Once Upon the Rainbow, Volume Two

by Jennifer Cosgrove

  After all, this was how the story worked. The prince defeated the wizard. Vanya was being handed it. Sasha even wanted it.

  But no, he couldn’t.

  Sasha pulled open the door when Vanya was still on the steps. He spared one glance over his shoulder before stepping into the snow.

  Vanya ran down the stairs. He stormed outside in frustration. He knew it would only end with him back in the hallway, but he still had to try.

  Only it didn’t.

  Only Vanya stepped onto a doorstep he remembered, though only just. The doorstep he’d cowered on all those nights ago when he’d first arrived here.

  The doorstep that he could walk out onto and go home.

  This was not the way Sasha had left.

  He went into the house and shut the door. Waited a second. Opened it again. The same thing. The way home.

  He closed the door.

  Conspicuously, in a space that had been empty before, sat a full pack. The key lay on top of it.

  “No,” Vanya said. He turned and walked into the house.

  Sasha would come back soon, and they’d be able to talk about this like adults.

  Sasha did not come back soon.

  IT TOOK FOUR days, but eventually, Vanya took out the key. He’d hidden it in a drawer in the study so he didn’t have to see it. Didn’t have to think about it. He’d seen and thought about it anyway. Hadn’t thought about anything else.

  He’d tried to paint another window but hadn’t been able to. Hadn’t been able to clearly visualise anywhere. He’d tried to take himself back to the waterfall, the first time they’d been out, but he couldn’t. Had Sasha been thinking about dying then? Had he been hoping, even then, that Vanya would kill him?

  The thought made Vanya sick to his stomach. Even now, when he’d been begged to do it, he just couldn’t think about killing a man.

  Still, after four days, he took out the key.

  He moved the things he’d put in the way of the door instead of the art chest. Slid the key into the lock and twisted it. The door went easily, sliding open as soon as he touched it. He had to crawl in, but once inside, the room opened out. Not big, but big enough to stand in. Big enough to walk around.

  The chest sat in the middle of the room. Vanya knelt by it for a long time, running his hands over it. Sasha couldn’t open this. Sasha couldn’t do this himself.

  Sasha had tried.

  Vanya very carefully opened the chest. The room was immediately filled with the sweet smell of fresh hay. There, in the chest, in the hay, lay an egg.

  It was the size of a chicken’s egg and pale with brown splotches. He reached out and touched it, and it was warm. He lifted it up as gently as he could and cradled it to his chest. Sasha’s life, literally cupped in the palm of his hands. The egg was pulsing faintly. Warmer and colder in regular time, like a heartbeat.

  Maybe Vanya was being selfish. He didn’t want to be a killer, but Sasha wanted to die. And on some level, Vanya understood that. Understood what it was to be alone.

  He’d been so busy being surrounded by people, he’d never realised how alone he was. A father who shunned him, brothers who beat him, a castle full of staff who watched him carefully for his first mistake so they could report him to the king. None of them compared to a moment of conversation with Sasha.

  But, at this point, they weren’t alone. Neither of them was alone anymore.

  He just needed to make Sasha understand that.

  Vanya laid the egg back in the chest. He left the lid open and the door unlocked, though he didn’t think the magic would let them stay that way. Then he went upstairs to find his handkerchief and the eyelash that lay inside it.

  THE FRONT DOOR slammed open and closed again, and Vanya was on his feet in seconds though he knew he was only going to be disappointed. Still, he ran through to the hall.

  Vasilisa stood there in a gown that looked as though it cost more than Vanya’s kingdom. She looked around and then, when she saw him, raised a slim eyebrow and smiled. He took a hasty step back as she moved towards him, and she stopped too, the smile slipping from her lips.

  “You have killed him, yes? I left you everything you needed.”

  Vanya felt himself blush a little as he shook his head. Vasilisa sighed. “I think we’d better sit down.”

  Somehow, although this was his house, he ended up following her through into the sitting room. She settled easily into Sasha’s chair by the fire, and Vanya sat down across from her where he normally sat. She was poised, elegant. He supposed that, if he’d been able to do what the story said he should, she’d have made a brilliant queen. Because a third son who went on an adventure always became a king at the end.

  As much as being a queen would have suited her, he was quite sure being a king wouldn’t have suited him. He was even surer that she didn’t suit him.

  “So, you found the writing under the mattress?”

  “Yes,” Vanya said, bristling a little. After all, she’d told him exactly where it was. He wasn’t incompetent. "I found it and read it. I found the door. I got the key. I even opened the chest and took the egg out.”

  “But you didn’t kill him?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  Vanya paused. He watched her. She looked curious, but not angry. Not yet. Clearly, she hadn’t expected this, which made him wonder if she’d paid any attention at all to the time they had spent together. Though she had been a frog, so…

  “I love him.”

  She blinked, then relaxed. Somehow, she seemed to melt into something more human. More approachable. She crossed her legs and gestured in such a way that the magic apparently knew meant she wanted a pot of tea.

  “I have to say, I didn’t expect this. Are you sure you love him?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is evil, you know. He locks princesses away. He’s burnt down towns because someone offended him. He has no compunctions about killing. Do you really love him?”

  “Yes,” Vanya said. “I don’t pretend to know everything about him, but I know what he is to me. I know he’s kind and patient. I know that he’s tried hard to make me happy. I think he tried hard to make the princesses happy, too. The place is full of things they wanted that he brought here for them. I know that he’s lonely. I know that I was lonely before I had him.”

  “Good.” Vasilisa smiled. “I did wonder. I didn’t think you loved me, and a story has to have love to work, after all. So, what do you need me for?”

  “He left.” Vanya looked down, worried at his lip with his teeth. Honesty. “He asked me to kill him. Maybe I should. It’s what everyone expects. But I can’t. I won’t. But he asked me to do it and he left. It’s been days and I don’t know how to find him, just that he’s out there on his own somewhere.”

  Vasilisa looked concerned at that. She frowned and leant forward.

  “You really won’t kill him? He wants to die.”

  “He says that…”

  “He wants to. Trust me, Vanya, I’ve known him for longer than I care to think about. He’s ready. He’s made his peace. But you know how stories are. Being ready isn’t enough. You have to follow the rules.”

  “A wizard has to be killed by a prince?”

  “See, now you’re beginning to understand.”

  “You did this? All of this.”

  “Well, yes and no,” Vasilisa said with a shrug. “We didn’t factor in for you. We thought you’d be the kind of third son who wouldn’t have a problem with killing. Most third sons wouldn’t. But maybe we were wrong to try to force the story. Sasha and I, we don’t look it, but we’re both so old. Maybe too old. Maybe we can’t see the other ways. The other stories. So, I ask you once more. What do you need me for?”

  To bring him back.

  Only no, Vanya was beginning to realise that wouldn’t work. There had to be a story, after all. It wasn’t going to be the story his father wanted, not the one where the brave prince rescued his princess, killed the wizard, and came
back victorious. It was going to be another story. One about how love wins in the end, even when it seems like it won’t. Even when it would be easier not to let it win.

  “I need you to tell me where to find him.”

  “Good answer,” Vasilisa said. She rose with a swirl of her skirt and took him to the door. The pack was by the door still, and Vanya stopped to pick it up on his way out. Then he paused. He ran in, collected what he needed, and went back to meet Vasilisa on the steps.

  He would learn from some of his mistakes, at least.

  The doorstep was the one through which he’d arrived at the house. He let the door swing shut behind him.

  “It’s a long journey,” Vasilisa said, holding her hand up to shield herself from the glare of the sun. “Too far to go on foot, but I believe you’re owed some favours.”

  “I am?”

  “On the way here, you didn’t eat a hare, a bear, or a dragon.”

  “Well, no,” Vanya agreed. He’d seen the creatures, that was true, but of course, he hadn’t eaten them. He’d have had to kill them with his bare hands. Tear the flesh from their bones. He couldn’t have done that. “But not eating someone doesn’t mean they owe me a favour.”

  “Sometimes it does,” Vasilisa said with a shrug. “In the right kind of story.”

  One by one, the animals emerged from the forest. The hare he hadn’t eaten gifted him with speed, the bear with strength, the dragon with the ability to fly over water, and Vanya wasn’t sure how he was meant to have eaten the dragon anyway, but he thanked each animal in turn.

  Then he turned from the house, and Vasilisa checked his pack was secure, and ran as fast as the hare.

  SASHA WAS SITTING on the edge of a cliff.

  As soon as Vanya saw him, he stopped running. The momentum carried him on for a while, but eventually he shuddered to a halt, gasping for breath, only a handful of steps from Sasha.

  Sasha looked up. He was shocked. “Vanya?”

  “I love you,” Vanya said, the words tumbling out between breaths, then sat down. He let the pack fall from his shoulders, then shoved it to the side. He was too cold and too tired, but he lay back in the snow and let himself breathe for a minute.

  He would be very glad if he never had to run like a hare again. Though he was curious as to whether the powers would stay with him when he reached the happily ever after part of the story. If he reached the happily ever after part of the story.

  He closed his eyes, focused on his breath until it was slow and steady, and when he opened his eyes again, Sasha was leaning over him. Vanya lifted a hand to stroke down Sasha’s cheek. He was here. He was real. Vanya had made it.

  “Vanya,” Sasha said, reaching down to touch Vanya, to trail a finger along his lips. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I love you,” Vanya said. He forced himself to sit up. “I love you, and this isn’t the kind of story where I kill the person I love. I’m sorry, Sasha. I know it’s what you wanted from me. But I couldn’t.”

  “I understand,” Sasha said. “I should have known. I suppose I didn’t really expect you to. You were always too good. I thought, maybe, a sense of obligation would make you, but…”

  “It won’t,” Vanya said. “I won’t kill you.”

  Sasha nodded. Then he leant in and pressed a kiss to Vanya’s lips. Soft and so gentle and Vanya returned it. Sasha was so cold. Goodness knows how long he’d spent sat out there by then, unable to die from the cold or the hunger but probably suffering from them anyway. Vanya pushed himself into Sasha’s arms to give some of his warmth. Sasha welcomed him. Pulled him closer. Settled them against each other.

  Oh, to have this forever. Vanya would do just about anything to have this forever.

  Vanya pulled back. Sasha watched him. He looked tired. Resigned.

  “I do love you,” Sasha said. “In a way, I’m glad you can’t do it. I didn’t expect you. I thought you’d be surly. Upset. That you’d trick the key out of me and go. Instead, you smiled for me. You made me feel again, Vanya. It feels like so long since I felt anything.”

  “Would a life with me be such a curse, then?”

  “No,” Sasha sighed. “A blessing. But then you’ll grow old. And I’ll stay by you as you do. Watch as you ache. As your body fails until, in the end, I have to bury you and I’ll still be here. Deathless. I’ve buried lovers before, Vanya. I’ve buried children. Grandchildren. I’m tired.”

  Vanya nodded. He understood tired.

  He leant back in the circle of Sasha’s arms. Snagged his pack. He’d hoped not to do this. Had tried not to think about it. But it was the right thing.

  He wasn’t selfish enough not to do this.

  He drew the egg out of the pack. It was wrapped in layers of protective cloth, but when Sasha understood what it was, his eyes widened. He watched as Vanya cradled it in his hands.

  For a second, it lay there between them, then Vanya offered it up.

  “Vanya?”

  “I can’t kill you,” Vanya said. “But you can. I won’t stop you. I love you. I wish you’d stay here with me, but I’d never want to hurt you. If this is what you need, then here, it’s yours.”

  Vanya didn’t dare look at Sasha. Didn’t want to know what he might see in Sasha’s eyes. Instead, he stared at the egg. So fragile and he’d carried it so far. Sasha’s frost-bitten hands came to cover it. Both of their hands pressed together over the warm pulse of the egg.

  “Vanya. Look at me?”

  Vanya did.

  Sasha looked shattered. He leant in, and Vanya moved to meet him. Pressed their lips together in one last kiss. He couldn’t help the tears that spilled from his eyes. He didn’t want this.

  Between their hands, the egg grew hotter. Hotter and hotter and hotter. Vanya gasped into Sasha’s mouth but didn’t dare pull away. Didn’t dare end the kiss. Between their hands, the egg shattered.

  Vanya moved his hands up quickly and clutched at Sasha’s. Held on to him as tightly as he could.

  Eventually, he pulled back from the kiss. Sasha’s eyes were closed, but he looked the same as he had before he’d touched the egg. In Vanya’s hands, his hands were warm. He looked warm. He looked healthy.

  “Sasha?”

  Sasha opened his eyes. He blinked.

  “I’m still here?”

  “You’re still here,” Vanya confirmed. “I think maybe we broke it?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. Only…”

  Sasha stood. He took a step, another. He turned, then pulled the knife from his belt. Quickly, before Vanya could stop him, he made a small cut on his arm.

  Vanya hissed. He pushed himself to his feet and ran over, then grabbed Sasha’s arm and looked down at the cut.

  “It isn’t healing,” Sasha whispered.

  “Of course not,” Vanya said. There were bandages in his pack, though the cut looked shallow enough that it didn’t need it. Still, best to keep it clean. He turned back to the pack. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because it would have healed. It should have healed. Before. But it hasn’t. Vanya, it hasn’t healed.”

  “So, what does—” But Vanya didn’t get to finish his sentence as Sasha stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. He lifted him from the ground and laughed and spun him around, and Vanya could only lean forward into Sasha’s chest and hold on.

  “Sasha. Sasha. What’s happening?”

  “I think I know,” Sasha said, setting him down again. “I think it’s because you gave it to me. Because you really meant it.”

  “But, what’s happened?”

  “Vanya. You’ve given me back my death.”

  Given back his death. So he wasn’t Deathless anymore. So he was mortal. So he’d live. So they could grow old together. So they could be together.

  Oh.

  “Sasha,” Vanya gasped, throwing himself into Sasha’s arms. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. No words that captured the vastness of the hope and joy inside of him. Instead, he kissed
Sasha. Kissed him again and again.

  Kissed him like, this time, he really might get to keep kissing him for the rest of his life.

  About Emmalynn Spark

  Emmalynn Spark enjoys writing, fairytales, reading, cakes and ice hockey, not necessarily in that order. She is currently studying for an MA in creative writing.

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/EmmalynnSpark

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/emmalynnspark

  At Her Service

  K.S. Trenten

  EVER SINCE I could remember, my life revolved around my mistress. I did my desperate best to serve her, even though I wasn’t very good at it.

  “Fetch me my slippers.” She waved a slender hand idly in the direction of the closet, keeping the other on the leather-bound book she held.

  For a moment, I wondered if my lady had swindled another secret history from a stuffy order of monks.

  A closer look revealed it as the Lady Ariella’s own record of the household accounts. She never entrusted her money to anyone else.

  Eager to please, I opened the closet.

  A cascade of all kinds of slippers, scarves, and gowns came pouring out of the wardrobe, knocking me to the ground.

  The noise distracted my mistress enough to look up.

  I knew better than to try to meet her gaze. The temptation to do so was always there, along with the fear.

  “Cinders.” Ariella never yelled my name. She didn’t need to. The sharpness of her voice was far more jarring than any shout.

  “Yes, milady?” I tried to make my manner as humble as possible, yet there was something softly challenging in my voice.

  Perhaps I simply enjoyed the sound of my lady’s own entirely too much.

  My mistress had noted that my manner seemed to invite punishment or attention. She’d chided me ever so gently for it, smiling a strange smile.

  Perhaps she found the challenge amusing.

  “Why is my closet such a mess?” She watched me with intense, dark blue eyes that generated a heat, shimmering in the air between us.

  I could almost feel it, taste it.

  I swallowed, extricating myself from a couple of gowns and a bunch of scarves wrapped around my waist. I’m not certain how I managed to get tangled up in them.