped at the second glass of wine, then set it aside and pushed his way through the crowd, moving along the edge of the dance floor until he ran into Adalwin as he was leaving it. "Good evening, my lord," he greeted, careful to let a bit of his native accent slip—an accent his tutors had worked hard to rid him of, but which would be useful for giving the impression he was a noble from the border territories, a stranger.

  Adalwin smiled politely. "Good evening, my lord."

  "I do not suppose you would honor me with a dance? One so handsome hardly has need of my attention, but I would be honored by your indulgence."

  Laughing, Adalwin accepted the hand Diggory held out and let himself be led back to the dance floor. The dance was, thankfully, a simple one that even Diggory knew well enough not to embarrass himself. Normally he avoided dancing, but he could not think where else he would be able to get Adalwin to himself for a few minutes—well, the stable, but Diggory wanted to be himself for the night, not a stable boy.

  "Are you enjoying yourself, my lord?"

  "Of course," Adalwin replied. "What's not to find enjoyable?"

  Diggory's mouth quirked. "Ordinarily, I would ask what is to find enjoyable. I have no love of parties. I much prefer my solitude, or the company of one or two."

  Adalwin frowned and Diggory dared to hope the words sounded familiar to him. "I… I have heard another say much the same thing," he said slowly. "I admit I prefer solitude myself from time to time, but there is something to be said for an atmosphere such as this."

  "I am beginning to see that it has a few benefits," Diggory said softly, and they lapsed into silence as they continued to dance.

  Unfortunately, the dancing came to its inevitable end and Diggory was prevented claiming another by the ringing of the bell. The king climbed the dais and rambled on about marriage and bonds and so forth. At Diggory's side, Adalwin tensed, all but radiating his unhappiness.

  Diggory waited until the king was moments away from summoning Adalwin and Benoit to the dais, then turned to Adalwin and cupped his chin, tilted his head down. "All will be well, prince. I promise." Adalwin drew a sharp breath as Diggory leaned up to brush a whisper-soft kiss across his mouth.

  Then he slipped away, weaving through the crowd until he reached the back of the room. His stomach churned as he watched Benoit and Adalwin mount the stage, cast their masks aside, and join hands. He wanted to scream in fury when they recited the betrothal vows and he had to close his eyes when they kissed. When he could open his eyes again, he made himself focus on Benoit, watched as he led Adalwin to the dance floor.

  He was obviously biased in thinking they did not dance together nearly as well as he and Adalwin had, but Diggory was more than all right with that. When they finally finished and the others began to trickle back onto the floor for the next dance, he kept his eyes on Benoit—and there, yes. Poris and Ignance, obvious masks or not. How had they deceived Diggory and his family for so long? What other wrongs had they committed that had gone unremarked? It made him sick to think on it.

  Poris and Ignance were speaking quietly, heads bent together to be heard over the noise of the crowded ballroom. He moved across the room toward them, careful to stay out of their direct line of sight—not that they seemed to be paying mind to anything, but Diggory would not underestimate them a second time.

  A few minutes later, they glanced at Benoit, received a surreptitious nod, and slipped from the ball. Diggory made certain Benoit was no longer paying attention and then went after them. He followed them upstairs, grateful for the milling crowds throughout the palace and the fact nearly every person was drunk or having too much fun to notice anything that might dampen it.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, they turned right and wove through the halls until they reached a door that most likely lead to Benoit's chambers. Diggory itched to go after them, but he made himself wait instead, slipping into a shadowed alcove.

  Just as he was beginning to lose patience, they reemerged dressed in plain, dark clothes and bearing weapons. Those wouldn't save them. He followed them back downstairs, lifting a coat from a man so drunk he had only draped it over himself before passing out on a hallway bench. Shrugging into it, he hastened his step until he caught sight of Poris and Ignance again. When they were well away from the palace and traveled in darkness broken only by the lantern Poris carried, he discarded his mask in the high grass.

  Once more he found himself shadowing them all the way to town, but rather than the church, they stopped in a pub. It did not take him long to determine they were trying to find Elci. Likely they assumed he'd succumbed to second thoughts and had tried to run.

  He waited outside, smoking a cigarette cadged from a passerby. When they finally came out, grumbling about Elci and deciding which pub to try next, he fell into step behind them and made certain they were aware of him. It was only because he watched that he noticed the moment they marked him and tensed. But they kept their pace, acted as though they had not—until they came to a quiet, empty street. Then they drew their swords and turned, freezing when the light from Poris' lantern fell across Diggory's face. "You!" they snarled.

  Diggory didn't reply as they charged him, simply drew the knife hidden at the small of his back and threw it. Poris managed to knock it away, but the distraction was all Diggory needed to gain the advantage, dodging out of the way of Ignance, grabbing the lantern, and smashing it into Poris' face. Poris screamed in agony; Diggory stole the dagger at his waist and buried it in his throat. Taking the sword as Pori let it go, Diggory turned—and screamed himself when Ignance managed to land a blow right where his wound was still healing.

  He pressed one hand to his bloody side; the sword remained steady in his other. "Backstabbing bastard."

  "Stupid prince," Ignance retorted.

  Diggory ignored the taunt and merely waited for Ignance to attack. He swore when it came because it forced him to move in a way that did his wound no favors. The fight was a brutal one, but every time he wavered, started to succumb to the darknes
s that wanted to take him, he thought of Adalwin and pressed on.

  The sound of shouting, of feet pounding toward them, forced them to pause. Damn, someone had heard the ruckus and raised the alarm. Diggory braced himself to finish the fight and then flee, but to his surprise, Ignance simply turned and ran.

  Damn it. He should have tried to kill them more quietly, but he'd thought he'd had them. Well, that was what he got for being arrogant. Throwing Poris' sword aside in disgust, Diggory fled as quickly as he could manage, stripping off his jacket to press it against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. The cold wind made him shudder and homesickness struck him like an unexpected blow to the face.

  He wanted his life back, he wanted those he cared about to be safe. Damn it, he just wanted to be him again. His clothes, his bed, his books and sword and horses. His chance to win Adalwin's affections and build a new life with his husband.

  Ignance had gotten away, however, and he would go straight to Benoit. Well, they did not know he was right beneath their noses. Diggory would have to ensure he maintained that advantage. He stumbled his way through town until he found an inn that looked as though it would not ask too many question. Setting a gold coin on the counter, he said, "I need a bed, hot water, needle and thread, and some clean rags."

  "I can see what you need," she replied tartly, but handed over a worn key. "Get on with you, then. Top of the stairs, all the way at the end of the hall on the right."

  She brought the supplies a few minutes later and briskly set about sewing and cleaning the wound for him. "Men cannot go a week without finding an excuse to cut each other open. You're lucky you're not dead."

  "I know," he said quietly. "Believe me, I know. Thank you for your assistance." He gave her another coin which she tucked away before awkwardly combing through his hair.

  "There's food on the table there. Get some rest and try to be less of a fool tomorrow." She gathered up the used supplies and left, leaving him alone.

  Diggory moved stiffly to the table and ate, then settled down to get a couple of hours of rest before he had to head back to the palace before he was missed. He hoped Adalwin had not gone to the stable looking for him. He hoped more that Benoit and Ignance were not going to immediately return to town and hunt for him.