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

  “Don’t call her that,” Marzanya snapped. “You may call her Babushka, as a term of respect. To mention her name or call her any other thing is to ask for trouble. And yes, it was she who aided in the rescue of Mirinka”

  “Are there any who have been his prisoner but are now free?”

  Hors rubbed a hand over his face. “None that I know. Though Marya Morevna held him captive for some years before her idiot husband freed him.”

  “Why did she not kill the sorcerer?”

  “She tried but could not. Her experience is what makes us so certain that he has transferred his soul outside his body.”

  “So why did her husband free him?”

  “Marya didn’t tell Ivan she held Deathless in the tower. When Ivan found him, he thought him a normal prisoner. According to Marya’s servants, she had captured Deathless by draining him of his magic and kept Deathless without food or water for his entire captivity. When Ivan gave him bread and water, Deathless regained enough magic to escape. He took them both.”

  “Does anyone know how Marya drained his powers?”

  Marzanya gave him a speaking look. “If we knew that, would we need you? We questioned her servants, her soldiers, we combed through her archives and the archives here at court without success. So far as I know, no one knows how she accomplished it.”

  Of course not. That would have been too easy.

  What had begun as a simple quest to retrieve a bird for his father was becoming something much more complicated. A complicated quest needed a clear plan. He now had as much information as they could provide, though it didn’t seem to be of much use.

  Ivan rose from his seat. “I will retire to think on what you have told me. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  The others nodded, and Ivan bowed respectfully before leaving. He needed to think, to plan, and to sleep. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting much sleep once he left the Rus.

  *

  She’d sought him in dreams for hours to no avail. Though she could dream walk while waking, her target had to be sleeping, a fact that was currently making Vasalisa impatient. Masha had brought more apples. After eating one, she’d stored the other, hiding it from Koschei’s prying eyes.

  As far as Koschei knew, she was healing herself with magic. Of course, she didn’t have healing magic, but since he hadn’t cracked her open yet, he didn’t know that. Hooray for her.

  Right now, though, she had more immediate concerns. Koschei had retreated to his tower, sated on her pain. She had maybe another day before he emerged. If she was lucky, he would be distracted by something and forget about her for a few more days. She wasn’t usually that lucky.

  Sighing to herself, she gave up on finding the prince, allowing herself to simply float. It was relaxing here, the curtain between reality and dream helping her forget her circumstances. She spent more and more time in dreams. It was dangerous. She could lose herself in the dreamscape and not be able to surface. Considering the alternative, she wasn’t particularly worried about that.

  Images began swimming around her in the ether.

  Vasalisa pulled herself up a little, just enough to pay attention to the images.

  Her heart skipped.

  “Hello, Prince Ivan,” she murmured.

  His face swam into focus, the pale hair tousled around his beautiful face. She wanted to run her fingers over his cheeks, feel the way his bones were put together under his skin. Such an odd desire.

  She shivered as his body coalesced from the ether. He was naked.

  Suddenly it wasn’t his face she wanted to touch. Her palms itched and she curled her fingers into them to keep for reaching for him. It would be unforgivably rude to take advantage of his unaware state.

  But she could take a moment to admire him. Broad, muscled shoulders and arms corded with strength spoke of hours with a sword. The rune marks she’d noted at their first meeting covered more than his arms. They continued across the top of his chest and lines of runes traced down his ribcage, which showed faint purple bruises. She’d seen similar on her brothers after hard bouts in the practice ring. The flat, wide muscles of his chest were smooth, the small nipples incongruently pink against his pale skin. His belly was faintly ridged even relaxed in sleep, the shallow dimple of his navel ringed by a sparse whorl of hair that led to a thin line of hair arrowing down his lower belly. His hips and legs were covered in a thin sheet, hidden but not disguised. The prince was an impressive specimen.

  This was bad. She really, really wanted to touch him, but to touch him while he wasn’t aware of her presence would be a violation, both of his trust and her magic. She closed her eyes, steeling herself against the urge. When she opened them, she deliberately kept her gaze on his face.

  “Prince Ivan,” she repeated.

  His brows drew together and his thick lashes trembled against his cheeks. Smudges of shadow below his eyes told her he needed this sleep. She shouldn’t interrupt, even if his body would continue to sleep.

  She pulled back. With a sigh of regret she knelt to put the apple down.

  “No!”

  Vasalisa paused. Did he speak to her? She looked over. His eyes were open and he looked directly at her. Those quicksilver eyes sent a little shiver through her.

  “I thought to let you sleep. You need it,” she told him, pleased at her even tone.

  He sat up in the bed. Gods he was well-formed.

  “Are you the same woman? You are healed?”

  Oh. She hadn’t realized. “Yes to both questions.”

  He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re beautiful. I couldn’t tell before. I suppose if I am going to dream about a tormented maid, I’d make her beautiful.”

  She smiled. “As I said before, you are dreaming and not. We are bound on this plane by certain limitations of reality, and some things on this plane have weight in our world.”

  He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

  She moved through the ether toward him. “We are bound by our form in reality. What you see here is a reflection of what is there. That is why you saw me injured at our last meeting, and why you are currently unclothed.”

  He looked down, cursed, and put his big hands over the sheet at his groin. “Had I known I would meet you in dreams, I would have dressed appropriately.”

  Vasalisa swallowed a laugh. “Believe me when I tell you I don’t mind.”

  His nearly colorless brows rose before he dropped his hands to his sides. “Then look your fill.”

  She blinked. Oh, he was arrogant. Still, he had reason.

  Taking him up on the invitation, she stepped toward him, taking her time. She walked around the bed. This was a body honed by physical activity and training. There were few scars because the sidhe healed quickly and cleanly from most wounds. Cold iron and some magics would scar, but most hurts left no visible mark. He had a messy scar low on his back, maybe a finger span to the side of his spine, just above the curve of his buttocks.

  Vasalisa’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch.

  “How did you get this scar?”

  “We were exterminating a nest of feeders. Our lands have no natural portals, so we were spared the worst of it, but these had come up from the south, fleeing the extermination teams from Gallia. One ducked under my sword and sank teeth into me. I think he was aiming for my spine.”

  She liked that he didn’t turn to face her, that he answered her without boast or undue pride.

  “You are well-formed, Prince,” she told him, finishing her circle. She faced him again, forcing herself to keep her eyes up. “May I examine the tattoos?”

  Ivan flashed a charming smile. “Be my guest, Lady. You may examine anything you like.”

  Vasalisa gave him a chiding look. That was a bit more direct than she was prepared for right now. “We don’t know each other, Prince. You are, without doubt, a pleasure to look upon, but I require more from sex than simple attraction. Even if I’d been less selective before my captivity, my time with Ko
schei would underline the wide distance between a pretty face and a potential sexual partner.”

  Ivan’s jaw set. “I hate knowing he hurts you. If this is real, if you are real, I want to find this Koschei and kill him.”

  Vasalisa’s eyes widened. His quiet statement was more a threat than the words. But she couldn’t let him face Koschei.

  She shook her head. “It isn’t your fight. I can withstand Koschei.”

  She hoped.

  He met her look, something few would do in the dreamscape. In the dreamscape her eyes reflected the swirling patterns of the dream ether and the dream walking magic. Her brother had once told her that looking in her eyes in the dreamscape was like looking through a window made of possibilities. There was too much and none of it was firm enough to grasp.

  “Do your eyes look like that in reality?”

  Interesting how his thoughts ran similarly to hers. Maybe there was some reason for the connection beyond simply the golden apples.

  “No. It’s the dream magic which makes them look like this.”

  “I would like to see your eyes without the dream magic,” he said slowly. “When my quest is complete….”

  She shook her head. “As I said, it is not your fight. There are reasons I must remain here.”

  “No. There are no acceptable reasons for what you endure.”

  Time to change the subject. To distract him, she reached out to touch his shoulder.

  She wasn’t prepared for the spark that leaped between them before her fingers met his skin. The arc of electricity bridged the gap with an audible crackle.

  The charge ran through her fingers, up her arm, and lodged firmly in her heart, kicking it into a gallop. She had a stunned moment to wonder if her heart might literally burst before it settled into a steady, if fast, rhythm.

  Vasalisa stared, her fingers unmoving a fraction of an inch from him.

  “What in the name of Hel was that?”

  She blinked, lifting her fingers away. “I don’t know.”

  “Was it the runes?” he asked, puzzlement clear in his face.

  She leaned in, studying the tattoos. The fact that the tattoos remained in his skin indicated they were magical in nature. “What are the runes?”

  He exhaled, his breath brushing over her cheek. She didn’t move away.

  “They are protective spells woven into my skin. They have never done that before.”

  Vasalisa shook her head. “I meant no harm. I wanted only to touch you.”

  His eyelids lowered, his gaze becoming sensual. “Touch me, then. Let us see what happens.”

  “Do you feel the pull, Prince Ivan?”

  He tilted his head so his lips were alongside her ear. “Yes. But you are now the one who must choose. I have issued the invitation. It is yours to accept or decline.”

  Her breathing hitched and a tiny shiver worked up her spine. She wanted to touch him. She was afraid if she did, that spark might stop her heart. She was afraid if she touched him, she might never want to stop.

  More than either of those things, though, she was afraid if she didn’t touch him, she would never see him again. Perhaps this was the connection they needed for her to continue to find him.

  Hesitantly, she raised her hand again. Even in the dream it felt portentous.

  She met his gaze, and laid her fingers on his skin, along the ridge of his collar bone and on top of the blue-inked runes.

  He closed his eyes. The feel of the connection snapping into place between them turned her stomach over in something that was almost nausea, but felt more visceral than that. It was as if her internal organs realigned themselves, everything moving to make room for him inside her.

  She snatched her hand back. She didn’t know what that was, but it couldn’t be good. It was too much, too intense, for someone she had never met outside of dreams.

  “Not the runes,” she whispered.

  He opened his eyes, the arctic blue charged with magic and lust. “No. Not the runes. Who are you?”

  “Princess Vasalisa Whiteflame, daughter to Dazbog the Bright and Koliada Dawnbringer.”

  She felt his entire body tense. His breath stilled for a moment before resuming. Confused by his response, she dropped her hand to her side and stepped back a pace. At the narrow-eyed look on his face, she took a second step back.

  “Vasalisa?”

  “Yes.”

  “The fates laugh at me,” he murmured, shaking his head. His features relaxed so he didn’t look so predatory.

  “They laugh at us all, Prince.” It was the only explanation for her current situation. Her father gone, her aunt on the throne, and her body at the mercy of a twisted sorcerer king. Fate was definitely laughing at her.

  He lifted one shoulder and leaned back, widening the distance between them. Vasalisa couldn’t have said why his doing so hurt, but she felt the twinge nonetheless.

  The move put his shoulder muscles in sharp relief and flexed his abdomen in a way that made Vasalisa want to run her fingers over the ridges.

  “True. But fate is clearly at work between us.”

  “How so?” There was no denying Ivan’s beauty. The best she could do was try to focus on his face. His words sank in, made sense, but she wasn’t really paying attention.

  “My quest sent me to the Rus, and I have met with many of your kin. I am, even now, in a bed at your court.”

  Vasalisa blinked. She was paying attention now. Her court? Why would a prince of the Northlands visit her court? “Tell me about this quest, Ivan Frostbreather.”

  “I’m to retrieve the firebird that steals the apples and return her to my father’s court.”

  Vasalisa frowned. That wouldn’t do. Not at all. She would have to find a way to put him off taking the firebird. Maybe she could distract him. “Indeed? That is interesting. Perhaps that is one of the reasons for this connection between us.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” he said pointedly.

  She shrugged her acknowledgment. There was no denying it, but she had to put it aside for now.

  “And there’s that,” Ivan said, nodding to the apple in one hand. “The apples belong to my father. You said a friend gave you the last. Did the same friend provide this one?”

  “My friend has provided me with several of these apples.” He was persistent.

  “And you have used them to aid your healing?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Koschei has been persistent in his attentions. This was not the first time he has done me harm, and I am sure it will not be the last.”

  His nostrils flared. “I hate that I can’t stop it. If the apples help you heal, you are welcome to them. My father sent me out because they were being taken, but if I could do so, I would bring them to you myself.”

  Vasalisa flinched. If he came to her, Koschei would kill him. In Koschei’s twisted brain, Vasalisa was his toy, and he didn’t share his toys. Time to change the subject. “Tell me about you. Do you have a wife? A lover? What activities do you enjoy? It has been a very long time since I had a conversation with anyone.”

  “Deathless doesn’t like to talk?”

  Had she said persistent? He was more than that, he was dogged. “He talks. He doesn’t like anyone to talk back. Will you speak with me?”

  “I will,” he said after a moment. “No, I have neither wife nor lover. At this time, I’m focused on the quest my father set for me.”

  “And activities? What things do you like?” She struggled to keep her eyes on his. His body kept distracting her. She really wanted to look down.

  “I enjoy the hunt. I like horses and swordplay. I enjoy playing games with a worthy opponent.”

  “A physical man,” she murmured. It fit with his body. He didn’t get these muscles by fawning about in court.

  “Yes,” he answered, though she hadn’t meant it as a question.

  “Are you good in battle?”

  “Yes,” he said again. It wasn’t said with pride or boastfulness, but delivere
d in a flat statement of fact.

  “And what of women?”

  “What of them?”

  She gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

  “I enjoy women. I admire intelligence and form. I have no patience for silliness.”

  “Silliness?”

  He made an impatient gesture. The muscles of his chest flexed, making the runes move. Vasalisa swallowed. Distracting him seemed to be doing just as good a job distracting her.

  “Your aunt is an example. She is too involved in her looks and her young lovers to bother with paying attention to matters of state.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. She knew her aunt was a bit shallow. Before Vasalisa’s father had been lost in battle, she’d been interested in nothing more than parties and fun, but she had been raised in the royal house, so she had the same background as Dazbog.

  Vasalisa had been surprised at Alina’s willingness to make the difficult decision of turning her over to Koschei, but her aunt had done it. Vasalisa had taken it as a sign that Alina might be more capable of rule than she’d previously assumed. Evidently Prince Ivan disagreed.

  “How so?”

  She listened intently as he told her of his first meeting with the queen. For the first time tonight, she wasn’t distracted by his nakedness. This was too important to let her fascination with his body sidetrack her attention. From what he told her, it was clear Alina was failing at her duties. It also made her rethink Alina’s motivations and willingness to give her to Koschei. Perhaps it hadn’t been distaste that she’d felt at giving Vasalisa to Koschei.

  “Your court is on the brink of disaster, Princess,” he told her seriously. “Alina is disinterested in ruling to the point of neglect, and the threat posed by Deathless is too real to be ignored. Stribog and a few others do the actual governing, but they lack the authority to do more. If the situation is not remedied soon, I suspect Stribog or Marzanya will take the throne.”

  “Marzanya is barred from the throne by her own line. Stribog, though. He could rule, though he does not wish to do so.”

  Ivan nodded. “That is how it struck me.”

  Vasalisa heaved a sigh. Ivan’s eyes dropped to her breasts under the thin shift, and just like that, the sexual tension was back. And she’d been doing so well.