Snow (19 page)

That was when he'd met John. He was standing in a square in a tiny parched town, singing and watching people stare markedly at his hands, at him, as they walked by and left nothing behind and John had stopped and asked him to sing a song. When Alec was done he asked him to sing one more.

"Miner, are you?" he asked, looking at his hands, and Alec said,

"Do you see me standing in rock now?"

"Surely don't," John said, a grin crossing his face and seeming to swallowing it, and then he'd offered Alec a job. Singing, he'd said and there was a little pause at the end of the word. Alec hadn't much cared about the pause then because suddenly there it was, a chance at the one thing he always thought he'd wanted more than anything.

The watcher John employed came out and squinted yellow-eyed at him then, cracked the knuckles on one hand slowly, fist flexing. "Almost time," he said and when Alec was ready, the watcher would be the first one he'd tell about how much money John held.

He went back inside. He could hear the crowd, rowdy and laughing, calling for more, more and tossing coins at the stage. He sat down in a corner and painted dark onto his hands. He hadn't lost all the dust and knew he never would but it wasn't enough for John. He wanted Alec to look like he'd just staggered out into the light. He laced up his boots and hefted the pick John had made for him, lightweight and dull-edged--John was careful when it came to those kind of things--into his hands.

Beside him Roberta shrugged her shoulders and shuddered, her neck and shoulders rippling into pale green flesh laced with tiny moving mouths. She was half mer, she'd told him once, had left the sea town that had been her home in hopes of becoming a dancer. "Wanted more than sliding about in the sea gathering pearls for princes," she'd said and he'd nodded. They didn't talk much but they drank together sometimes or sought out those who sold wormwood and shared a few lungfuls, held each other while they dreamed.

She went out before he did and he stood exactly where he was rolling the pick around in his hands. He didn't need to see her perform, didn't want to. Roberta had wanted to be a dancer and now she was, of sorts. She swam in a small clear tank John had made, dipping and twisting through water so those who had never seen her like before could watch.

He thought about the papers, about the words on them. He'd never loved David. He was sure of it. But he hadn't ever stopped thinking about him. He'd waited and waited but David was still there, drifting through his mind. Drink didn't wash him free and wormwood only made him more real, took Alec back to moments between them and made his life now seem like even more of a shadow.

"I never loved him," he said and the moment he heard himself say it he knew it was a lie.

When he was called he went on stage. "A miner with a voice of gold," John's voice boomed.

"See what the earth has yielded and marvel at its strangeness, at this creature that forgets who he is. See him squint as he steps into the light--truly, he was never meant to be here and yet here he is, just for your entertainment!"

That was John's gift. He'd figured out their dreams and saw them for the impossibility they were and then sold them, let others watch them wish for what everyone knew would never be.

And so now here he was. He stood and looked at the crowd, the bright lights John had beaming down on him showing row after row of faces he couldn't quite see watching him, only him.

He thought about David. About how he'd told himself he would forget him, that what he felt was nothing. He'd been wrong. What he felt wasn't nothing and all he thought he'd forget he never would. He sang and looked at all the washed out faces he couldn't see.

Michael didn't tell her first. He always told her everything first but the day he announced David would be his consort Judith was caught surprised, stood staring at him as he sat holding David's hand and spoke.

Everyone bowed and murmured praise and promises of prayers of blessing and she waited until they were all gone before she said, "Consort?" She knew there was sharpness in her voice, a fury she'd never shown Michael before, and his mouth parted, shocked. She saw his hand tighten around David's momentarily.

"It pleases me," he said and his voice was tight. Hurt. Maybe even a little angry. "And the Prince and Princess--what else must they do but sign the agreement I've sent forth? They know I can muster an army far greater than theirs and now a ruler to replace them, of truer blood than they, if I so desire."

"You've thought of everything," she said softly. She couldn't bear to hear him speak in his voice of before again. Not toward her.

Michael grinned at her then, appeased, and pressed a kiss to David's palm. "My heart's desire and the land stronger than ever," he said. "What more could any man ask for?"

She looked at David sitting holding Michael's hand. Sitting silent and unsmiling beside him. So beautiful, she thought. And so cold.

"I wish you much joy," she said to David, the formal words of praise.

"And I you," he said, looking steadily back at her, and she knew there was nothing else she could say.

***

The day a royal courier arrived every noble in attendance at the castle trembled. The news from afar had not been good for a long time and had been even worse lately and that never boded well.

The royal herald's voice cracked when he read the name of the King whose courier had been sent and felt the Prince and Princess's eyes on him, began to tremble so badly his throat closed up tight.

"We shall expect you in our rooms later," the Prince said and reached for his sister's hand.

"Yes," the Princess said and wrapped her hand around her brother's, her fingertips sliding over his.

The herald threw himself off a parapet that afternoon. His body was burned in the courtyard.

There was no one there to mourn him. To be seen was to risk attention and everyone knew better than that now.

The Prince and Princess received the royal courier in silence and sent him away without saying a word, even when the courier said, "Surely you wish to send along blessings of joy to King Michael and the consort he has chosen?"

For a long time after the courier left they didn't speak and their attendants trembled, knowing what such silence meant.

"Leave us," the Princess said as the sun was setting and watched as everyone who served them scurried away, running as if there could be an escape.

"He's alive," the Prince said and his voice was low, steady. The Princess pressed a kiss to the back of his hand and could taste his fury.

"Yes. The woodsman we sent with him--"

"I'll summon him," the Prince said. The Princess smiled.

***

He no longer sat waiting for them but he never left the house either. Joseph had never been able to venture back into the forest, not even when he'd finally realized that the Prince and Princess were never going to send for him, that they'd forgotten him. He stayed at home and listened to the cries of excitement that had come when the snow had stopped falling fade, watched bleakness return to everyone's gaze as the land stayed blanketed in winter, in snow. His mother found joy in the shining sun still, sometimes, but those moments were few and far between.

He never looked at the sky. He sat indoors, never facing a window, never facing the door. He sat in his room and remembered and dreamed dreams he knew would never come to pass, gorged himself on them because they were all he had left. And so when there was a knock on the door one evening and his mother's voice rose sharp and surprised he thought nothing of it.

He thought nothing of it until she came into his room and knelt before him, said, "You've been summoned to the castle." Her eyes were wide, terrified. The joy that had greeted the Prince and Princess at the beginning of their rule hadn't lasted long. Winter never let go of the land and taxes had risen and then risen again and those that grumbled, even the faintest of complaints, were led to gruesome deaths. "I'll tell them you aren't here. I'll say you've gone to your cousin's.

It will take them a few days to journey there and meanwhile you can--"

"I've been summoned?"

She stared at him, her mouth parting, shocked at the joy in his voice, and then nodded once, slowly.

He got up and walked toward the door. There were two guards waiting for him. "Take me to them," he said and could not contain his smile, watched the guards blink startled at it. Finally he'd been called. And finally he would go. He would see them again. His mother hugged him tight and kissed him before he left. He returned her embrace absently, his mind already racing far away.

He began to shake when they reached the castle. After so long he would see them, touch them.

For the first time in ages his body began to stir, heat. Hope and lust filled him and he felt alive, eager.

They were waiting for him in a room he'd seen many times before, a beautiful room filled with mirrors and tapestries and soft pillows blanketing the floor, two long, low wide couches the only furniture. He pictured them pushed together and knelt down, still trembling.

"There, now," the Prince said, and his hand was gentle on the back of Joseph's neck. "Did you think we'd forgotten you?"

"Because we wouldn't," the Princess said and her hand joined her brothers, traced over and around the Prince's, her nails scoring the skin at his nape lightly. "We never forget." Her other hand touched his chin, lifted his face up toward them.

They glowed as brightly as he remembered, golden and perfect and smiling at him. "I missed you," he told them. "It's been so long."

"Too long," the Prince said, still smiling, and slid his other hand inside his sister's robes. Joseph watched, blood racing, and then the hiss of a knife being drawn filled the room, the Prince's hand tracing delicately across his sister's stomach, the gleam of a blade showing through his fingers.

The Princess shuddered, mouth parting.

"All we asked was for one small thing," she said and her hand moved to his mouth, fingers tracing across his lips. "And yet you-"

"Betrayed us," the Prince finished, and the Princess sank her other hand into Joseph's hair, tilting his head back. Now all he could see was them. And all he could feel was their knife at his throat.

"But I--" he said. "I didn't. I took him out deep into the woods, just as you said. I just--I couldn't kill him. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted to but I--"

"You meant well," the Prince said soothingly and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"You tried," the Princess said and pushed a finger inside his mouth, tracing where her brother's kiss went.

"Yes," Joseph gasped. "I left him and I'm sure he perished. No one could survive in all that snow." They were looking down at him and the smiles on their faces were heated, hungry. He looked at the couches and then back at them, hoping.

"You have missed us," the Princess said, voice warm, honey-sweet, and he looked at her.

"Yes," he said, and stared at the diamonds woven into her hair and onto the sheer robe beneath the gilded one she always wore. Beneath that shone a glimpse of golden skin and he wanted her so badly, had missed her so much. "You know I love you so--"

"Not enough," the Princess said and the knife at his throat cut into his skin.

"I--" Joseph said, staring at the Prince with surprise on his face as the skin on his neck widened, stretching, and blood began to flow. "Please. I love you."

"Not enough," the Prince said, and twisted the knife, pushing deeper.

Joseph breathed his last breath and his blood spilled over the Prince and Princess's hands, dripped down onto the floor. They pushed his body away from theirs at the same time and stood looking at it for a moment, at Joseph's wide startled forever opened eyes, at the knife dug deep into his throat.

"We'll send our brother--" the Prince said.

"--a gift," the Princess said.

"A flask--"

"Of special wine?"

"Very special," the Prince said.

"From the Pale. A mother's gift--"

"To her only son."

"Yes," they both said.

The Prince held out his hand and the Princess took it, stepping neatly around the body on the floor as they headed toward the door.

"There's a washwoman," the Prince said.

"The one who always cries?"

"Yes."

"She'll never be able to remove this stain," the Princess said, and pointed to Joseph's blood drying in a dripping trail along the hem of her gown. "But still, she must try. I'll have her summoned."

"Save some tears for me," the Prince said and she smiled at him. They walked out of the room together. They did not close the door behind them.

The day David was crowned consort was beautiful--flowers blooming everywhere, sprinkled on the streets and woven through the trees, the sky empty of clouds and a brilliant shade of blue. He had woken up early and looked out the window, stared at the perfect looking sky and felt the breeze that blew into the room curl around his skin as if it was a living thing. As if it was measuring him, marking him. When he was being dressed he heard Judith out in the hall talking to someone, her voice rising as she talked about cost, of wizards and witch women that had been paid to make the day perfect. "It's what Michael deserves," she said and he touched the saucer that had held a cup of tea that had been brought for him, watched the roses on it continue to shine bright.

Michael came in to see him once, a mischievous grin on his face as he peeked around the door and said, "Look at you," his voice shining and proud. The dressers all giggled and blushed.

"Bad luck for you to see him beforehand," the maid who wasn't one said. She was standing by the door watching as she always did, those flat eyes never showing any emotion at all.

Michael shook his head at her and then grinned wider, darted across the room and pulled David close, kissing his forehead, his mouth, cupping his chin with one hand. "I make my own luck,"

he said and winked at David, then darted back out of the room. The dressers giggled again and talked animatedly for a moment, then fell silent as David didn't join in, just stood patiently waiting for them to finish. They did so in silence and after they left the maid who wasn't one gestured for him to sit down, combed his hair out and then pulled it tightly, holding it in one hand as she wove strands of diamonds though it with the other. Her fingers moved quickly, and he was glad there was no mirror in which he could watch her work.