Once Upon a Fairy tale: A Collection of 11 Fairy Tale Inspired Romances

by Danielle Monsch, Cate Rowan, Jennifer Lewis, Jeannie Lin, Nadia Lee, Dee Carney

  Amused at himself, he rose to dress. He shook off the effects of the dream, bringing his mind into focus so he could deal with the strange situation here.

  He broke his fast with Yuri and the guard in the training hall. If he could have moved his things into the barracks without insulting the court, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He was determined to spend most of his time in the training hall. It suited him much better than the hushed prissiness of the court. It hadn’t taken long to determine that the queen tended to ignore the larger powers of the court in favor of weaker sycophants. Ivan wondered why the stronger powers allowed her to retain the throne, but it wasn’t his court.

  Ivan snorted into his tea.

  “What?” Yuri raised his eyebrows in amused interest.

  “Just thinking that this court isn’t mine.”

  Yuri lifted his tea cup. “That would be a significantly different place.”

  “Indeed, my friend.”

  “Hors told me that if you wanted to spar with the guard this morning, you were welcome to do so.”

  Ivan smiled toothily.

  Yuri shook his head. “I suppose that would be a yes. Come on, then.”

  In short order, Ivan was in the sparring ring. He wasn’t surprised that the ring cleared out so that everyone could watch the foreign prince.

  He’d declined a sparring sword. The swords used by the Rus were light, single-edged blades with a definite curve, intended for speed and maneuverability. Ivan’s sword was a bit longer, heavier and straight, with a double-edged blade. He was curious to see how it would fare against the Rus.

  The practice master asked him first to go through some forms, a standard exercise to see how well Ivan could handle his blade. Ivan smiled, his muscles warming. He enjoyed the weight of the blade, the familiarity of the movements. It didn’t take long for the practice master to nod to Yuri.

  Grinning, Yuri stepped into the ring.

  Ivan stood ready, his relaxed posture an invitation. Yuri was happy to accept that invitation, darting in to slice at Ivan’s practice vest.

  Ivan pivoted, letting the blade slide past, raising his sword to take Yuri in across the torso. At full power, it would have sliced him in half if it landed.

  But Yuri was fast, whirling away with a laugh.

  They settled into a rhythm, with Yuri attacking and Ivan defending, easily meeting the blows of the lighter sword and turning them aside. Ivan barely noticed Yuri increasing speed, moving faster with every pass.

  Ivan matched him, and they danced a deadly dance for nearly half an hour. It was fun, and Ivan was happy to relieve some of his tension in the ring.

  Ivan paced Yuri, not trying to take the offensive, taking the time to get a good feel for the way Yuri employed his sword. The single edge, necessary with the curved blade, was a definite disadvantage. It allowed for only one direction of attack. A hit from the back of the sword would bruise, but not incapacitate.

  Curious, Ivan shifted his grip, dipping his blade tip slightly downward. Yuri immediately lunged, taking advantage of a perceived lapse in Ivan’s defense. Ivan whipped the tip of his sword up, using the broader flat to ride the back side of Yuri’s blade to the beginning of the curve. He twisted his sword, flipping the flat of the blade over the curve and finishing the move in a sort of spiraling flick.

  Yuri watched in surprise as his wrist bent back at a sharp, awkward angle. At the edge of breaking his wrist, he released the sword and it flipped through the air to land on the dirt.

  Ivan pressed the tip of the sword forward, letting it rest in the center of Yuri’s chest. With the practice vest on, he was in no danger, but the point was clear. Ivan was in complete control of the match.

  Yuri shifted his gaze from his hand to the sword at his chest before meeting Ivan’s eyes.

  “Well, damn,” he said mildly.

  Ivan threw his head back and laughed. A moment later and Yuri began laughing, too. It felt good to release the tension and share humor with a brother-in-arms. It didn’t take long for others to join.

  The practice master clapped Ivan on the shoulder.

  “I would be interested in discussing your techniques, Prince.”

  “Certainly. Your sword has a very different approach than ours. I would imagine you run circles around most opponents.”

  The practice master smiled. “That is the point.”

  Ivan smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time since arriving at the court of the Rus. His smile faded slowly when he caught sight of one of the prettily dressed courtiers standing nervously outside the rail.

  Yuri followed his gaze and also grew quiet. In moments, the practice yard was silent.

  The young courtier cleared his throat.

  “Prince Ivan, the queen requires your presence at court.”

  Ivan lifted his sword to his shoulder, careful to miss both the practice master and Yuri. It was petty of him, but he was pleased to see the courtier eye the sword warily. He thought better of the man for not flinching.

  “I will attend Her Highness once I am presentable at court.”

  “I apologize, Prince Ivan. I was told to bring you immediately.”

  Ivan looked down at his sweaty, dust-caked clothing. His hair was damp and clung to his temples. He was certain his face, like Yuri’s, was streaked with sweat and grime.

  “I fear I am in no condition to attend the queen,” he said slowly. He wasn’t being difficult. Queen Alina had shown herself shallow. To present himself thusly at court might be taken as a grave insult.

  The courtier looked distressed. “I am sorry, Prince. My orders were clear.”

  If she insisted on his immediate presence, despite his desire to clean up, there was nothing he could do without causing larger problems. He shrugged, sheathing his sword.

  The practice master handed him a dampened cloth. Ivan used it to wipe his face, unsurprised when the cloth came away filthy.

  He gave the practice master a shallow bow of respect. “I am pleased with my practice. I look forward to seeing you another time.”

  “We are honored to have an accomplished swordsman like you in our yard, Prince Ivan. You are welcome to return at your convenience.”

  Ivan turned to Yuri. “Perhaps we might see each other later?”

  “I will make a point of finding you, Prince.”

  *

  Ivan followed the courtier through the palace and into the main court rooms. As he walked, he turned things over in his head. He didn’t understand why the queen would send for him, and require him so urgently he could not even pause to bathe and clothe himself for court.

  She’d dismissed him so easily the evening before, and to his knowledge there was no reason for this audience. It put him on edge.

  He entered the chamber and immediately noticed the difference. There were fewer people today, maybe half of the number from yesterday. Even so, he noticed that they cleared away from him. Well, if they didn’t want to be exposed to sweat and dirt, that wasn’t his concern.

  The queen sat on her throne, her pink and silver dress spread out over the huge seat. Stribog and Marzanya, as well as two others he didn’t know.

  He approached the throne, again bowing precisely what she was owed. He found he actually resented bowing to her at all. She didn’t deserve it. This time he never dipped his head, keeping his eyes on her face.

  Alina scrunched up her nose at him, her pretty face transmitting her disgust at his condition.

  He couldn’t bring himself to care.

  “Prince Ivan. Why do you come into my court in such a state?”

  “Your Highness, I was in the practice yards when your summons reached me. I was told you required my immediate attendance.”

  She huffed out a sigh. “You could have stopped to clean yourself and put on decent clothing.”

  The courtier who had brought him in blanched. Abruptly, Ivan felt sorry for him. He was barely past his majority and his queen was capricious and petty. He had followed his orders, and
if Ivan read the situation correctly, he would be punished for doing so.

  Still bent in his bow, Ivan shrugged. He would let her assume it was his choice. The youngling didn’t deserve to be punished.

  “No matter,” the queen said, waving it aside. “You are here now. I have a task for you to pass the time while I notify your father that you won’t be continuing your quest.”

  Shock and fury hit him like a stone to the face. For a moment he was too stunned to even respond. The queen took his silence as agreement.

  “You’ll go out with a party of my guard to search for harpies. They have recently moved their nests and we need to find them. It is necessary for the safety of my court. You’ll be on a quest for me.”

  She sounded so pleased with herself, spectacularly unaware of the series of insults she had just dealt him.

  The sound of his teeth grinding helped Ivan hold the leash of his temper. He was too close to causing a major inter-court incident. He just needed to get clear of Alina and her ineffective, infuriating rule. Once clear of the court proper, he could ignore her idiocy so long as he kept to the terms of his magical visa while in her lands.

  Taking a deep breath, he marshaled his patience. He straightened. For this he owed her no bow.

  He had to be careful. She had given him only the barest hint of what she wanted. He would not betray he knew more. “Your Highness, I understand your concern for your people. However, that is no concern of mine.”

  Almost a lie. It would become a concern for him if she couldn’t hold Deathless back. If the Rus fell, Koschei might come for the Northlands next. But if Ivan completed his quest, he would eliminate the Deathless at the same time he gained the firebird.

  “You are a guest in my court,” Alina said petulantly, pulling his attention back to her. “You must do as I tell you.”

  He blinked. That was such a fundamental misunderstanding of the rules of hospitality he couldn’t even begin to address that. He could, however, address her control over his action. Which, on this point, was absolutely none.

  “Queen Alina, I am not a member of your court and owe you no allegiance. My allegiance and honor are sworn to my father King Yddris. You have no authority to order me to participate in the search for the harpies. I will not put the desires of another court over the orders of my king.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You deny my sovereignty.”

  His magic burned his fingertips. It took nearly all his control to keep from slapping her down for that affront. She overstepped her bounds, insulting his honor and his father’s sovereignty. Either she was being deliberately horrible or she was unconscionably stupid.

  He glanced briefly at the advisors standing at her back. Stribog met his gaze. There was something there, but he couldn’t tell what.

  “No, Your Highness. Your authority over your court is not in question. However, just as you would expect a member of your court to owe you loyalty in the presence of another ruler, I must owe my loyalty to my father even though I am a guest of the Rus.”

  The queen wrinkled her dainty nose at him. “Of course my people are loyal. But this is important.”

  Fury flashed through him. How dare she? She insulted his honor and the honor of all of his people with that statement. His surroundings were suddenly very clear, everything sharp and detailed to his battle-ready senses. The gasps of shock from her people, the way her advisors stepped back from her as if to distance themselves from her idiocy. No one stepped to her side in support. She was alone in this stupidity. The die cast was cast and she seemed the only one who could not see it.

  “Alina Farseer,” he said with slow deliberation, omitting her title. “Do you seek honor challenge with the Northlands and with me, Ivan Frostbreather?”

  The entire court held its breath. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he awaited her response.

  Surprise widened her eyes and rounded her mouth. Not upset or concern, but surprise. “What are you talking about, Prince?”

  “You have gravely insulted my king, my honor, and the honor of the fae of the Northlands.” Ivan stood very straight so there was no doubt that in this he was no supplicant at the queen’s feet. His magic buzzed through him, very close to the surface. Close enough that his skin was beginning to steam as the air around him cooled.

  Somewhere behind him, he heard someone’s breathing hitch. He smelled the anxiety at his back.

  “Such an insult cannot go unaddressed. My father and I have no quarrel with your people, for they have no part of your personal attack. Therefore, instead of war, I offer personal combat or personal restitution.”

  The queen stared at him for a moment before she turned to look at her advisors. They stood expressionless and she stamped her foot in pique. “What? What did I do?”

  Behind the queen, Stribog shook his head.

  She really was that stupid. It was a miracle no one had killed her yet. And Ivan was abruptly certain he could kill her. She had no battle magic and in personal combat, no one could help her.

  “My queen,” Stribog answered her, “you told him you expected him to turn traitor to his king and that you expected than anyone in his court would do the same.”

  “I did not,” she huffed, insulted. “Clearly you misunderstood. You all misunderstood.”

  She glared at Ivan. Ivan met her gaze unwaveringly. His body was already preparing for battle, his mind clearing to focus on combat.

  “My queen, you did. If that was not your intention, I beg you to offer reparations instead of combat.”

  Ivan watched her turn the conversation over in her brain. He saw the moment she realized she had, indeed, offered him mortal insult. And then he saw her realize what she faced in personal battle with the heir of King Yddris.

  She exhaled sharply. She didn’t want to apologize, but she also didn’t want to face him in a duel.

  “I see,” she said finally. “It appears you have taken my words amiss, though there was no malice intended.”

  Even now she didn’t apologize. How had they let this woman assume the throne?

  “The choice is yours, Alina Farseer. Combat or restitution.” He was not going to budge. He had no room to maneuver if he intended to defend the honor of his court.

  Ivan could feel the weight of destiny on his shoulders. The decisions here had consequences beyond this room. If he killed Alina in combat, he was entitled to vie for her throne. Even if he allowed her quarter, her position would be so weakened that a coup was inevitable. If Alina somehow managed to best Ivan, she would face the wrath of Yddris. That would create a situation with enemies on two fronts, and would likely lead to a coup.

  Her best option was to offer reparations, but she would have to swallow her pride to do so.

  Ivan was willing to accept reasonable reparations in lieu of battle. He had no desire to usurp the throne from the captive princess, and no inclination to create diplomatic difficulties for his father. As much as he itched to use force to make the lessons of her stupidity plain, that was personal. He couldn’t afford to let the personal overrule the public in this.

  The queen sighed heavily. “Very well.”

  Before Alina could say anything further, one of the two advisors Ivan didn’t recognize fell to her knees, arms stretched forward in supplication.

  Ivan frowned at her, his frown intensifying when the queen stared at her in horror and shrank back into her throne. Stribog rushed to the woman’s side.

  “What ails you, Gamayune?”

  Ivan rocked back on his heels, pulled from the killing quiet in his head. He knew this woman. Gamayune was a prophetess of unparalleled power and accuracy. None of the fae equaled her. Alina might be strong in farseeing, but Gamayune was a far more valuable fae, and black amber was no protection against prophecy.

  “The river turns,” Gamayune said. Her voice echoed, the words clear in the room despite her quiet, empty tone. A court scribe ripped a piece of parchment out and began inking her words as she spoke. “Beware the rot rising
with the sun. The curse-ridden beast must lead and the beating heart of the sea must be broken by the daughter of dreams. Two paths, only one to life. The old will aid the young, the bound will aid the free, and that which is sought will be sought no more.”

  She slumped, her prophecy delivered. Gamayune’s body shook, the tremors so intense he could see them from where he stood. The tremors grew, becoming spasms which would have thrown her against the floor if Stribog had not held her down. After a moment, she stilled, and her eyes cleared. She pinned Ivan with a look.

  “You are the cause and the remedy. If you fail, the fae will fall. Do not fail us.”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

  Ivan planted his feet apart, watching as Stribog helped a pair of courtiers move Gamayune from the raised dais out of the room.

  Her parting words echoed in his head. You are the cause and the remedy.

  Ivan frowned. He needed a copy of the entire prophecy. He whipped his head around to the scribe.

  “Scribe, please provide me with a copy of that prophecy.”

  “Don’t order my scribe,” Alina snapped.

  “I asked, Your Highness. However, if you intend to deny me a copy of a prophecy intended for me, I will invoke law to petition for the right to a copy. But I would remind you that prior to the prophecy, there was a personal challenge you had yet to answer. We cannot deal with matters of law until matters of honor are discharged.”

  He wasn’t going to let her slide. If anything, this made controlling Alina more important.

  “Still? After the prophetess just told you that going on this quest for me is of utmost importance? If you don’t find the harpies, you won’t save the princess and all fae will fall!”