Fairytales Slashed: Volume 8

by Samantha M. Derr

  "It's snowing."

  Janos rolled over to look out the window, smiling at the sight of the flakes tumbling down from the sky. "Come on," he said. "It'll look beautiful from downstairs."

  They left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, staring up at the snow swirling in through the holes in the roof, dots of white against a midnight sky. It was a heavy snowfall, and before long soft piles of it were gathering in patches on the floor and coating the large table.

  The snow wasn't the dry, powdery stuff that they'd had the past two winters, but the thick, wet snow that had once been perfect for building snowmen and having snowball fights when he'd been a boy. Granted, he'd never been able to stay out on a snowy day for nearly as long as his brothers, so most of his fond memories of snow days were of looking out his window and watching his brothers tussle in the snow as he himself built tiny snowmen out of the snow that had drifted onto his windowsill.

  Janos had to admit, the snow that was drifting down now did look awfully tempting…

  Hoping it seemed like he was just going to take a closer look, he inched closer to the table, and its waiting pile.

  "Isn't it odd," Roland said, "how a day can be going perfectly well, and all of a sudden someone gets a death wish?"

  Perhaps he hadn't been as inconspicuous as he'd thought. He could admit his ill-thought out scheme and slink back over to Roland. Or…

  He scooped up a handful of snow, giving it a hard throw before he ran.

  Janos didn't get far—he hadn't expected to—but he did rather wish it was because Roland caught hold of him fair and square instead of him stumbling to a halt when his left knee gave out.

  Fortunately, Roland apparently thought it was a ploy to duck out of the way rather than recognizing it for the embarrassing physical weakness it was. He caught him around the waist, also dropping to his knees, and Janos forced a smile onto his face as he waited for the pain to fade.

  "Okay, so I know I deserve snow down the back of my shirt for that, but if I could just—"

  The snow was soaking into the fabric of his leggings and his knee ached and he was breathless from the cold, but when he looked up and saw the expression on Roland's face, suddenly none of that mattered.

  There was affection there, and want, and he wasn't just imagining it, wasn't just hoping so hard for it that he was seeing what wasn't there. It was shining on Roland's face as bright and clear as the snow.

  He had time to acknowledge the expression but not how to respond to it before Roland leaned forward and kissed him.

  And if simply lying close to him had sent a thrill right down to his toes, this was on an entirely new level; it was all he could do not to let out a thoroughly ill-timed laugh and scramble up into his lap.

  That was when Roland dropped a handful of snow down the back of his shirt.

  Janos yelped and fell back, sitting down hard, and then he was laughing and Roland was laughing, too, scooting forward to wrap the blanket around their shoulders again.

  "Well, we had this whole speech prepared about how if you hurt our brother we'd torture you to death, but looks like we don't need to give it."

  Janos looked up, his mouth falling open in shock at the sight of his brothers. Beside him, Roland had already gained his feet, and now offered him a hand up, wariness thrumming through every line of his body.

  "Pity, too," Ambrus said.

  "Yeah, it was a good speech," Abel said, nodding in agreement with his twin. "Full of glowering."

  "What are you doing here?" Janos asked, embarrassment warring with surprise.

  "Told the guards we were paying a visit," Abel said, still looking between the two of them. "So," he said, gaze finally settling on his brother. "This is who you were courting?"

  "Um," Janos began. Interesting, he thought. Until this moment, he hadn't realized a person's entire body could blush.

  "Come on," Ambrus said. "We're going to get you out. Both of you, I suppose, now."

  Janos closed his eyes as grief swept to the forefront of his emotions again. "Thank you. Really, thank you so much, but no. I can't let you risk something like that. What— what he did to Mariska…" They just stared at him, clearly baffled, and he felt his heart sink. "He didn't even tell you? He… father intercepted her ship. She was—"

  "Janos, no," Ambrus said, moving forward to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. "No. He's been stomping about for the past week, grumbling about how she got away. She's all right. She got out."

  He sagged against his older brother, the rush of relief so great that for a few seconds he was afraid he might actually start crying. "You're certain?"

  "Yes. We're sorry," Abel said. "If we'd known he'd been telling you such things we would've tried to get out here sooner."

  "It's not the only time he's lied," Janos said. "The lands to the west… they're us. At least partly. People that Kings and Queens for generations have found ‘undesirable' have made their way there. And I can't believe that father hasn't been made aware of that. Some of the fighters must have spoken our language, same as Roland can, someone must have wondered, must have reported back—"

  "You're sure about this?"

  "His name is Roland," Janos said, taking his hand. "We share a language and names; we share customs. He knows how to play the piano."

  Abel had turned away. Ambrus was staring at him, looking ill. "All this time," Ambrus said. "All that fighting and it was… it was our own people?"

  "Yes."

  "It's about to get worse," Abel said quietly. "Father told me last night that the rest of Roland's people were still too combative. He's considering sending in all the rest of our troops, wiping them out once and for all when we're still under a ceasefire."

  "We have to go," Roland said.

  "We can't," Janos said. "I mean, I know a passage out of the First Castle but not off the grounds, not any more, I…" His voice dropped in shame. "I told Father."

  "Come, now, little brother," Ambrus said, giving him a smile. "You don't think you're the only one who knows ways to sneak out?"

  *~*~*

  "And you're quite sure?" Janos asked, searching Abel's face for any sign of hesitation.

  "For the hundredth time, yes," Abel said. "Someone has to stay behind to throw father off the trail." After the rest of them had a few hours' head start, Abel planned to run to the King in a panic, telling him that Ambrus had gone to let Janos go, and that the two of them planned to seek shelter in the forest to the east.

  "He'll send most of the soldiers here out to that forest, searching," Ambrus said. "But when he discovers Roland's gone…"

  "I'll volunteer to ride for the western lands. Demand their unequivocal surrender in light of their Prince's actions," Abel said with a grin.

  "Will father let you ride alone?" Janos asked. Immediately, his face reddened. Of course the King would. Abel had never shown any hint that he couldn't handle himself in a dangerous situation. But to Janos's surprise, Abel seemed to give the question serious thought, instead of simply teasing him for asking it.

  "I think so," Abel said. "If he seems hesitant, I'll stoke up his anger until he's no longer thinking clearly. Now, you'd best go," he said. "And remember, once you reach the fiftieth step, take great pains to be quiet. You'll no longer be behind empty rooms or bustling hallways, but behind private quarters. Someone could hear you then and send up an alarm."

  "You speak from experience?" Janos asked, trying to smile normally and camouflage his quickly-rising panic.

  "I've always been perfectly quiet in the passage," Abel said. "It's this one who's an oaf." He gave Ambrus a firm slap on the back, which his twin countered with a punch to the shoulder. The two of them grinned at each other and then embraced briefly.

  "Let's hurry on, now," Ambrus said, motioning for Janos and Roland to follow him. Then he pushed in a seemingly-solid section of the wall, revealing a narrow passageway behind it.

  Janos ducked inside, taking one last glance back at the room in which they'd been conver
sing. His mother had decorated the castle with painting upon painting of bright flowers and spring fields. His father preferred portraits of the Royal families, past and present. When Queen Valeria had been alive, each of their favorite subjects had taken up equal space. Now, years after her passing, the paintings she'd so loved were strewn about this room, gathering dust.

  Roland and Ambrus followed him into the passage, Ambrus shoving the stone wall back into place once he was inside. Janos moved quietly forward, resisting the urge to flail wildly about in response to the cobwebs he could feel brushing against his face and hair.

  This passageway dipped slightly below the ground floor, offering them a subterranean way out past the castle grounds. Once outside, they couldn't risk sneaking back in to try and get horses out of the stables, and they'd deemed it too risky for Abel to try and get three out to them. Instead, he was going to go out riding in ten minutes' time and ‘lose' his steed due to an improperly tied knot. He would laugh it off at the stables and insist the mare would be back in a couple of hours' time, that he would keep an eye out for her.

  Janos had been embarrassed when Ambrus had brought up that even if the rest of them could make the trek to the western lands without a steed, Janos would most certainly need one. He knew that Roland was already well aware of the fact that he was weaker than most, but still, having it so blatantly pointed out had been humiliating.

  At least Roland hadn't smiled or laughed during the addition to the plan. He'd simply nodded, considering his frailty as something to be worked with instead of mocked.

  "I'm sorry," he said abruptly.

  "About what?" Roland asked, squeezing around a corner.

  "I didn't say anything. That first day I saw you being carried through the town square. I should have shouted at all of them for what they were doing to you."

  "You didn't know me then."

  "No, but I do know that throwing rocks at an unarmed man is wrong. I did not even have the excuse of being overwhelmed by seeing a battle I'd personally fought finally brought to an end. I can stand being weak in body but not in mind."

  "Janos. Look where you are. Think about what you're doing. I would hardly call this the act of a coward."

  "Nearing step fifty," Ambrus whispered. "Quiet now."

  None of them spoke until they reached the end of the tunnel, carefully raising the hidden door and peering around to find the area deserted. They covered the trapdoor back up with leaves and scattered rocks and then hurried to the place where Abel had told them he'd leave the horse.

  "By the swimming lake, next to the northern dock," he'd said.

  Janos had been grateful that his brother had left off ‘the one you fell from when you were nine, remember?'. Not for the first time, he wished his past involved more dragon-slaying and expert swordsmanship and less tripping over his own feet.

  Sure enough, the horse was tied precisely where Abel said it would be. Janos was touched to see that he'd made sure to bring out his favorite mare—Old Snow was a sedate, gentle creature who was very unlikely to throw him.

  He hauled himself into the saddle as Ambrus untied the rope, and then they headed west.

  *~*~*

  They'd come up with how to handle several possible scenarios once they reached Roland's village.

  Most likely, Ambrus said, their soldiers would see them coming in and demand an explanation. Solution: he would say that he and Janos had caught Roland nearby trying to get back home, and would like more security to help return him to the castle. Depending on how the soldiers behaved, Ambrus would either talk to them once tensions had lowered, or they would fight.

  Another likely option, Roland had pointed out, was that his people had overthrown the soldiers. In which case, they could explain what was actually happening right away, and Ambrus would negotiate for the release of their fighters.

  But when they arrived at the village, neither of those scenarios came to pass. Instead, they found Roland's people milling about as if nothing at all was the matter—even Janos had heard stories about the strict rules and curfews they were supposed to be living under—while the soldiers sat on front doorsteps or leaned against walls, looking baffled, their swords hanging sheathed at their sides.

  "What in the…" Ambrus began, but a look of realization came over Roland's face.

  "She's back," he murmured.

  "What?" Janos asked. "Who?"

  "Wait here," Roland told him, even as Ambrus went to have a word with one of the soldiers. "I'll explain what's happening, tell her you're here, and—"

  "Janos?"

  He nearly fell from the saddle in his haste to get down; would have hit the ground quite painfully had Roland's hands not been there to steady him. He knew that voice.

  And then he saw her hurrying toward them both. Her once-pale skin was tanned from the sun, and she wore clothes in the manner of the women of this village; loose, draping fabrics and bare feet, not the elaborate gowns in which he'd always seen her. Her hair wasn't up in a bun or a braid but fell loose around her shoulders now, the gold liberally streaked with white.

  Her smile hadn't changed.

  "Mother?" he asked, and for once he couldn't be bothered with embarrassment at the fact that shock turned his voice into something resembling a mouse's squeak. He ran to her and she threw her arms around him, murmuring fragments of thoughts.

  "Ohhh, my boy, so sorry, thought I'd never see you again, I'm sorry…"

  "What happened?" Janos asked, reluctantly stepping back. "Where have… where have you been? Have you been here? Father said…" He froze, the answer right in front of him. "You were exiled. He exiled you."

  She looked down at him with sad eyes, and then Ambrus's roar of surprise had them turning, both of them hardly able to move before he was there, pulling Valeria close.

  "You're alive! What are you doing here? How did you… you caught the Rats' Disease, you—"

  She shook her head. "No, it was…" she trailed off, and then laughed. "Look at you! You're even taller than me now!"

  "You always said I would be," he told her, voice sounding strained. It was all Janos could do not to stare. In all his life, he couldn't remember ever seeing his older brother with tears in his eyes. Even on the day of their mother's burial service, he'd been determined to ‘be strong', as their father had said that was what the citizens would expect from their rulers.

  "And Abel?" she asked. "He's well?"

  "Yes," Ambrus said. "He stayed behind to distract father so we could get here. How are you here?" he asked.

  "Come inside," she said, gesturing to a large stone one-story building with a thatched roof. "I'll explain everything." She beamed as she saw Roland, who was leading the horse to a hitching post. "Roland!"

  "Hello, Valeria," he said, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  "You… then you knew she was alive?" Janos asked.

  "Yes," Roland said. "I didn't say anything because before you got to know me, you would've thought I was trying to lead you into a trap. And after you got to know me… I didn't want you to try to confront your father or ride out here without thinking."

  "He deserves to be confronted! He—"

  "Confronted and more," Valeria said. "But he told me on the day he sent me away that if I fought, if my executioner came back with so much as a scratch on him that he—he would put one of you boys to death."

  Janos stared at her, for the first time realizing what she must have gone through. Knowing her children were within a five-day ride but unable to see them, terrified that if her presence was revealed one of her sons would pay the price.

  "Your executioner?" he whispered, following her inside the building.

  "I was quite fortunate," Valeria said. "Caban was a loyal King's man, and I feared that all my talk would be for nothing. But in the end I managed to convince him to simply leave me in the woods in exile, rather than take my life." She searched Ambrus's face. "Does he still live? Or…"

  Ambrus shook his head. "Father claim
ed that Caban was the one who carried you upstairs once he realized you were sick. That he caught the Rat's Disease as well. Both… both of your bodies were supposedly burned." He leaned against the wall. "Father seemed so heartbroken."

  "Is that why you left this place?" Janos asked. "You didn't want our soldiers to see you and report back?"

  Valeria shook her head. "I had no idea your father was going to invade. I've been gone for almost two years now, off with Tlali and Nevena, visiting the other villages nearby. We're trying to form an alliance. Most are amenable," she said, and then she smiled, swiping tears away from her eyes as a tall, dark-skinned woman with her hair in a multitude of braids came out from the back room of the stone house. "Queen Emese? Your son is home."

  Emese stood frozen for an instant, and then she let out a whoop of joy and for a second Janos thought she was going to clamber right over the table. Instead she ran around it, grabbing Roland's hands and inspecting his face.

  "Are you all right?" she asked. "They didn't hurt you?"

  "No, no, I'm fine."

  "Don't lie to me; I can see your nose was broken, it's crooked now and—"

  "I wasn't hurt badly," he amended, pulling her into a hug. "And here? The soldiers have behaved themselves?"

  "The ones who didn't, died for it," Emese said simply.

  "Mother," Ambrus said. "They're coming. More soldiers. Father's going to raze this entire place; he's—"

  "We won't let that happen," Valeria said. "When are they coming?"

  "It took us almost seven days to get here rather than the usual five," Ambrus said, and Janos ducked his head down, knowing that he was the reason for that. He quickly looked up, startled and grateful, when Roland took his hand. "Father had planned for them to start the march on the 15th. They'll be here within three days."

  "Your soldiers that were already stationed here," Emese said. "Send them forward to meet the oncoming troops. They can explain what's going on."

  "I… Queen Emese, I wish to apologize," Ambrus said. "I led some of the initial charges. If I'd known who—if I'd had any idea—"