Hart of Winter

by Parker Foye

  The sun finished setting. Luc stretched out into his other shape with a sickening crunch of bones he hoped no one overheard. He knocked the lightshade with his antlers and made light splash around the room until he managed to stop the movement with another careful nudge. Once the aftershocks released him, he stood shakily on four legs and eyed his reflection in Eloise’s mirror, where fairy lights still flickered around the frame. He stared for a long time, long enough that night drew fully across Les Menuires.

  Time and again when he was a kid, Luc wondered who had cursed the Dufour line. Who hated them enough and was able to wield such magic as to curse a family for generations beyond the death of fairy tales?

  As he stared at his reflection, Luc wondered for the first time whether it was ever intended as a curse at all.

  ROB called not long after Luc shuddered back into bipedal form and staggered into the kitchen to brew coffee. None of the guests were awake, and Eloise had been curled in bed with her giant purple headphones and an eye mask. Luc felt like he had a jumpstart on the world, just him and the dawn.

  Luc grabbed a mug, toed into a pair of sneakers, and stepped outside to answer the phone. There’d been a fresh dump of snow on the mountain overnight, according to his weather app, and he bit back a yelp as he discovered the village had been similarly gifted.

  “Everything okay?” Rob asked.

  Luc shook out his foot. “That isn’t how we should be answering calls to each other,” he said. “Everything’s fine, I discovered snow is cold. You?”

  “I knew snow was cold before, thanks.”

  Luc rolled his eyes and curled his toes in his sneakers to warm them. “Smartarse.”

  “Present and correct.”

  “What did you call for, anyway? I need to wash my hair later. Very important.”

  “You’re perfect as you are.”

  “Goof,” Luc said, slightly queasy to hear the fondness in his voice.

  On the other end of the line, Rob cleared his throat, and Luc imagined the expression on his kissable face. His chest did a funny thing Luc wanted to blame on the nearby magelights but suspected the cause lay at the other end of the phone. Taking a gulp of his coffee, Luc tried to blow a ring with his heated breath. No feelings to see here.

  Rob cleared his throat again. “Anyway. I called to ask if you wanted to go riding on the hill today? Or out to the village? We could go shopping for Solstice gifts. Or for coffee. Or whatever.” Rob groaned. “Basically I want to see you. Please say something and stop me babbling. This has to be against some Geneva Convention. Luc. Luc.”

  Relenting, Luc moved his hand from over his mouth and let Rob hear him cackle. His laughter filled the air with his steamy breath, and he imagined it floating up like a signal Rob might be able to see from his hotel room.

  “I’m working today, but I’d lo—I’d like to see you. Shopping would be good.” An idea struck him, and Luc grinned. “Wear something you can move in.”

  “Wear something I can…. What’re you planning?”

  “Nope. It’s my turn to plan a mysterious date. If that’s okay?”

  “That’s perfect,” Rob said, sounding almost as soppy as Luc had earlier.

  “Great. I’ll text the details.”

  After another few minutes they hung up, and Luc knocked back the rest of his coffee. He returned the sneakers where he found them, hoping their owner wouldn’t wake up before they dried, and snuck back into his room. He had plans to set in motion.

  Chapter Ten

  ROB spent the morning losing an argument. Considering the other players in the debate were Olivia and his mother, the situation wasn’t unusual.

  They were in his mother’s suite, where she had a more impressive desk than the one-step-above-Ikea thing in Rob’s room. They’d dragged the desk in front of the balcony and arranged themselves in front of the window, as Olivia demanded a view. Acquiescing meant Rob had to squint at the laptop to get any idea of Olivia’s reactions, giving her a distinct advantage. Rob suspected that was the point. Still, his mother had a superior view of the piste, and her balcony wrapped around; evidently she had splashed out. She even had a complete hotel stationery set, from which Rob had purloined a pencil to fidget with. He tried to spin the pencil on his thumb as Olivia wrapped up her argument.

  “Basically I think it’s a bad idea,” Oliva finished by saying, as she’d been saying for the past twenty minutes in various iterations.

  In response Rob swung back on his chair, holding on to the edge of the desk for balance, and leaned into the camera on his laptop to give Olivia a close-up as he stuck out his tongue. He blew a raspberry.

  “Very mature” came through the speakers.

  “That’s right—Gah!” Rob was interrupted when his mother yanked his chair onto four legs again. He almost lost the pencil. “Mam!”

  His mother didn’t look up from whatever she was doing on her phone. She’d managed to find a corner in the shade, of course. “Safety first.”

  There was Marta Lentowicz, the safest person in any room. Rob would’ve rolled his eyes, but she would know. He crossed his arms instead and pulled a face at Olivia, who grinned back with mirth dancing in her eyes.

  “I saw that,” his mother said, tapping something into her phone.

  The laptop speakers crackled with Olivia’s laughter. When she collected herself, she resumed the serious tone she’d had since Rob called with his plan. “Honestly, Rob, I’m not sure this is the right decision. Although I’m sure you’re hardly the first in this family to chance into a cursebreak—”

  His mother looked up. “He’s the first in this room.” When Rob winced, she gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry. That didn’t help, did it?”

  Rob shook his head as something curdled in his stomach. His mother cut an intimidating figure, and mostly that worked in their favor, as cursebreaking was a competitive and dangerous occupation, but it meant sometimes her business responses came out of her mouth first. Rob was old enough to recognize the instinct, but he hadn’t always been. He played the pencil through his fingers to distract himself.

  “Sorry,” she said again. “I meant that it’s an unusual circumstance to be in. That’s all.”

  “Exactly,” Olivia chimed in, taking the conversational reins as Rob faltered. “And doubly so with the show. You know I’d support you, but I’m not sure this is the right move.”

  Resisting the urge to stick out his tongue again, Rob sighed instead. He’d done both sides of the conversation often enough in his head that he didn’t care to repeat them with an audience. “I’m not going to lie to everybody. That’s a shi—crappy thing to do. But I don’t want to fu—screw everyone over either. Let’s move on from whether I’m going to do this and discuss the best way of mitigating fallout, okay?” Rob spoke quickly before he could second-guess himself, and when he finished, he sat back heavily, heart rabbiting in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d voiced such a strong opinion about his life.

  Considering he was twenty-four, he figured it was about time.

  Olivia hummed, a thoughtful noise Rob associated with imminent success thanks to the times they’d spent researching together over the years. “The simplest thing to do, then, is give them something else to bring in whatever ratings they think they’d get with the other story. Because we need those ratings. I have plans, remember?”

  Rob nodded. Sweat beaded in his hairline. “I remember. I definitely don’t want to be the reason your world domination is delayed.”

  “Damn right you don’t.”

  “Then I suppose we have only one question.”

  Rob slid his gaze along to his mother after she spoke. She rested her chin on the tips of her steepled fingers, abandoning the phone, and considered him like he was a problem to solve. Rob found the expression comforting and thought that might be a little messed up.

  “What question?” he asked, stepping into the trap she’d baited.

  Onscreen, Olivia tried to stay the tra
p. “Aunt Marta—”

  “The question of what else you have they might be interested in showing the world?”

  Rob heard a sound after his mother spoke. When he looked down, he saw he’d snapped the pencil in two.

  Curling his hand around one of the pieces tightly enough he could feel splinters digging into his palm, Rob glanced at Olivia. “If you’ll excuse us, I’ll call you later. I have to speak to my mother.”

  “Are you—Okay. Text me.”

  Rob closed the laptop and set it at right angles with the table. He’d feel bad about dropping Olivia later, he knew, but that was a problem for the future. Currently his problems were more along the lines of matricide and therefore occupied substantial capacity of his frontal cortex.

  Laptop neatly positioned, Rob scooched his chair around to face his mother. She’d set aside her phone to watch him the way she watched prey in Bavaria or books in Lindisfarne. Focused and curious. Marta was the sharpest blade in the family armory, as anyone in the business would agree, but Rob never aimed to be a weapon. He considered himself a work in progress; he was improving at weaving, not bad at snowboarding, and played a mean game of Jenga. Everything else rated a solid C-plus.

  If anything, Rob wanted to be a shield.

  He set down the two parts of the broken pencil and met his mother’s eyes. “I’m not giving up Luc. That’s not a thing that’s going to happen.”

  “Not even for family?”

  “No.”

  Letting out a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. Her smile came slow and stayed small, but the pride in her eyes warmed Rob to his toes.

  “Well done,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

  Whiteout. Rob floundered for a moment, unsure how to respond. Was he supposed to have taken advantage of Luc for his own gain? Wasn’t he supposed to choose family first? He wished he hadn’t broken the pencil, because having something to focus on might’ve helped structure his thoughts.

  “I don’t—I’m confused,” he managed to say.

  “As I told your friend, we all have secrets. We all have things we wish to protect. I’m pleased you have something you feel that way about.” She grinned, sharp as the blade she wore in her hair. “Maybe you’ll break that cursebox after all.”

  “Maybe I—Wait, is that a clue?” Rob had been working on his coming-of-age cursebox for over a decade.

  She shrugged. Rob had an urge to run back to his room and start making notes but managed to stop himself. Focus, Lentowicz. He set the problem aside—it had waited ten years, so another few days wouldn’t hurt—and leaned back in his chair.

  “If not Luc, then, what do you think we should do?” he asked.

  “I’ve been wondering for a while if it isn’t time the Lentowiczs start branching out,” his mother said. She leaned forward. “Tell me more about your weaving.”

  ROB spotted Luc in front of the festive tree and watched him for a minute. Thanks to Solstice getting closer, many people were admiring the huge tree and pushing against the fence for a closer look, but Luc seemed to occupy a world of his own. He wore the wool coat that gave him wide shoulders and long lines and turned heads wherever he went. Rob didn’t know if Luc realized, but in the coat he walked like he was ten feet tall, with the dick to match.

  Rob had fallen into some serious fortune. Luc was beautiful and playful and had a stubborn streak and a crackle of magic at his core, and somehow Rob had managed to con him into kisses. If there was such thing as a Solstice fairy, and Rob definitely wasn’t dismissing the possibility, they’d truly blessed Rob for the season.

  Tugging his clothes straight and doing a quick breath-freshness check, Rob touched the charm on his necklace for luck and made his way through the crowd.

  “Waiting for someone?” he called once he was close enough.

  “Rob!”

  Luc whirled around, a grin already curving his lips. He leaned in, and Rob presented his cheek for the exchange of kisses, feeling less awkward the more he became used to it.

  “I’m glad you came,” Luc said. Two spots of color were high on his cheeks, and he ducked his chin behind the shield of his scarf, giving him a mischievous appearance.

  “Glad to be here,” Rob managed to say, his heart melting in his chest in spite of the cold. Something had settled between them after Rob learned about Luc’s curse and told him about himself in turn. Like the tentative thread linking them had knitted with steel.

  Beaming, Luc took Rob’s hand in his icy grip and drew him close, positioning them to view the tree together. Rob let himself be moved and tucked their joined hands into his jacket pocket once they were settled. Frostbite wasn’t romantic.

  “Look at this tree! Isn’t it something? Everyone’s been working on it,” Luc said, his eyes shining with the reflection of the lights. He waggled his eyebrows. “Size queen or what?”

  Snorting at the comment, Rob braced against the short fence ringing the tree as he craned his head back to get a good look at it in all its glory. Strings of small multicolored magelights wrapped the uppermost branches, some occasionally floating away from the pack before charms pulled them into place. Lower down, where the branches became fuller, the lights were electrical, and Rob could see where wires trailed into an adapter at the base of the tree. Hundreds of baubles decorated the tips of the branches in a mishmash of color and style, and the ones on the lower branches appeared to be handmade paper snowflakes made with varying degrees of skill. Rob squinted at them, wondering if they had text on them or if he was imagining things.

  Luc nudged Rob’s shoulder with his own. “So? What do you think?”

  Rob considered his response. All over the tree, craft and non-craft decorations displayed different parts of the Les Menuires community that had come together to create and share it. But Rob would never have seen the tree if he hadn’t met the man standing beside him. He’d have left Les Menuires after a few days of chasing powder and hangovers and likely spent Solstice worrying himself into an ulcer as he continued to lie to his family.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said finally and squeezed Luc’s fingers, trying to warm Luc’s cold hand with his own. “Thank you for bringing me.” He cleared his throat. “What’s the plan for today, then?”

  “Well, first….” Luc brushed a kiss onto Rob’s lips, darting back before Rob could deepen it. He grinned. “I needed to do that, and I’m not sorry. Second, we’re going shopping. Are you wearing your shopping shoes?”

  Rob didn’t know there were shoes specifically for shopping. He knew he definitely didn’t own any. He considered his boots. “I’m wearing these ones?”

  “Size?”

  “Nine,” Rob answered automatically. He frowned. “Why?”

  “No ulterior motive whatsoever,” Luc answered breezily. He withdrew their joined hands from Rob’s pocket and tugged him away from the tree and toward the shops. Rob fell into step beside him. “There’s a couple of things I want to pick up for Eloise and Amandine, but we won’t take long. Let me….” Luc fished his phone out of his pocket and managed to send a message one-handed while navigating himself and Rob through the crowds at the same time. In the snow.

  Rob wondered if curses gave people superpowers.

  Luc led them toward the covered shops, which had been decorated since the last time Rob paid attention. The wooden panels were stenciled with a floral pattern in green and red, which made the whole place seem cozier, while the occasional spray of silver caught the light. Rob could smell something delicious, a cinnamon and chocolate scent that reminded him of a cake his grandfather used to bake. They always had it after Solstice dinner. He wondered who’d be making it that year.

  “Almost there,” Luc said, breaking into Rob’s thoughts. “Anything you wanted to get, by the way? Souvenirs? You could find a tiny marmot on something suitably tacky.”

  “There’s marmots around here?”

  “I’ve never seen one, but there’s certainly enough tourist tat to make y
ou think so. Maybe it’s like a tulpa—Anyway, here we are. I’ll only be a minute.”

  Rob hadn’t been paying attention to where they were walking, more interested in Luc, and when he realized where they stood, he couldn’t stop the heat rising to his face. They were outside the boulangerie where they’d almost been done for public indecency.

  “Recognize where we are?” Luc asked because he existed to torment Rob.

  “I think my arse print is probably still on the window. Let’s not look too closely,” Rob muttered. The night replayed in vivid detail behind his eyes, hopefully more lurid than the actual event, since in his head he’d been a strong breeze from dropping to his knees and getting Luc’s cock in his mouth.

  Eyeing Luc and the mischievous way he bit his lip in a deliberate attempt to rile Rob, Rob supposed his recollection mightn’t be too far from the truth.

  He cleared his throat. “What are we boulanging, then?”

  Luc winced at the mangled French, exactly as Rob intended. He rolled his eyes when Rob laughed, and Rob had to make a fist with his free hand to prevent himself from reeling Luc in by his lapels and kissing the sarcasm from his lush lips. Rob wanted to know how Luc tasted when he was joyful, or playful, or coy. He wanted to be known in turn.

  “Flesh,” Luc said.

  Rob would’ve sworn his brain made an audible screech as it switched tracks. “W—what. What?”

  Luc sniggered, the bastard. He pointed to the shop next door to the bakery. “I need to check the order for tomorrow. Give me a second?”

  Rob’s hand felt cold without Luc’s in it. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he waited, listening as Luc spoke with the butcher. Luc sounded sexy in French, even when—presumably—speaking about “flesh.”

  Rob snorted and shook his head. What a nerd.

  He let his gaze wander over the crowd. People were wrapped in bright layers, some sparkling with glitter and laden with shopping bags or using spells to carry awkward bundles. Music piped over the speakers as a low hum of chatter filled the air. The air crackled with festive energy laced with the fevered edge of panic-buying that seemed to affect people all over the world during the holidays; Rob found it comforting to know he couldn’t escape last-minute shopping, even in the Alps.