Vanya lifted his fingers and ran them along the petal, which he found to be as soft as it had looked. He was afraid he might tear it.
“Do you like them?”
Vanya turned. Alexander’s smile made it clear that he knew full well the answer to his own question, but Vanya nodded anyway.
“It’s beautiful. I didn’t know there were places like this.”
“There are many,” Alexander said, offering his hand again. Vanya took it and allowed himself to be drawn to his feet. Crisp leaf litter crunched under his boot as he stood. He looked up at the leaves on the trees. So big, shameless in their size and brightness.
“It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Alexander laughed, low and lovely. “Well, there are many more things that we might see yet. But, for now, listen. Tell me what you hear.”
Vanya closed his eyes and listened. The birds were the loudest. He hadn’t seen any, but their bright chirping calls echoed around the space. What would it be like to have grown up like this? To have been surrounded by music and colour and plenty instead of ice and wind.
He could hear the breeze too, stirring the trees. Rustling the branches as a counterpoint to the birds tweeting. Light and wild and free.
And then he heard something else.
Under the other sounds. Quieter, but there. A pounding. A roaring, maybe.
“I heard something,” he said, gripping Alexander’s hand. “I hear a roaring.”
“Good,” Alexander said. He sounded almost as excited as Vanya felt. “Would you like to see what makes that sound?”
“Yes.”
A gentle tug at his hand. Vanya opened his eyes to Alexander smiling at him. Alexander tugging at him and not letting go. Guiding him forward as Vanya moved after, picking his way carefully through the leaf litter.
It was a good thing that Alexander kept them moving, as Vanya wouldn’t have made it much past the edge of the clearing they’d emerged into. It seemed every step brought a new wonder. A new flower. A new colour. His hands itched for a notebook so he could take these things down. For a pencil to render them, as he knew that soon the memory of them would fade.
The trees grew tighter around them. They were on a path, but it wasn’t well-worn. Maybe it was made by animals? Not human feet, and not often used. The birds seemed closer. Insects buzzed by. Vanya found himself gasping in delight more than once, often to the counterpoint of Alexander’s indulgent chuckles.
He just hadn’t known there were places like this. Hadn’t known the world could be so beautiful.
He was so absorbed in every flower, every insect, that he almost didn’t notice when they emerged from the trees. It was only when Alexander stopped, bringing Vanya to a gentle halt beside him, that Vanya really looked up and saw where they were.
Oh.
For a moment, Vanya was frozen. He’d never even imagined anything like this.
Water. A cliff in front of him, exposed rock, and in front of it, water. A stream of it cascading and splashing down below into a lake. A lake so clear, so pure, that Vanya could see right to the bottom of it, with fish dancing around. The falling water threw up spray, and, in the spray, rainbows danced.
If Vanya had been a better man, he might have fallen to his knees at the sight. As it was, his fingers itched all the more for a pencil. His feet itched to run forward. To plunge himself into the water. To explore every pebble of this place.
“This is only a small waterfall,” Alexander said beside him. “But I thought you wouldn’t have seen one before. I can show you bigger ones. More violent. More beautiful.”
Vanya could hardly comprehend that something might be more beautiful. “This one is perfect. I love it. Can…can I explore it?”
“Of course,” Alexander said, dropping his hand. “Take care on the stones. I don’t want to have to carry you back with a broken leg.”
Vanya imagined himself lifted in Alexander’s strong arms and flushed a little. He wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea. Maybe not the broken leg that went with it. But being carried. Being pressed close against Alexander.
“Come explore with me, then. Make sure I don’t fall.”
Alexander’s expression went blank, and Vanya worried that he’d pushed too far. That, somehow, he’d caused offence. But, then, just as quickly, his expression cleared. Alexander smiled.
“Yes. Let’s explore.”
THAT NIGHT AT dinner, Vanya could hardly move.
He knew, in truth, that he was being dramatic. He slumped back in his chair, groaned, and made only the minimal nods to table manners that were needed to get the food from his plate to his mouth.
His legs ached. His arms ached. His back ached. But all in the most delicious way. He’d spent hours climbing and searching. They’d been behind the waterfall. They’d climbed to the top and looked down. They’d removed their shoes and rolled up their trousers and waded in the water.
Vanya had never had a day like that before.
He’d never felt this bone-deep contentment before.
On the table, a new dish appeared. Bliny, his favourite. He made an attempt to grasp it, but it was out of his reach and he sighed dramatically.
Alexander laughed.
“Having trouble, Ivan?”
“Yes,” Ivan grumbled. He forced himself to lean forward a little, grabbed the bowl, and dragged it towards him. Alexander didn’t seem particularly tired. But he had the body of a man who spent much of his time working, not one like Vanya who spent most of his time lounging. “You should call me Vanya.”
As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Vanya could have slapped himself.
No, no, Alexander should not call him Vanya. Vanya was for close friends. Family. Alexander was not a close friend. He couldn’t be. Just because he had splashed Vanya while they were calf-deep in the river. Just because he had lifted Vanya so Vanya could better smell the flower high in the tree. Just because Alexander had given up whatever he’d meant to do that day so he could spend his time on Vanya.
They couldn’t be friends. Alexander was the man he had to kill.
“Should I?” Alexander said, voice soft and affectionate. “Very well then, Vanya. You may call me Sasha.”
“Sasha.” He tried the name out. It felt good. It felt right for him to use that name.
He was clearly in a lot of trouble.
THE NEXT MORNING, Sasha left as usual. As he did, though, he squeezed Vanya’s hand and promised they’d talk more in the evening. Promised he’d take him out into the world, show him something else that would amaze him.
Then Vanya was alone again.
He knew what he should do. He should resume his search. Pick a room at random and search it top to bottom for the door. A door he wasn’t even going to be able to open when he found it. A door that was irrelevant because how was he ever going to get the key, anyway? If Sasha carried it always, how would Vanya steal it?
He couldn’t bring himself to it. Not that day. Couldn’t convince himself it was worth the energy to search.
Not when he had a better idea.
He went to his room first, pulled back the net at one of the windows. It’d be better to do it there. He didn’t know if it would work, but since the idea had popped into his head the night before, he hadn’t been able to let it go. He had to try.
It was easy enough to remove the net entirely when he stood on the chair. It left a canvas. A stretch of blank wall.
Vanya knew what to do with a canvas.
The house contained many storerooms, but Vanya remembered the one he wanted.
The paint set was in a chest. It wasn’t like the small, dainty set his eldest brother’s wife had brought with her. Not like the piecemeal sets Vanya had grown up with—stolen from wherever he could get them and hidden under the bed so his brothers didn’t laugh. The chest contained large pots of paint. Many brushes. Beautiful canvases. Chalks and charcoals and everything a person might need.
Vanya wondered whi
ch princess Sasha had brought it there for. He wondered if she’d been satisfied with it.
First, he tried to pick only the colours he’d seen the day before. The greens and the blues. But there were so many of them, and there were the flowers—so bright and colourful. How could he only pick a few paints?
Best to take the chest.
The thing was heavier than it looked. And it had seemed quite heavy to start with. Still, with some effort, Vanya heaved it away from its spot and across the floor. He didn’t dare think about the stairs yet, but he’d find a way.
That was when Vanya noticed the door.
VANYA CLOSED THE store room door. He walked to the giant oak front door, opened it, and stepped out. He found himself back in the hallway. Back where he had been.
There was no escape.
He stumbled and allowed himself to sink down onto the bottom step of the grand staircase—glad there were no servants to see him. Glad he was alone there.
He’d found the door.
He hadn’t even meant to. He hadn’t even wanted to. Didn’t want to. He didn’t want to kill a man. He knew his brothers would say that made him weak, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t the kind of person who could just kill someone and call it fair. Call it duty.
But Kaschei the Deathless was evil. Everything Vanya knew about Sasha aside, he knew about Kaschei the Deathless. He knew how he carried away princesses. Knew how he destroyed villages. Knew how he killed kings and princes and knights. Chopped them up. Threw them in the sea. Kaschei was evil. Kaschei needed to be stopped, and Ivan was a prince. Ivan had to do this.
But Sasha laughed at Vanya. Not in the way his brothers did, like Vanya was the joke, but in a kind way. A gentle way. Like he and Vanya were in on a joke together. He had taken Vanya to the waterfall. He had been nothing but kind.
But he was evil.
But he was good.
Vanya wanted to trust his heart. His heart insisted that Sasha was a good person. That Sasha wouldn’t hurt him. That he could just forget the door. Pretend he had never even learnt how to kill Sasha.
But then what?
Sasha left every day. Vanya didn’t know where he went. He could have been out there burning down a village. He never smelt of burning, never had the splatter of blood on his clothes, but he was the most powerful wizard who had ever lived. He didn’t need those things.
Vanya was weak. He wanted Sasha to smile for him. He wanted to paint the beautiful things he’d seen. Wanted to lean against Sasha by the fire as he had the night before.
But he wasn’t just Vanya. He was Prince Ivan.
He knew how this story ended.
He pressed his head between his legs, fought to shut out the world. How could he? How could he hurt Sasha? Sasha who had never hurt him. Sasha who cared for him.
How could he walk away and let Kaschei the Deathless live?
It took a long time for Vanya’s body to calm down. His hands were shaking, his breath fighting him. He felt like he might die, and he would have been more scared but this had happened before. This always happened because he was weak. Because he couldn’t control himself. Because the thought of killing one man—one evil man—was more than he could bear.
His brothers would have laughed at him. His brothers would have broken into the locked room, opened the chest inside, smashed the egg and killed Kaschei. They would have ridden home triumphant.
Just the thought made Vanya hyperventilate again.
He curled up tight, closed his eyes, and counted his breaths. They were shuddery at first, too fast, and he forced himself to slow them down. Forced himself to hold on to a breath for as long as he could. Scant seconds, at first, but then longer and longer still.
His hands stilled a little. Not fully, but a little.
It would pass. It always did.
When he could stand again, he went back to the storeroom. It was late by that time, and he was tired. His body ached from the stress of everything. There was a tremor still running through him. He could do no more at the moment. He couldn’t be expected to do more that night.
He pushed the chest back into place and carefully didn’t look at the door. Then he went upstairs to wash. To freshen up. It wouldn’t do to smell like panic when Sasha came home.
IT WAS TWO days before Vanya went back to the room. He spent them sat on his bed, mostly, staring at the window. The space where the window should be.
He tried to think it through, but he was starting to suspect that thinking this through wouldn’t help. After all, this wasn’t a matter of logic. This was a matter of heart and mind.
He removed the chest again. Shifted it farther this time till he could squat by the door. It was low enough that he’d have to crawl through it, and sure enough, when he turned the handle, nothing happened. He shoved at it, hoping this was just a jammed door, not a locked door, but there was no give.
This had to be the locked door.
He went back out of the storeroom, dragging the box of paint. It was a nightmare to get it up the stairs, and it took most of the day before it was in his room. He went down then and rearranged the room. Put something else in front of the door—at least that way, he wouldn’t have to see it.
After all, there was nothing he could do right then. He didn’t have the key. Couldn’t get the key.
There was nothing he could do.
ON THE EMPTY window, Vanya painted the waterfall. It wasn’t as beautiful as it had been in real life. He tried, but he couldn’t capture that moment of perfect wonder when he’d looked up and seen it for the first time. But it was a nice painting. Beautiful, even. And while he painted it, Vanya didn’t have to think.
“WOULD YOU LIKE to come with me again today?”
Vanya looked up from the mess of his breakfast, suddenly aware that he’d been pushing the food around his plate instead of eating it.
“Come with you?”
“To see something,” Sasha clarified. He was frowning at Vanya. Of course, he was. Vanya had hardly been good company in the last week—the only time he wasn’t thinking about the door was when he was painting, and he didn’t dare tell Sasha about the painting unless it messed with the magic in some way, though it didn’t seem to. “To see something beautiful.”
To see something beautiful again. Oh, how Vanya wanted that.
“Will you show me where you normally go?”
“Not today,” Sasha said, and for a second, his voice was hard. “You’d be bored. Let me show you something better. Let me show you something that’ll make your heart sing.”
How was Vanya meant to say no to that?
Sasha rose and he rose too, leaving behind the barely tasted food. His stomach was twisting itself into knots, happiness and fear rolling together, and he wanted to run, hide again, but Sasha was reaching for him and it was simpler to slip his hand into Sasha’s. Simpler to let the other man guide him to the door.
Vanya closed his eyes against the light and clung to Sasha as they stepped through the door. When he opened his eyes again, they were somewhere else.
Vanya looked down.
Sand. He’d seen sand before, but somehow, it had never seemed this golden. Never seemed this rich. Vanya knelt and ran his hand through it. It was so warm. The grains flowed around his fingers like water. He lifted handfuls of it and let it run through his cupped fingers just to feel it.
“It’s lovely. You brought me here to see this?”
When Vanya looked up, Sasha was smiling at him. “Look around, Vanya.”
Vanya spun so fast he fell over onto his bottom. Then he gasped.
Ocean. He’d heard the word but never understood it. How could he understand it? How could his mind comprehend vastness on this scale? The blue of it trailing away as far as he could see. The waves spitting up angry foam as they rushed towards him only to lose all momentum and fall back in disgrace. The sheer scale and beauty of it.
He must have been sitting there, gaping, for some time because Sasha sat down next to him. Vanya
couldn’t help but lean against him. Couldn’t help but lean into Sasha’s side, lay a head on Sasha’s shoulder as, together, they watched the ocean.
VANYA PAINTED THE ocean on his next window. On the one after, he painted the sunset across the desert. In his final window, he painted the mountains, imposing and cold, but they hadn’t seemed that way with Sasha’s arms around him, keeping him close and safe.
In the evening, Sasha didn’t hide anymore. He sat with Vanya in the sitting room. They told stories. Sasha had so many stories. Vanya had fewer, and they weren’t as good, but Sasha listened intently anyway.
Vanya tried not to think about the door. Tried not to think about what he was doing—what he was going to do. Tried not to think about anything at all.
“SASHA, I’M FREEZING.”
Sasha chuckled, and Vanya was tempted to pull back to look up at his smile but then he’d risk losing the little warmth he’d gained here with his face pressed against Sasha’s arm.
“I thought you grew up in the snow.”
“I did,” Vanya complained. “But it wasn’t like this.”
Sasha brought the hand Vanya wasn’t already clutching around to rub at Vanya’s arm as though that might give him some more warmth.
Vanya smiled. It was possible that he was milking this, just a little. He was freezing, it was ice as far as he could see, but he had grown up in the snow. He’d been strapped into ice skates and thrown onto a frozen pond before he could walk. The cold was annoying but not debilitating.
It was just that this was easier. To pretend it was cold. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, but when his brain reminded him of what he had to do, that he shouldn’t be getting any closer to Sasha, he could say it’d been cold. He could justify his actions. He hadn’t wanted Sasha’s hand in his. Hadn’t wanted his face pressed against Sasha’s arm and Sasha pulling him close. It was just the cold.
Once Upon the Rainbow, Volume Two Page 9