FAIRYTALE Page 9

  “Come on!” Fedya kept running. “We have to find open ground!”

  He lost hold of Fedya’s wrist. A fountain crashed in front of them and they jumped off the path, and sprinted off the trail. Thick tree branches tore from their trunks, pulling down long cords of ivy and moss in their wake. The icy ground quivered, slick beneath their boots. Everything blurred together as Killian tried to catch back up to Fedya, gasping as the frozen air stabbed his lungs.

  The bushes and trees gave way and they skidded to a stop. A large marble gazebo was in front of them, teetering in the air. It lurched forward. There was no time to run. Fedya yelled one last time, but Killian couldn’t understand him anymore. He rammed his shoulder into Fedya, shoving him away from the plummeting column. His feet gave way from under him. He smashed into the snow, and the gazebo came crashing down.

  “K

  illian?”

  Something cold and pointy jabbed his right cheek.

  “Killian?”

  Killian cracked his eyelids open. His entire body was numb. He blinked a few times, squinting. The sky was gray, and small flecks of snow drifted down on top of him. His forehead throbbed. Flexing his fingers, he reached up with one aching arm and wiped his face.

  “Oh, thank God.” He heard Fedya sigh. “You’re alive.”

  Groaning, Killian sat up. His back popped and cracked, and a tingling sensation ran down his arms. Blinking slowly, he looked around. He lay on the ground, Fedya huddled close beside him. The gazebo was nothing more than a pile of rubble. Hedges and bushes were split from the earth, toppled over in heaps of broken branches and fallen petals. He couldn’t see the castle anymore.

  He looked back at Fedya. “Where are we?”

  The relief on Fedya’s face was short-lived, his expression instantly turning back into a grim stare. “How should I know?” he said. “You were the one who ran this way.”

  Killian didn’t bother to argue. He scanned the area again, the back of his head still pounding. Everything was a toppled-over mess. He sighed. “Come on,” he muttered, grimacing as he struggled to move his legs. “Let’s find our way back.”

  Fedya stood up easily, and to Killian’s surprise, offered his hand. Killian was thankful for it, taking it as he hoisted himself up to his feet, and the blood instantly rushed to his temples. He wobbled for a moment, the frozen deadness of his limbs starting to prickle like a thousand knives.

  But then everything steadied, and for a moment he simply stood there, holding Fedya’s hand. He could see now a few scrapes on Fedya’s cheek and neck, his coat completely torn. He squeezed Fedya’s hand, and Fedya almost jumped as their eyes met. It would have been so easy to continue arguing. The yelling, the lies...but they weren’t really lies. Were they? Fedya quickly pulled away and Killian felt even more foolish than before.

  “Let’s go.”

  They walked in silence, side by side. The sun was rapidly disappearing beyond the mountains, the sky awash in pale hues of pink and purple. The bushes were taller out here, and still Killian couldn’t see the top of the castle. He only hoped they were headed in the right direction as he buried himself deeper inside his coat and tried not to shiver. They didn’t have any snow in Astrocia, and his suit wasn’t made for such frigid weather. His teeth soon began to ache from being so tightly clamped together.

  The rest of the garden didn’t fare much better than the gazebo. Entire trails were blocked off from the crumbled remnants of toppled statues and broken fountains. They wound their way around them, all the while Killian tried to quash the rising suspicion that they were only trekking deeper and deeper inside the gardens. The snow fell thicker, covering their footsteps with fresh powder and sending renewed chills through Killian’s numb body.

  No voices called out. Was nobody looking for them? The sky grew darker by the minute, and Killian quickened his pace. He didn’t want to be out there when the last of the light completely winked out.

  He turned a corner and immediately turned back, snatching Fedya’s elbow and yanking him back.

  Fedya grunted. “What are you doing?”

  “Shh.” Killian instantly put a finger to his lips and Fedya fell silent.

  He stood on tiptoe, peering over Fedya’s head and back around the rosebush. A faint, white glow flickered, sputtering in and out weakly. “Do you see that?” he whispered.

  Fedya tensed, and for a moment their bodies almost pressed together as Fedya inhaled sharply. Neither seemed to notice. Fedya craned his neck, his eyes widening as he caught sight of pale, wavering light, and he shook his head. “We need to turn around.” His voice was tight.

  Killian nodded, images of the Grimbeast flashing in his mind, when a new sound pricked his ears. He stopped. Then the noise started up again, tiny and quick, like the flutter of a piccolo, it weaved inside him, simmering through his veins like bolts of silver. He peeled his fingers back from Fedya; releasing his hold on his arm and sucking in a breath, he took a cautious step forward.

  “Stop!” Fedya hissed. “Get back here!”

  Killian flinched and again held a finger to his lips. Fedya glowered at him, reaching for his arm, but Killian quickly pulled away. He looked back to the light and nodded, ignoring Fedya’s fevered resistance. The light, tinny sound laced around him, pulling him in. He was vaguely aware of Fedya still by his side. The light flickered out faster now, but it neither faded nor grew, and he held his breath as he turned the corner.

  A statue had fallen, and Killian recognized it as one of the iron maidens Merav had pointed out to him earlier that week. This one was in the shape of a young girl pouring out a bucket of water. It lay smashed into the ground, the bucket torn from the girl’s hand, twisted in a mangled heap across the snow. That’s where he saw the fairy.

  She didn’t look like the stories. Even though she was no larger than an infant, she didn’t look like one. She didn’t even look human at all, old or young, impossible to tell. She didn’t radiate light—she was made of it. White, yellow, blue, all streaming together into one, solidified form. When she fluttered her long, thin wings, the piccolo whistled again. But she couldn’t move, trapped beneath the crushing hand of the maiden, a prison of iron.

  Fedya’s fingers wrapped around Killian’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  The fairy’s head whipped around and she stared. Her eyes were two galaxies, shimmering with the light of a million stars. Killian couldn’t move, trapped beneath the beauty of her gaze.

  She wasn’t like the fairies he imagined, the deadly creatures that longed for human flesh, ready to consume a man in a single gulp, or the fairies of black magic who preyed on the kindness and naivety of mortals. He searched for long, black talons and dripping fangs, wild hair and screeching cries loud enough to make his ears bleed. But there was none. She was beautiful, exactly like an angel.

  She stopped fluttering her wings. The music stopped, and she remained perfectly still. Then she spoke.

  “Help me.”

  Killian jumped. Her voice was like a whisper, pressed right up against his ear. But Fedya had jerked back as well. He had heard her too.

  “Please.”

  Killian glanced over to Fedya, but Fedya shook his head, retreating a few more steps. Killian wanted to follow, but he couldn’t. He looked back to the fairy instead. She still stared at him, and not once did she blink. Instead, she leaned over, just a little, and she spoke again.

  “I will die soon.”

  His heart tightened against his ribcage, and he sucked in a breath. He couldn’t walk away from her. Slowly he took a cautious step forward, but Fedya suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  “Don’t be absurd!” He hardly bothered to whisper anymore. “What kind of fairy won’t use magic to free herself? She’ll kill us!”

  Killian wavered. Fedya’s voice seethed with fury, but terror plagued his face. He recognized that look, the same panic that gripped him so fiercely that day in the snow. But then he slid his g
aze from Fedya back to the fairy, and shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said, keeping his voice low, though he was fairly certain the fairy could hear every word he spoke. “That statue is iron; fairy magic is weakened by it. She needs our help.” He took a step forward but then stopped, glancing back at Fedya one more time. “She’s afraid.”

  He didn’t know whether or not that was actually true, his own thudding heart echoing in his ears. But the anger on Fedya’s face wavered, and Killian nodded encouragingly. Without another word he turned and stepped lightly over to the statue.

  The fairy didn’t speak or move, but her head turned, her wide, unblinking eyes trained on him. He expected her light to feel warm as he approached, but his skin prickled and shimmered silver and gold. He held his breath and grabbed the statue before he could change his mind. It was even heavier than it looked. He gritted his teeth, pushing his heels into the ground. It hardly budged.

  “Fedya, please,” Killian begged, shaking his head. “I can’t do it alone.”

  Fedya wavered, though the fairy remained silent. But she turned her head, watching him now. Fedya trembled, his fingers shaking at his side.

  “Please.” Killian had to distract him. Fedya looked back up and Killian gripped the statue tighter. “She’ll die.”

  He wavered for an eternity. Motionless. Quiet. Then he stomped over to the other side of the statue and began to lift.

  Even with both their strength, the statue barely moved. Killian sucked in another breath, his muscles burning, but slowly the maiden began to lift. Fedya adjusted his grip and his fingers grazed the fairy’s wing. A flash of sparks and Fedya yelled in pain. The statue slipped, but it was just enough and the fairy darted out. They released their grip, and the mangled sculpture crashed back into the snow.

  At once the fairy erupted into a beam of light. Fedya stumbled back and Killian instinctively reached for him, clutching his shoulders, holding him tight. Fedya still cradled his arm, skin singed. The light shattered the sky, and the sound of thousands of bells crashed inside his skull.

  “What did you do?” Fedya whispered, and they both stared at the column of light.

  A figure emerged in the beam of light and he saw her again. The fairy. Only she wasn’t tiny anymore, but enormous and radiating and glimmering like a mirage, all at once mesmerizing and painful to look at. He sought her face but couldn’t stare for too long, everything stinging.

  “Thank you.”

  Although she hadn’t moved, Killian felt the brush of her lips against his cheek, the pull of her breath prickling his throat. His heart faltered in strange, otherworldly wanting. He inched closer to her.

  “You have not been blinded by the fears of mortal men.” Her voice was everywhere at once, a whisper tickling in his ear, a fire flashing through his veins. Every word teemed with a million possibilities, a dozen other lifetimes he couldn’t possibly begin to grasp, and in that moment the world as he knew it began to shift.

  “As a reward for your kindness, and if you should desire it, I give to you a single wish.”

  Fedya instantly shook his head and pressed in closer to Killian. “We don’t want it.”

  But Killian stood rooted to the spot, a new realization dawning on him. He dug his fingers into Fedya’s shoulders, a renewed excitement burning from deep in his chest. A million thoughts flashed through his mind, too fast to grasp, each more enticing than the last. The world exploded with possibilities, dazzling like stars shooting across the sky, and he whispered, “This could be our chance.”

  Fedya stared at him with horror in his eyes. “What?”

  “Don’t you want to try? To change your fate? To change our fate?” He was breathless, pulling Fedya in close. “If there was a way we could change all of this, to take our lives back, wouldn’t you want to? For Dmitri and Merav too?”

  Fedya didn’t pull away. His whole body shook as if ready to bolt, but instead he searched Killian’s face, as though looking for answers. “I…” his voice caught, and Killian saw a flicker of hope flash across Fedya’s eyes. Fedya shook his head, resisting. “I don’t know.”

  Killian squeezed Fedya’s fingers tight, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Just give it a chance, Fedya, it could work,” he pleaded, not even bothering to hide the hint of begging from creeping into his voice. “We could start over.”

  He searched Fedya’s eyes, searched his face, yearned for anything in response. But Fedya didn’t answer. Not this time. But Killian didn’t care. The stars were starting to dot the sky, and the cool air sparkled with energy, filling his lungs with fire. He grinned. He looked back at the fairy and he swore he could see her smiling.

  His hands slid away from Fedya’s and he took a step toward her. The light from the beam hummed with a life of its own.

  “Grant me the power of my own choosing,” he said, barely able to hear his own voice over the booming of his heartbeat. “Let me be free to decide my fate, who I will marry, where I will live. I want to follow my own way.”

  The words felt strange as they lifted off his tongue, as though he spoke wisps of a magic spell all on his own. He searched for her face again, longed to glimpse her reaction, but the light blinded him. It was growing brighter.

  “A fateful wish.”

  The fairy sighed. She lifted her hands above her head, and between her long, slender fingers, a ball of pure white began to form, spinning round and round itself until its long threads began to sift between themselves, taking shape. Killian shielded his eyes, refusing to look away until it gleamed so bright he winced and blinked. When he looked back, the light was gone, and floating between the fairy’s hands was a rose.

  He recognized it instantly. Its silver-dipped petals and dark, glinting thorns, sparkling against the full moon in a shower of golden sparks. Fedya gasped. He recognized it too. The Winter Rose.

  Then the fairy spoke.

  “Use the magic inside this rose to guide your heart. Hand in hand with your beloved, share a kiss before the rise of the Pink Moon and seal your new fate.”

  Killian’s chest tightened. The Pink Moon? That was only a couple of weeks away.

  The rose spun delicately in the air. She opened her hands and it gently floated down, down, down until it stopped right before Fedya. He stared at it, spinning like a top, haloed in moonlight. At last he moved, drew out his fingers and brushed their tips across the rose petals.

  “But take heed of its thorns,” the fairy whispered. “For they can draw blood, and unleash the demons within. Do not fall prey to their wicked ways, or by the glow of the Pink Moon revel in eternal damnation.”

  She leaned down and the air crackled around her. She wrapped her hands around Fedya’s, closing his fingers around the tiny rose bud. He never looked away, breathing fast. Then she dug her fingers into his and he screamed in agony. Beams of light shot from his hands and he stumbled back. Killian dove and caught him as a wave of blinding, warm light washed over them. It disappeared in a blink and the fairy was gone.

  The night was silent again. Still. It had stopped snowing, a million stars lighting up the sky. Fedya panted, gasping for breath. He still clutched the rose tight against his chest. Killian’s racing heartbeat filled his head and the world seemed to shift, everything suddenly dizzy. But this time the frozen air felt crisp, fresh and new.

  Carefully Killian pulled away from Fedya, though he still held his gaze. His mouth twitched with a smile. Fedya glanced away and nodded.

  “Look.”

  His voice shook Killian from his trance, and he glanced over. The bushes had fallen away, revealing a path he could have sworn had not been there before. It was free of debris, a simple cobblestone road that led them straight out of the garden.

  Fedya started forward without a word, and Killian followed. He glanced back once as they left the clearing, the iron statue still half buried under snow. But Fedya didn’t slow down, keeping the rose close against his chest. The castle loomed up ahead. T
hey hadn’t been far from it at all.

  “Fedya, wait.”

  Killian reached out, but to his surprise, Fedya stopped immediately. Killian’s lips were dry, but he shook in excitement. “We can use the rose. I want to try.”

  Fedya’s eyes were wide, his breathing shallow. He looked down at the rose. “You don’t know what will happen.”

  He looked at Fedya’s hand, then carefully extended his own in offering. “Maybe not. But I do know what will happen if we just keep walking. Dmitri and I will continue our engagement, Merav will return home, and nothing will change at all.”

  Fedya inhaled sharply, and Killian stepped in even closer, leaning down until their foreheads almost touched. “Come on, Fedya” he whispered, “I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing that I missed this moment. We might be able to change everything. We have a chance. Please, take it with me.”

  He could taste Fedya’s breath on his lips, hot. Fedya didn’t pull away, and slowly, carefully, Fedya placed his hand in his. Killian smiled and gently brushed Fedya’s dark hair back from his eyes. Even if it didn’t work, at least he would know they tried. What did he have to lose?

  A piercing shriek shattered the night. Fedya pulled back with a start.

  A wave of screams followed after. They exchanged a single glance before simultaneously bursting into a sprint, racing toward the castle. It wasn’t far now, and as the cobblestone path brought them up to the familiar gardens, a swarm of people appeared, standing just outside the ballroom doors. A group of them stood out from the glittering ballgowns and suits, dressed in forest green uniforms and holding back a sobbing woman, desperate to get inside.

  Killian’s stomach dropped as he recognized her. It was Merav.

  Fedya didn’t slow down. He rushed over, reaching her just as she broke free from their arms and disappeared inside. Fedya followed after, the rest of the crowd trailing in their wake. Within seconds their confused cries were split apart by another agonizing shriek.

  Merav’s wails stabbed Killian deep in the gut. He forced his legs to move. He stepped inside the ballroom, and stopped.