FAIRYTALE Read online

  Killian followed her gaze. “Really? I thought those were just rumors.”

  “Oh no. It’s quite true. Do you see that statue?” Merav shook her head and pointed to a tall statue of two mermaids entwined. “It is made of iron, as are many that surround this castle. They are a safeguard against the many evil fairies that lurk in the furthest edges of the forests that sometimes dare to come too close. King Ambrose has set up many such things to protect themselves from the dangers of magical creatures, especially after what happened a few years ago.”

  Killian examined the statue, and he couldn’t help but notice that one of the mermaids looked like she was crying. “What happened a few years ago?”

  Merav paused, her forehead crinkling as she stared back at him. A surge of heat tickled Killian’s neck. He quickly cleared his throat. “What was that about fairies?”

  “Yes, they can be quite malicious if provoked, but the iron works well in keeping them at bay. What you should be wary of are the Grimbeasts.”

  Killian tore his gaze from the statue, raising an eyebrow. “Grimbeasts?”

  Merav quivered and kept walking. “Dark creatures,” she said. “Shapeshifters of sorts, often taking on the forms of wolves or other such predators, but with the intelligence and wit of a man. It is rumored that a few have learned how to pass through the warlocks’ shield, so it’s wise to be cautious.”

  He glanced back at her. “Is this private enough for what you wish to discuss?”

  “Yes.”

  “Prince Killian,” she began, as though she had memorized what she was about to say. “Six months ago, I sent you a letter. It was in regard to an alliance I have been building, and I hope you have had the opportunity to read it over.”

  Killian’s eyes widened. A letter? He wracked his brain. A letter from Empress…what was her name again?

  He cleared his throat and smiled. “Unfortunately, our post system has been lagging as of late, and with my upcoming engagement I’ve been a bit preoccupied. I’m sure it will be waiting for me once I return home, and I’ll be certain to read it right away.”

  “I have no doubt. But while I have you, perhaps we could speak about matters now.”

  Killian forced another smile. He wondered if talking to foreign diplomats would ever become interesting. “Certainly.”

  She stepped directly in front of him, stopping him from continuing down the path. Although she had the faint crinkles of someone who laughed far too much around her eyes, she was not smiling now.

  “Prince Killian, I am sure you are very aware of the rising threat from the south.”

  Killian gazed at her. This was not what he had expected, and a creeping sense of dread crawled across his skin. Of course he knew about the war in Trasall. Every person of influence, magic, or science did. For years a civil dispute tore apart what was once the leading nation in science and medicine, leaving it little more than the empty husk of what it once was.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then you understand the urgency in coming together in peaceful unity.”

  “Empress, it’s terrible what’s happening in Trasall. But years of attempting to help and placate the fighting has proven useless. Both sides have made it perfectly clear that they don’t want our help. This is their fight, not ours.”

  “It might be very soon.”

  Killian frowned. “How so?”

  The empress glanced to the side, so quick that Killian almost didn’t notice it. She leaned in by a hair. “There is a rumor that Queen Elena has shipped her only son to Ibul.”

  Killian’s eyes widened. Ibul was a tiny, dry island down by the southern border. A globally neutral space, they had very little in the way of military defense. “An invasion?”

  “That is what many believe. Prince Killian, if the Loyalists succeed in seizing Ibul, they will have the potential to effect change far beyond their borders. Way of life across the globe may be altered, and use of magic as we know it may disappear forever.”

  Her words settled, but Killian couldn’t grasp on to them. He admittedly knew very little about the inner workings of Trasall or their military, brushing it aside as nothing much more than a hostile jungle land. That’s all it had ever been before.

  “With all due respect, Empress, it’s impossible to say if this rumor even has any merit to it.”

  “I understand your hesitation. But the rising tension among neighboring countries absolutely poses a threat, not to mention the magical undercurrents of our world we know so little about. There is so little we understand, and a potential power to upturn everything about our way of life. Do you see the importance of this?”

  He shifted, trying not to look too uncomfortable beneath her gaze.

  Then he spotted the dash of black hair, just behind a row of rosebushes on the other side of the garden. Fedya stepped out onto the pathway, and Killian immediately straightened up. A warm, jittering flurry surged through his chest, and his fingertips gave an involuntary twitch of excitement.

  But he was too far away to call out, and Fedya hadn’t even seen him.

  “Prince Killian?”

  His head jerked back to Merav. She looked at him expectantly and he realized he had absolutely no idea what she had just asked him. His mouth opened, but he could think of absolutely nothing.

  No. That wasn’t true.

  He thought of Fedya walking away.

  “I am so sorry, but I really have to be going.”

  He started backing away, trying to half bow in apology.

  “I just need a day or two to think it over. Perhaps the letter was packed with my things and I can read it over tonight.”

  “Prince Killian, can we please discuss this now?”

  “I…”

  Fedya was already walking back inside, and Killian’s eyes widened as his gaze shot back to the Merav.

  “We will talk about this soon. You have my word. I know this is very important. It was so nice to meet you, please, excuse me.”

  He clumsily bowed again as he backed away, and before she could speak he turned and rushed up the steps. His heart raced in a thrilling sort of way as he made it to the ballroom. Fedya was already wandering out, heading toward the hall that led to the conservatoire. Killian quickened his pace.

  “Duke Fedya? A moment?”

  Fedya stopped and turned as he heard his name, but as he saw Killian he hesitated, visibly entertaining the thought of walking away. Killian quickly waved, and Fedya merely stared back.

  “Yes, Prince Killian? What can I help you with?”

  “Please, just Killian is fine. You’re up early this morning.”

  Fedya glanced away, a half-hearted attempt at concealing his rolled eyes. He drew in a deep, exasperated breath, but Killian could only focus on Fedya’s chest as it puffed up and strained just a bit against the thick, knitted fabric of his top. Like the night before, his hair was pulled back in a small, tight ponytail atop his head, but today he wore no heavy coat, only a simple tunic that clung to his thick frame.

  “Yes. The hours here are very different from home,” Fedya said before shooting Killian a quizzical look. “I take it you also are adjusting?”

  “Oh. No.” Killian shrugged in a way he hoped looked nonchalant. “The music just kept me up all night. Apparently, they’re not allowed to stop playing.”

  “I see.” Fedya nodded slowly, though he seemed to be having a difficult time holding Killian’s gaze. He looked over his shoulder. “Please excuse me, I must be going.”

  Fedya turned sharply away and started walking down the hall. A spark of panic flashed inside Killian.

  “Wait, please.” He darted after him, cutting off Fedya’s path, and this time Fedya didn’t conceal a frown as he drew back. Killian’s face flushed with heat, but he swallowed and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I hoped I would see you again.”

  Fedya looked guarded, and he paused, eyeing Killian wit
h hesitation. “Why?”

  Killian’s smile grew, but he quickly tamed it down. “Fedya, I would like to ask if you would please join me for a dance at tomorrow night’s ball.”

  “What?” A bout of panic flashed across Fedya’s eyes. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

  Killian hesitated, then with utmost care he reached out, offering his hand. “Isn’t that why we dance? To meet new people?”

  Fedya’s eyebrows furrowed, staring at Killian’s outstretched fingers. For a moment his hand twitched at his side. “I don’t know…”

  A trickle of hope lingered in Fedya’s words. It sounded just like the night before, easy and maybe just the smallest bit daring. Courage welled in Killian’s chest and he leaned in by a hair. Then Fedya quickly shook his head and pulled back all the way. “No. Thank you. I don’t dance.”

  Even as Killian’s fingers yearned for Fedya’s, he forced himself not to reach out again after him, tucking his hands inside his pockets instead. “Then at least allow me to return you your coat.”

  “Keep it.” Fedya briskly started walking away again. “Call it a gift.”

  In a moment, Fedya had vanished from sight. Killian remained on his step, a hollow tug jerking in the pit of his stomach. He inhaled deep, but would not allow himself to sigh.

  He heard footsteps approaching from behind, and he turned just in time to see Melchior and Annette approaching, their twin smiles a familiar comfort. Annette immediately approached and lightly pinched Killian on the arm.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you in the dining hall all morning! I had to sit and watch Duchess Big Mouth consume her own body weight in kippers all by myself.”

  “Sorry.” Killian tried to grin, his thoughts still wafting down the hall after Fedya. “I got caught up in some things.”

  “Well, you better make it up to me tomorrow evening. You know they’re having that party in the east wing everyone keeps talking about.”

  Killian’s grin faltered, Fedya’s rejection still ringing in his ears. He averted his attention to Melchior, throwing an arm around his shoulder and giving him a jostle.

  “Melchior, you’re actually awake!”

  “Yes.” Melchior was still glaring at his sister. “Well, my duchess was hungry.”

  “I swear.” Annette rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t that woman ever stop eating?”

  “Perhaps you wouldn’t be so cranky if you got something to eat yourself. I told you to grab one of those sugared buns they were serving.”

  “So I can become as pleasantly plump as your wife?”

  Melchior wrinkled his nose. “And still not even half as beautiful. Go.”

  Annette glared back as she turned on her heel with an exaggerated sniff and headed up the stairs to the dining hall. Killian couldn’t help but grin as he watched her go and followed Melchior out to the veranda.

  “So I did a little digging on your mystery man.”

  Killian tried not to look too eager, but he was sure the excitement managed to wriggle into his words as he responded, “Good news I presume?”

  “That depends.” Melchior shrugged. “Is no news still considered good news?”

  Killian sighed, his enthusiasm waning as disappointment took over. He stopped and leaned against a pillar, looking out at the jagged mountaintops, wishing that for just a moment a flicker of the sunrise would return. But of course, the sky was a solid gray, dampening Killian’s mood even more.

  Melchior stepped in front of him, though Killian kept his head turned away.

  “I’m sorry, but maybe he was just trying to be clever. There are hundreds of smaller provinces and counties with representatives here, he could just as easily be from one of them.”

  “Or he just made something up to get rid of me.”

  “Also a possibility.”

  Killian scowled. “Thanks.”

  “All I’m saying is this is an enormous event,” Melchior said innocently. “Sometimes I think you have an easy time forgetting that not everyone is from a leading nation. There are countries out there smaller than your home district.”

  Killian knew it was true. But he shot Melchior a stabbing glare anyway. “I never forget that.”

  “Killian, you forget, on a less than inspiring basis, just how many districts your country even has at any given time.”

  “Well, maybe if they’d stop changing it, I’d have an easier time remembering.”

  Melchior smiled, and continued strolling along the veranda. But Killian refused to return the smile, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He clamped tight around the ring still floating inside. The cold metal bit against his palm.

  Finally Melchior sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but there is another reason this ‘Tuskidor’ place might be so difficult to find.”

  Killian stopped. He dreaded Melchior’s response, forcing himself to ask. “Why?”

  Melchior removed his glasses and began cleaning them on the hem of his coat. They weren’t dirty, but he kept his focus on them. “Like I mentioned, this event is on a grander scale than I think you realize. And…remember, it’s not uncommon for a few undocumented guests to slip between the cracks.”

  Killian’s stomach dropped. “You think he’s a fraud.”

  “Or a spy. Or even just someone looking for a free holiday.”

  A sickening wave lurched up in the pit of Killian’s stomach. He bit the inside of his lip, only for a second before he shook it off. He wanted to respond, but his voice threatened to disappear completely and he kept his jaw set. Melchior sighed again and spoke gently.

  “I said it’s merely a possibility, just something to consider.” He placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you knew this entire situation was a bit of a fantasy anyway.”

  Killian nodded but he didn’t answer. His throat felt thick and fuzzy, and his cheeks burned in a way that made his frown deepen. Instead he focused on Fedya’s plain attire—how simple it had been for someone claiming royalty, his gray coat without a single adornment. Of course, it was his plainness that only added to his appeal, a certain indifference to the overindulgent extravagances that more and more often amounted to nothing more than a competition in snobbery.

  But that’s exactly what Killian wanted, and he’d only realized it at that very moment. He was so captivated by Fedya’s otherness that he hadn’t seen it for what it really was. A disguise. A ruse to avoid the crowds all the while passing himself off as someone he was not.

  “Well now, that was quite the adventure.”

  Annette’s voice carried out to them, and Killian didn’t bother looking back at her as he heard her heels clicking rapidly toward them. Melchior looked over Killian’s shoulder at her before he shook his head.

  “How generous of you to share.”

  “I’m fairly certain your darling duchess has just about eaten them out of room and board. There wasn’t much left but a few scraps of fruit and a bowl of something blue that seemed better off left untouched.”

  Killian crossed his arms and leaned back against the pillar. The gardens were already filling with people as the morning stretched on, but then he spotted a familiar sapphire headscarf—the empress. He quickly scooted around to the other side of the column, hoping she hadn’t caught sight of him.

  Melchior lifted an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Ah, yes,” Annette said with a sage nod. “The cowering like a common thief, that sort of nothing.”

  Killian grabbed Melchior’s arm, pulling him out of the line of sight. “It’s been a long morning, alright?”

  “The morning’s just begun.”

  “Exactly.”

  Melchior and Annette exchanged glances before Melchior looked to the side and his brows furrowed. He tilted his head, lowering his glasses as he peered out to the gardens, and a renewed expression of interest began to spread. “I can’t be sure,
but isn’t that the Empress of Bruai Shia?”

  “Yes,” Killian answered glumly. “I met her earlier this morning.”

  “Don’t sound so enthused. Honestly, I thought you of all people would be chomping at the bit to land in her good graces. It would seem she’s growing quite a bit in popularity lately, and a very influential person to have in your corner.”

  “So why don’t you go talk to her?” Killian snapped.

  Melchior shrugged. “I had already been planning on it. Cosette received a letter from her a couple of weeks ago, though I’ve yet to read it.”

  “Uh huh,” Killian muttered, still trying to twist out of sight.

  “Don’t you ever talk about anything interesting?” Annette nudged Killian with her elbow, offering a peevish smile. “I have it on good authority that the empress has herself a secret lover. Apparently, she and a strange man have been spotted, talking in secret, on more than one occasion since their arrival, though no one has been able to figure out who he is. He always seems to vanish, as if by magic, and of course the empress never says a word about him.”

  Killian couldn’t bring himself to return the grin. Even the thought of Merav living out her own happily ever after made his stomach turn.

  A violent shudder suddenly shook the ground. Killian grasped at the pillar, nearly stumbling back as Annette lost her footing. She shrieked, and he barely caught her from hitting the ground. Her nails dug into his arms as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “What’s going on?!”

  He had to yell just to be heard. The ground was beginning to rumble, and inside he could hear people screaming. “An earthquake!” He clutched her tighter. “What do we do?”

  There was nowhere to take cover. He held Annette close, locking eyes with Melchior for just a moment before he felt something begin to prickle at his skin. He shivered, but he couldn’t place the strange sensation. It was like an invisible fog wrapped around them, tingling the air.

  “The warlocks are trying to contain it!” Melchior shouted, just as the large pillars began to thunder and crumble.

  “Well, it’s not working!”

  A deafening crash erupted from inside. Killian craned his neck to peer into the ballroom, and his blood thickened to ice. The enormous chandelier of the ballroom had slammed into the floor, cracking the tile. Bits of broken glass and twisted metal flung about. People lay on the ground. They were still screaming. He could hear terrified sobs.