Archive of Our Own

The moon was the only light on the path when Ilya had arrived at the castle for the first time. His master walked in front of him, guiding the horse and cart with him. Ilya’s feet were tired, bleeding in places. His legs were tired, sore from the week-long journey from his village to wherever they had ended up. The cat sat on his shoulders, sleeping gently against his neck.

“He has all his teeth. He is strong for his age,” his father had said at the guild.

“He is not a horse, sir,” Wiebe had replied, looking at Ilya’s fingers. “I have different needs than a smith.”

They arrived at the raised iron gate on the outskirts of the castle walls quietly. A guard peered out of a window at the post and waved them on. Ilya frowned at the gate, but walked through. His master’s posture had not changed as they’d entered the gate. They belonged here.

They kept walking until they reached the castle. At its side, a stable glowed in the firelight. 

“Ilya, take down my small trunk and your bag,” Wiebe said, dropping Aldred’s reins to the ground.

His master stepped inside the stable yard as Ilya went to the cart. The cat followed him, springing into the back to snuffle at the luggage until she found Wiebe’s trunk. Ilya moved to take it.

He had just jumped down from the cart when Wiebe returned. Following him was a boy about 13, Ilya’s age, but shorter and darker than him. 

“He needs food and water. We did not stop today. My things can be taken into my quarters when the porters wake,” Wiebe said to the boy, bringing him up to touch Aldred’s nose. The horse snickered at the boy, who grinned and gathered up the reins.

“Thank you, sire,” the boy said, pulling the horse into the stable yard.

“Thank you, Troy,” Wiebe said. He turned to Ilya then, who had slung his knapsack over his shoulder and was carrying Wiebe’s trunk. “Come on. Let’s go rest.”

Ilya followed him through the castle grounds.

—

“What is your trade, sir?” his father had asked, looking at him with suspicion. All trades needed strength in an apprentice, surely.

“Not a trade. A craft. Wicce,” Wiebe had replied. He was looking at Ilya’s eyes now, searching for something.

The stable was busy during the daytime, but at night, it was usually just Ilya and Troy. They sat together; Troy was mending some of the tack, Ilya was rolling smoke wands. 

“It’ll be busy next week,” Troy said, looking across at Ilya. Ilya looked up and raised his eyebrows. “The queen’s family is visiting. There will be lots of other horses and work to do. You should see if Wiebe will let you help in the court.”

“He will not. He says that the court is a distraction. He will send me out to the forest to find it again,” Ilya said, shrugging and adding rose petals and thyme to his wrap. 

“It?” Troy asked, looking at his own hands as he adjusted the strap he had been mending.

“He says I must find it. That I cannot practice until I find it. That it will not work. And he found his in the forest,” Ilya said, shrugging.

“Weird,” Troy said, admiring his handy work. He turned it around for Ilya to see.

“Yes, it is all very weird,” Ilya said, looking at the new metal on the saddle. Ilya reached his hands out to touch it and felt something settle in him. “This is good.”

The next week was busy. Wiebe did not let him attend court, but he did allow him time to help the porters with their duties. That led to him getting lost in a wing of the castle he had never been to before. 

Ilya walked to a window and tried to orient himself. He could see out into the chaos inside the castle’s outer walls, but not the stable, not where he lived, and not Wiebe’s house. He must be on the South side.

He looked back out into the crowded yard in front of him. People were everywhere, ducking around carts, tripping over chickens, buying and selling goods. In the middle of it all, a boy that Ilya had never seen before stood by himself. He must be with the family visiting.

The boy’s head turned then, looking up towards the castle. His eyes roamed for a while, squinting up at the beige stone of the building. Then he saw Ilya. He squinted a little harder, then smiled and waved. 

Ilya felt it.

He stepped back from the window and rushed down the nearest set of stairs until he was in the courtyard. His breath was a little ragged, his heart was pumping. He scanned the courtyard for the boy, but there was no-one stood squinting at the castle now. He walked to the place where he had seen the boy, turning in a circle, trying to find him again. 

There was no-one.

“You found it,” Wiebe said when he flew into the workshop. The cat stretched in the sunlight and came to wrap herself around Ilya’s legs, purring deeply.

“Yes, I felt it,” Ilya said, bending to pet the cat’s soft tortoiseshell fur.

“How did you know?” Wiebe asked, looking up from his writing to run his eyes over Ilya’s face.

“I do not know. I just saw something and then it felt like-“ Ilya stopped, unsure what to say. Wiebe snapped his fingers and Ilya nodded.

“Yes, that,” Ilya said, sitting down in the chair opposite his master. “What are you writing?”

“Blessings,” Wiebe said dismissively, and then looked up at Ilya. “Come and look. It is time.”

Ilya stood immediately, coming to stand at his master’s shoulder.

Troy had swept a circle in the middle of the yard. Ilya stood on one side, Troy on the other.

Troy counted down: “3, 2, 1.” 

They rushed at each other, grappling as they landed. Ilya pushed hard with his feet, grunting under the strain. Troy bent one knee and fell, pulling Ilya down with him. Ilya landed on his side; Troy rolled over him and trapped Ilya beneath him. Ilya pushed back, dislodging Troy and barked out a laugh.

Troy huffed and moved back, glaring at Ilya. Ilya laughed harder. He surged forwards, tackling Troy to the ground. Ilya moved quickly, trapping Troy’s arms. Troy flailed beneath him, not finding purchase with his feet.

Ilya counting again: “3, 2, 1.”

Ilya grinned and stood, releasing Troy. He ran around the circle, raising his fist.

Troy scowled on the floor. Then he got up and returned to his side of the circle. “Again,” he said, and Ilya grinned. His face sharpened as he returned to the circle.

Ilya was pulling a heavy cart filled with wood from the stores outside the walls. He smiled brightly at two of the girls from the wash-house and they smiled back at him. They turned away, but one of them looked back at him. Sophie, he thought.

Ilya’s arms were straining only a little; he was strong as his father had said. He was sweating in the late afternoon sun. The shirt had started to cling to his chest and back. When he reached the main wood locker, Ilya finally put the cart down at his feet. He stopped, dropped his head back and stood with his hands on his hips. He took in several deep breaths and turned away from the sun. And then he pulled up his shirt to wipe his face.

When Ilya pulled it away, he saw the boy from the courtyard staring at him. His mouth shut quickly when he saw Ilya looking back.

The boy started to walk forward. He stopped just short of Ilya and stared at him.

“Yes?” Ilya said, raising an eyebrow at the boy. He was dressed in good, clean clothing that had clearly been made for him. 

“You are Wiebe’s apprentice. I have heard about you,” the boy said. He pushed a hand through his thick, black hair. He smiled for a second, before stiffening his face.

“Yes,” Ilya said again. The boy looked at him expectantly, for him to continue. Ilya didn’t know what else there was to say.

“Wiebe’s not had an apprentice before,” The boy said, after a long pause. He turned to the side, looking away from Ilya and then back towards him.

Ilya couldn’t resist. “No? I must be very special then,” he said and winked. He watched the boy flush from where his shirt lay open at his neck to the tips of his ears. Ilya watched as the apples of his cheeks were coloured in by that crimson wave. The boy looked down at his feet.

“Or he’s doing charity work, taking you on,” the boy said, still looking at his boots, but grinning a little. Ilya smirked to himself, steeling his face into one of boredom and contempt before the boy looked up again.

“Very mean. I am heartbroken. I will abandon Wiebe and return home, never to be seen again,” Ilya said, laughing and opening the lid of the wood chest. The boy laughed back, sneaking looks at Ilya as he did.

“Don’t worry. I leave tomorrow anyway. You don’t have to run away like a coward,” the boy said, openly taunting him now. He had raised his eyes in defiance as Ilya put a hand over his heart and acted wounded.

“Sir, you injure my pride. I demand satisfaction,” Ilya said, standing as tall as he could to challenge the boy. The boy laughed again and held his hand forward to accept the challenge. They shook hands, both clammy from the warm day.

“In what contest shall we battle? Chess, historical knowledge, poetry writing,” the boy said, a grin widening on his face. Ilya pretended to think for a second, the idea already formed in his head.

“Wrestling,” Ilya said, continuing to load the wood into the chest. “Troy and I meet in the stable yard for chores after supper. See if you can beat me.” The boy’s face flashed determination at the mention of competition. He nodded and turned to walk away, but looked back.

“What is your name?” the boy asked. Ilya stopped loading the wood and brushed his hands off. He could feel it again. 

“Ilya,” he said and there it was, snapping inside him once again. “Yours?” he asked, forcing his feet to stay planted to the ground and his heart to slow down. He almost didn’t catch the look of confusion on the boy’s face.

“Um- I’m um- Shane,” he said, uncertainly. He looked at Ilya as if he should already know that, despite this being their first meeting. Ilya ignored it.

“See you later, Shane,” Ilya said and resumed loading the wood.

“I told that kid Shane to come by later,” Ilya said as he dropped the box of letters onto the ground and pulled the candle, waxes and stamps from his pockets. He set himself up at the table as Troy mucked out Aldred’s stable.

“What?” he shouted, coming out with a shovel full of muck.

“That kid, Shane, he talked to me today. I told him to come by and wrestle with us,” Ilya said, lighting his candle and setting up the stand to melt wax.

“Who is that kid, Shane?” Troy said, scowling at him again. Troy didn’t have to try that hard to scowl; he just did it naturally. 

“You know everyone. There’s not more than one Shane?” Ilya said, shrugging at him. Troy dropped his shovel in the wheelbarrow.

“There’s only one Shane. But he’s not that kid, Shane, you absolute moron,” Troy said, putting his hand over his face. Ilya held up his hands in faux shock.

“I have seen him twice and he just said his name was Shane. What have I done to offend you?” Ilya asked, rolling his eyes at Troy now.

“You have lived here for six months. How do you not know who he is?” Troy said, picking up his shovel again and going back into the stall.

“I didn’t get a list of every person visiting the castle, Barrett. I just met a guy who said his name was Shane. Who is he? The fucking king?” Ilya said, scoffing at Troy. Troy walked out of his stall and stared at him. Ilya looked back at him. “Fuck off, he’s not the king. He’s too young.”

Troy kept staring.

“Barrett, Barrett, please fucking tell me he’s not the prince.”

Troy kept staring.

“He asked my name, so I asked his. He just said Shane. Not Prince Shane of Hollander. That’s not fair. I don’t go to court.”

Troy finally rolled his eyes.

“To be fair to you, he isn’t around all that much. He goes to a school out in the country. He’s learning how to write laws and how to dance. I’m shovelling shit out of stalls,” Troy said, his real scowl settling on his face now.

“At least people don’t come and show you the demons in their penis,” Ilya said, scrunching his face in disgust at the thought of the man with so many boils that it looked as if he would burst.

“No, yeah. I don’t want to look at moldy penises. Ok, you win,” Troy said, grabbing the hay hook to take a bale from the back of the yard. Ilya stood and grabbed the other. They lifted it easily together. “You’re still a moron though. Making a prince introduce himself.” Troy said, shaking his head.

The sharp edges of the circle were ruffled and fraying by the time the third boy appeared in the yard. Ilya’s letters had been sealed and were stacked neatly in the box. The stalls were fresh and the feed had been refilled. All there was to do in the evening was talk, or see the girls in the village, or wrestle.

So they were wrestling. They had both taken their shirts off a few rounds ago after Troy had ripped his sleeve. He’d chastised Ilya by chasing him around the yard with a shovel.

Shane stood in the archway of the yard door and watched the two slim boys throw each other around.  They both wore determination on their faces as they fought, grappling for control.

It ended with Ilya holding one of Troy’s arms and kneeling on him. They fell apart, with Ilya laughing and rolling off of Troy. He opened his eyes with his head flung back and caught the vision of Shane upside down, smiling at him.

Ilya scrambled up and just stood there. He didn’t bow - he was not allowed - but Troy bowed his head.

“Very impressive,” Shane said, clapping his hands together once. 

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Troy said.

“You came,” Ilya said, stepping forward and clapping Shane on the shoulder. It was a good shoulder, firm but slim.

“Yeah, everyone else in the castle is- I don’t see many people my age when I’m home,” Shane said, shrugging a little under Ilya’s hand. He had forgotten to remove it. He removed it now.

“This is Troy. He’s apprenticed to the saddler,” Ilya said, pointing to Troy, who bowed for the second time. Ilya scoffed and noted it for later.

“Yeah, Wyatt, right? His gear is really high quality. You must learn a lot,” Shane said, smiling at Troy, who nodded.

“Yeah, he’s great. He works me really hard though. We have done all the chores, sire. We’re just looking after the horses now,” Troy said, rambling a little in his worry. Ilya narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m glad?” Shane said and his mouth pulled into a tight smile.

“Shut up, Barrett. Ignore him. He has to follow stupid but very important rules for princes,” Ilya said, going across to Troy to grab him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

“Fuck off,” Troy said, pushing Ilya away and going to grab his shirt.

“You don’t follow the rules, I notice,” Shane said, once their antics had finished.

“No, Wiebe says I’m not allowed,” Ilya said with a small shrug. “Wicce is not for the control of humans, especially not those in power. We are the guardians. You must respect us as we respect you,” Ilya intoned, reciting what Wiebe always said when Ilya asked.

“Ok. That’s easy. Better than the boys at school who said that they didn’t fucking care and spat at me, so-“ Shane cut himself off with a shrug.

“Assholes,” Troy muttered and then looked at Shane with wide eyes.

“Yeah, assholes,” Shane said, nodding at Troy. Troy’s mouth quirked up a little at that. Troy pointed at a chair for Shane to sit and took the other for himself. 

“Yeah, assholes,” Ilya said pointedly at Troy and walked into the shed to get a stool.

They sat down together at the table.

—

The first time Ilya had realised he had a familiar was when Wiebe told him to put his fucking cat outside because she was hissing at the frogs.

Ilya looked between the cat, who was glaring suspiciously at the amphibians in the cage, and Wiebe, who was glaring frustratedly at Ilya.

“She’s not mine,” Ilya said, frowning at Wiebe, but going to pick up the cat anyway. Her back flattened when he touched her and picked her up to be cuddled like a baby.

“She’s not my cat, kid,” Wiebe said and then turned back to what he was doing with the frogs. Ilya walked over to the door and stepped outside with her. She looked up at him with big, yellow eyes.

He nodded at her and tickled her chin.

The next time, Ilya was collecting blackberries in the forest and the cat was following him, snuffling in the undergrowth for dormice.

He started to move on, but could still hear her snuffling around into the same bush.

“Cat?” he said, calling to her. “Cat? You need a name,” he sighed standing up again and waiting to hear her rustle. Instead, he heard her stretching and she stepped out of some ferns onto the path.

“I have a name,” she said.

She was human. She was naked. She had big, yellow eyes. 

Ilya looked at her yellow eyes, shut his own and pulled his shirt over his head. He held it out towards her, facing her still. He waited to feel her take it.

“I have a name,” she said again. Ilya opened one eye and saw that she had donned his shirt. He opened the other and looked at her. Her hair was light brown, with dark and light strands, interweaving like tortoiseshell. It was long and bouncy, resting just below her shoulders. Her eyes were yellow and wide. Her nails were long and pointed. Around her mouth, there were flecks of blood from the mouse she had just caught. She was his cat.

“Well?” he said, raising an eyebrow pointedly at her. If she was his cat, he would expect her to be carrying on as she always did, without a care in the world for anyone. 

“Sveta,” the cat said. She raised her eyebrows back at him.

“You’ve never changed into human form before,” he said, gesturing towards her. He looked down at his basket. “Can you eat these?” Ilya asked, pushing the blackberries towards her. She turned up her nose at the offer.

“I do not want to,” Sveta said, looking with disgust at the basket. She licked the blood from around her mouth. “I was tired of you calling me ‘cat.’”

“I will not call you ‘cat’ anymore,” Ilya promised and Sveta nodded. She changed again, the shirt falling around her she shrunk back to a cat again. She yowled from beneath the shirt until he pulled it off her.

The third time, he noticed her behaviour. Sveta did not like to be touched. Oh, she would sling herself over Ilya, rub between his legs, cuddle into him at night. But she didn’t like to be touched. 

Reluctantly, she let Wiebe stroke her when she was feeling generous. She didn’t hiss at Troy as much anymore either, which was progress.

On the night that Shane arrived home from school for the summer, Sveta did something very strange. Shane had walked down to the stable yard to find Ilya, Troy and Sveta spread out, attending to their chores. Ilya was sat in front of a tin bucket that had a small fire inside it. He was burning the blessings that had been written with errors. Shane joined him at the table.

“Hey,” Ilya said, reading the blessing in his head, thanking it and then casting it into the bucket to be cleansed.

“Good evening,” Shane said, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out. 

“Learn much at school?” Ilya said, continuing to thank and burn the blessings.

“The history of empires. More Greek. More Latin. And how to do the basse dance,” Shane said with a shrug. He picked up one of the blessings from the pile.

“Very important,” Ilya replied, looking at Shane and the blessing. Shane went to open his mouth, eyes still focussed on the slip of paper before him.

Ilya reached across the table and slapped a hand across Shane’s mouth.

“Do not read that,” Ilya said, holding his hand over Shane’s mouth until he nodded. He released the other boy. “Say ‘thank you’ to it, then put it in the bucket.”

“This is one of your chores? To say ‘thank you’ to the spells,” Shane said, after he’d cast the spell into the fire.

“Yes, they deserve respect for their work,” Ilya replied. He continued to thank the blessings and cast them away until the fire was burning brightly and the pile of slips was gone.

Somewhere in that time, Sveta had wandered out into the yard and lay at Ilya’s feet to eat the spoils of war.

Shane lent down and rubbed his fingers at her, making a ‘psst’ sound at her.

Sveta barely raised her head, unimpressed and began to hiss. She raised her head from her meal and looked at Shane.

She stopped hissing.

She dropped the half-eaten mouse, and stood, slinking towards Shane as she did.

Ilya watched with amusement as Shane sat unsuspecting of the pain that was coming.

Then Sveta nuzzled Shane’s hand. Ilya was rendered speechless. She rubbed her whole body on his hand. When she had satisfied herself with that, she stretched and pounced up onto Shane’s lap.

“She’s very friendly,” Shane said, stroking her head as she made biscuits on his thighs. 

“No, she is not,” Ilya said, watching wide-eyed as she curled up on Shane’s lap and let herself be stroked.

“She seems very friendly to me,” Shane said, blissful in his ignorance to the pain he had narrowly avoided.

“Yes, let’s hope it lasts.”

When Ilya asked her, many years from then, why she’d always been friendly to Shane, she raised an eyebrow as if it was obvious.

“It is the same for us,” she said and then she slunk off into the bushes without another comment.

—

In the throne room, Ilya stood at Wiebe’s shoulder. Sveta rested herself on Ilya's left foot. 

A line of people stretched out across the room and out of the door. 

The king was late.

“He is late,” Wiebe said, not turning to look at Ilya. Ilya hummed his agreement and shifted his stance a little.

The king flew into the room then, robes trailing behind him, followed by Shane and then the queen. They made their way up to the dais and Shane stood beside Ilya, at his father’s shoulder. The king and queen took their respective thrones. Shane had grown a little before the summer and was almost taller than Ilya now. Ilya liked to stand upright to play down the shrinking gap.

Shane looked at Ilya for a moment and Ilya stuck his tongue out. Shane laughed and knocked their shoulders together. The queen turned and shot Shane a disapproving glance. He straightened and his face was sharpened. He looked directly forward.

“Your Majesties, please may I present Mr John Smyth of Wickham?” the porter said, taking a step back and signalling for the man at the front of the queue to speak.

Ilya listened diligently to the man’s complaint, but watched the queen’s face as he did. She held out her hand for the records of his farm income and the porter moved to give them to her. She looked over them carefully while the king listened openly to the man.

When Mr John Smyth of Wickham had finished, the queen leaned across to the king to speak to him and he nodded along with her. He looked at Wiebe, who looked back at him, unchanged. He nodded.

“Sir, we cannot grant you the money. It is clear that you are a good farmer, but maybe not so good a bookkeeper. 

“Instead, our treasurer will meet with you and help to untangle this mess. Then we will see your farm flourish,” King David said. The queen held out the folder for the porter, who ushered the man towards a side-door.

This continued, a person approaching, the look to Queen Yuna, the look to Wiebe, the kind but honest reply. This was what Ilya had been missing. Court was nonsense, but this was the real meat of Wiebe’s position - advisor to the crown.

Halfway through, Ilya bent down to pick up Sveta, who was pawing at his leg. She climbed happily onto his shoulder, settling down around his neck. He noticed that her tail flicked across Shane’s shoulder, back and forth.

This all lasted until a young woman on a crutch hobbled up to the stage. Her face looked pained.

Shane turned to Ilya immediately and pointed at her leg. Ilya frowned at him. Shane mouthed ‘wrong leg’ at him instead. 

Ilya frowned again.

Shane huffed and turned forward to listen to the story. Two sentences in, he turned back to Ilya and leaned in to speak into his ear. 

“She was limping on the other leg before.” His breath was close to Ilya’s ear and he shivered from it.

Ilya mouthed ‘tell them’ urgently at him but Shane shook his head. Ilya kicked at his ankle. 

“Tell them,” he said, leaning closer. His breath caught at Shane’s ear. Sveta took that opportunity to climb onto Shane’s shoulders and nuzzle at his neck. Shane petted her chin, but shook his head at Ilya.

Wiebe was looking up at them now. Shane nodded towards Wiebe, but Ilya shook his head.

King David looked at Wiebe, who was looking at Ilya, who was looking at Shane.

“No, tell them, Shane,” Ilya said, crossing his arms across his chest and waiting.

Shane looked at him, horrified. He shook his head. Ilya nudged at his ankles again, this time gentler, prodding, encouraging.

“The lady’s limp changed from one side to the other. She isn’t using the crutch correctly either,” Shane said, looking down at his feet as his already quiet voice trailed off into nothing.

King David looked at Wiebe, who looked at Ilya, who looked at Shane, who nodded. They all nodded.

“You will see our physician. And then we will speak again,” David said, looking to the porter to escort her away. Then he turned back to his son and showed him a wide smile. Red flooded from Shane’s neck up to his ears and he smiled back.

Ilya kicked at his ankle again. Shane kicked back.

“Useless boy,” his father had said as they walked up to the guild for the apprentice fair. Ilya walked behind his father and tried to remember not to smile too wide. He was tall for his age, and broad. He got comments from old women about it sometimes. Sometimes they commented on how handsome a man he would turn out to be. 

“No-one will ever take you,” Grigori continued. Ilya did not reply. He just followed his father into the hall, ready to be assessed for his future. 

In the autumn after Ilya turned 15, Wiebe took him back into the forest to forage for mushrooms. They were looking for toadstools with red caps and white spots that Wiebe called Fly Agaric. 

“We will gather some mushrooms for food as well, but don’t eat anything unless I say,” Wiebe said, looking at him carefully. Ilya nodded, following Wiebe into the forest and searching for fungi.

It was Ilya who spotted the toadstools at first, walking off the path to point at them. Wiebe followed and studied them. Then he cut one from the ground to show Ilya its features.

“The red cap is a clue, but there are also the gills underneath that look like this,” Wiebe turned the mushroom in his hand. “And these two rings around the stem.” Ilya looked and then cut one of his own. He looked at the same features that Wiebe had pointed out to him and placed it in Wiebe’s basket.

“How did you learn this?” Ilya asked, picking the remaining mushrooms as Wiebe held the basket for him.

“My master taught me some of it. My mother taught me more. Dottie knows which ones are good to eat. She used to bring me out to the forest when we were kids. The women on the mountain know it all. You will study with them soon,” Wiebe said, dusting off the mushrooms with a small brush and inspecting them.

The journey up the mountain wasn’t as difficult as anyone had expected. The storm that had overcast the castle for weeks was still simply a threat as he climbed up towards the women in their shepherd huts. 

Wiebe had arranged for Ilya to have his own hut in the corner of Julie Foss’ field. He reached it just as the sun was setting, but that made very little difference to the light. He came upon a fire with two women sat in front of it. Two colourful huts sat in the long grass behind them.

The women looked up from the fire as he approached. He bowed his head to them and one cackled, coming forward to help him with his bags.

“Boy, we are not those people. Come and get warm,” she said, shifting some of his load onto her shoulders and taking it to the far cabin. A dog stood from the fire and followed them at a distance. Ilya was glad Sveta had not come.

He followed her to it and then back to the fire. The dog settled again at their feet.

“Julie?” Ilya asked of them cautiously. They obviously knew who he was.

“Yeah, that’s me, chuck,” the women who had greeted him said. “This’s my wife, Caroline. Don’t test her; she’ll have none of it,” Julie said and received a smack from her wife. Julie snuggled into her and was begrudgingly forgiven. Caroline patted her face gently and let her stay close.

“What’s your name then?” Caroline asked, staring him down.

“Ilya,” he said, staring right back. Politeness didn’t mean meekness. Caroline nodded and turned the spit on the fire.

“I got sausages from the farmer over yonder. Tomorrow, you’ll have to find your own food,” Caroline said, still looking at Ilya.

“Wiebe explained,” Ilya said shortly.

“Brandon’s a good egg. We’re surprised he’s taken an apprentice in these parts. He never put much stock in teaching the ungifted,” Julie said, poking the fire and sending up sparks.

“I found it,” Ilya said, without any way to explain further. That’s all he’s had to say to Wiebe.

“We figured. Couldn’t be sending you up t’mountain without the gift. Wouldn’t be much use,” Julie said, grinning at Ilya now. Ilya frowned, not understanding. “You found us? With no map or compass. Just a general heading.”

Caroline looked at him as well now, with her pointed eyebrows raised at him.

“Yeah? He said where you’d be,” Ilya said, confusion threading through his voice.

“No gift? No way you’re finding us. Gotta pass through at least two incantation barriers,” Julie said, a shrug evident in her voice. This was just the way of things.

On the evening of the first real cold snap, the three of them piled into Julie’s hut. The fire was raging and Ilya was sweating through his undershirt. But Julie kept adding logs to the fire until it was roaring.

She sat in front of Ilya.

“Look into the fire. You’ll see,” she said, moving to take off her shoes and sit on the bed. Caroline was cutting bread and cheese for their supper.

Ilya looked into the fire. There was nothing except the shifting of the flames.

There was nothing.

Until there was something.

He caught a flash of a face in the fire, King David’s maybe. He chased it, but it had gone. He looked back into the fire, waiting for something else.

It had been the dead of night when Ilya climbed out of his bedroom window and ran out into the village. A few drunks huddled around the public house, but he ran past them. 

He ran to the steps of the church and flung open the door. He saw the priest, sweeping the floor. Ilya ran to him. 

The priest had turned at the sound of the door and was assaulted by Ilya, who clung to his robes. 

Ilya looked up at him. His eyes were wide and confused. He had a hand on Ilya’s back now.

The door banged again.

Ilya turned.

His father stood in the door.

“Ilya, come here now,” he said, pointing at his feet. Ilya looked back up at the priest. The priest patted his back and shook his head. Ilya released the priest and walked towards his father with his head hung.

Grigori took a fistful of his shirt and dragged him out of the church. Ilya lost purchase a few times, falling to the floor and scrambling up.

“You do not embarrass me that way,” Grigori hissed through his teeth. Ilya just tried to stay on his feet. 

Grigori kicked open their front door and threw Ilya inside. He landed and looked up at his father’s face in the doorway.

He took a shuddering breath, ripping his eyes away from his father’s face in the fire. His body was shaking, even in the heat of the hut.

Caroline was covering him with a blanket and handing him a mug of sweet, milky tea. He wrapped his hands around it and held it towards his mouth. Caroline tapped his hand, prompting him to start drinking.

The dog was by his feet, with its head on his knee. He looked at it and put one hand on its head. It let him.

Julie sat on the bed, looking at Ilya. She had leant back and had crossed her legs. It seemed that she was just waiting for him.

He looked up at her, his eyes a little blurry. They felt raw and dry.

“Y’ alright, chuck?” she asked, nodding quietly to him. He just looked up at her. He was blinking hard.

“He was gone,” Caroline said, her tone filled with anger. She rubbed Ilya’s back and patted his hand again. “Go and start his fire. Now.”

Julie stood and pulled on his boots and coat. She didn’t speak again.

“I am-“ Ilya said, his throat dry as well. He coughed a little bit. Caroline lifted the mug to his lips again.

“Drink the tea, youngun’” she said, turning back to the plate she was making for him.

Julie was kneeling in the wet grass over a sheep which let out a rancid bleat. It tried to move, flailing with a cry. Ilya stood behind her shoulder. 

“No, come here. You need t’know this,” Julie said, waving Ilya to kneel with her.

“What do we do?” Ilya asked, placing his hands near her on the sheep. He could feel the pulsing ball of pain within the sheep.

“We help,” Julie said. She drew an iron ball from her coat and handed it to Ilya. It sat heavily on his palm. “Put the pain into the iron.”

Ilya tried to focus on the pain in the sheep and taking it away. He flinched, feeling the hurt.

“Let the pain go through you t’ iron,” Julie said, watching his face.

Ilya tried again, pulling on the pain and imagining it flowing into the iron. It moved. Just a little at first, but then all at once. The iron began to tingle in his palm and he saw the flares of red appear around his fingers. He could not feel the heat.

The sheep began to settle, closing its eyes and laying its head on the cold grass. 

When the flow had slowed to a trickle, Ilya looked to Julie. She had pulled a knife from her belt and was positioning it on the sheep’s throat.

“Keep going until you feel t’end,” Julie said as she cut deeply into the sheep’s neck. No bleat sounded from the sheep, but its legs spasmed beneath Ilya’s hand. He watched the light go from the sheep’s eyes and the ball of pain dissipate until it was no more.

Ilya dropped the ball onto the ground, where it hissed against the wet grass. It was glowing red in the cold light.

“Get the cart. We’ll take it down to Bob,” Julie said, sitting with her hand over the sheep’s head and whispering blessings over it.

Ilya pulled the cart they had brought over to the sheep. He waited for Julie to finish and said a few blessings of his own for all of them. Then he picked up the sheep and put it as gently as he could into the cart.

In the early spring, Caroline knocked on his door as the sun was descending and handed Ilya a hooded cape. It was long, woollen and dark grey. She was wearing a similar one of her own.

He took the robe from her. She waited. He put it on. She nodded.

“We’re going to a meeting, youngun,” Caroline said and walked down to the other hut.

He followed, walking with Caroline and Julie across the mountain fields to the plateau at the base of the rocky outcroppings. 

A large bonfire awaited them. Gathered around it, in small groups, were more than fifty people wearing robes just like Ilya’s. Different colours, clasps, sleeves, but all the same capes.

In one of the groups, he saw a familiar shape and walked straight to it. Wiebe was here.

Ilya stopped just short of Wiebe’s group, but the man had already turned to greet him. Ilya was scooped up by two large arms into a fierce hug. He tried to return it as best he could.

“My boy, you’ve survived,” he said, drawing back and clasping Ilya’s shoulders.

“I have,” Ilya said, a smirk plastered across his face. He stood at his full height and was almost as tall as Wiebe. The man whistled and clapped Ilya on his shoulder.

“Good. A strong man you will be,” Wiebe said and turned them both to join the conversation.

Eventually, all the little conversations came to an end and the groups circled the fire, sitting on the stumps arranged around it.

Someone spoke, welcoming them to the meeting. Ilya could not see her, because of the fire. He would not look closely at it. Then, the fire split and he could see the woman speaking.

Ilya looked around. All of the people on his side were watching the woman through the fire. He listened.

“-know that it is coming. The spirits have found us, in their way. Brandon, what has the King said?” she concluded, looking across to Wiebe.

“He has told me about tensions Monland and the frustrations his sister had with her family there. He does not know what’s going to happen yet,” Wiebe said, looking across to Ilya briefly and then back to the woman. “I don’t want him to act before it is time. We have to speak to the Queen first and that’ll be a long conversation.” He sighed then, holding his hands out towards the group. Julie, sat by his side, took one.

“We need more iron. The armour won’t be thick enough,” she said.

“We have time. It’s not going to happen tomorrow,” a man on the other side of the fire said. The group nodded.

A few months later, Ilya followed Caroline and Julie through the fields again. The sky was lighter now, just tipping over into true night as they arrived. The bonfire was burning brightly in the centre of the circle of stumps.

Ilya looked around for Wiebe, but could not see him. He clutched the letter in his pocket.

“Are you new as well?” a small voice came from behind him. He turned around to see a girl, a little older than him, shivering in her robe. 

“This is my second time,” Ilya said, frowning at her. He took her arm and they moved towards the fire. “Your first?” Ilya asked, letting her warm her ungloved hands by the fire. She nodded. “You should be wearing gloves.”

“My mistress said I needed to look presentable,” she said with a shrug. Ilya looked around and caught Caroline's eye. He maintained his frown and nodded towards the girl. “I’m Margey,” she continued when he looked back down at her.

“Ilya,” he said, watching for Caroline as she made her way through the crowd. “Margey was not given gloves,” he said when she arrived.

Caroline looked at the girl’s hands and then at her shivering body. 

“I should have known. I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” Margey said to Caroline, who mirrored Ilya’s frown.

“You’re Selina’s girl?” she asked. Margey nodded. Caroline walked off towards the group she had been standing with. 

Ilya pulled his robe off over his head and removed his coat, then his jumper beneath it. He handed it to Margey. She looked up at him, surprised, as he donned his coat and robe again.

“Put it on,” he said. Margey took off her robe to reveal a thin, cotton dress that was clearly her church dress. She pulled on the jumper, feeling its heat from Ilya’s body. It fell to her thighs and past the ends of her hands.

“Looks good on you,” Ilya said and winked.

She smiled at him, warmly.

He looked back to Caroline and finally saw Wiebe.

“I have to go. My master is here,” Ilya said, patting her on the shoulder. She smiled again and watched him leave.

Ilya walked towards Wiebe, who was talking quietly with Julie and Caroline by the edge of the circle. As he got closer, he heard snippets of their conversation.

“ready?”

“He is.”

“Will the prince-“

“-will be.”

By the time he arrived by their sides, the three of them were looking at him. Wiebe smiled and gathered him into another hug, which Ilya tried to return.

“Not long now,” Wiebe said in his ear.

“No?” Ilya replied.

“No.” Wiebe clapped him on the back and stepped back, his hand outstretched. Ilya looked at it. Wiebe looked at it. “The letter?” he said.

Ilya looked up at his face and then pulled the letter from his pocket.

“I do not know if he will be able to-“ Ilya started, but Wiebe waved his other hand dismissively.

“There is a new messenger boy. He will help,” Wiebe said, taking the letter from Ilya’s hand.

“A new boy?” Ilya asked, frowning a little.

“Two, actually,” Wiebe said, putting the letter into the satchel hidden by his robe.

“Oh,” Ilya said, because there wasn’t much else to say.

It was raining on the day he left the mountain. A drizzle that had descended from the clouds, bringing fog and misery with it. Ilya had cleaned his hut, packed his bag and was preparing for the long walk home.

When he stepped out, both Julie and Caroline were waiting on the steps of their hut.

He carried the robe he had been given across to Caroline, extending it out for her to take. She simply held up her hands.

“It’s yours, chuck,” Julie said, raising her eyebrows at him. “One of us now. Can’t escape it that easy.” She stood and gathered him in a hug. Caroline stood as well, squeezing his shoulder over her wife’s arms.

“I will see you at the meeting?” Ilya asked and Julie released him. She smiled at him and patted his cheek.

“You’ll be tired of us soon enough, youngun,” Caroline said and Ilya drew the robe about his shoulders.

He nodded at them both and descended the mountain alone.

—

Ilya brought his chores to the yard the next night, as he had done before. He was surprised to find his usual chair occupied by another boy, younger than him. The boy was stout, with a full chest and stomach, and he had a smile plastered on his face. He smiled even more widely as Ilya approached.

“Hi,” the boy said, enthusiasm radiating from him. He stood to shake hands, but Ilya’s hands were full. Instead, he took the box and set it on the table.

“Hi,” Ilya replied, giving a tight smile of his own in response. He sat down in what he’d always thought of as Troy’s chair and started to go through his work.

“Troy is taking one of the horses to the farrier with Dallas, but they’ll be back soon. I’m Harris,” Harris said. He had a knife and a feather in his hand. He was slicing the feather carefully. 

“Ilya,” Ilya replied and picked up the first rose to start plucking at its petals. He placed them in a smaller box.

“Yeah, I figured. Troy had me read his letter from you. I’m a messenger,” Harris said, not looking up from the feather he was cutting. Ilya did not reply. He had nothing more to say. “You’re Wiebe’s apprentice? Troy said you were sent to the mountain to study with the women there.”

Ilya held his breath for the ridicule that might come.

“That’s so cool. They are incredible. Mysterious and strange, though, right?” Harris asked, looking up finally. Ilya smiled a little at him and nodded.

“Everyone with the gift is a kind of strange,” Ilya said, continuing to pluck the petals from the rose.

“Makes sense. If you know the future, it’s kind of hard to be normal about life, right?” Harris said, holding the feather up to the light for scrutiny. “Can you see the future?” 

Ilya shrugged. “Not yet,” he said. 

And then a raucous noise sounded from the yard. Ilya stood quickly, but Harris stayed in his place.

“It’s just Dallas. He’s always so loud,” Harris said, almost beneath his breath. Ilya hummed and returned to his seat.

A few moments later, Troy and another boy came tumbling into the yard, rough-housing all the way. Ilya stood again.

Troy shoved the other boy away and then turned, looking at Ilya.

“This isn’t my friend, Ilya,” Troy said, looking at Ilya with suspicion. Ilya frowned. “My friend was shorter than me. And much less handsome than this fully grown man in front of me.” Ilya grinned and Troy threw himself around him in a fierce hug.

“Weird,” Ilya heard the other boy whisper under his breath. Ilya glared at him and hugged Troy tightly.

“You look strong,” Ilya said in response to Troy’s compliments. Troy flexed his muscles for a moment and then caught the other boy’s eye. His smile died on his face.

Ilya took his seat again. Harris had not looked up from the feathers.

“Alright, enough of that shit,” the boy said, striding forward with his hand out. “I’m Dallas. I work in the castle,” he continued, puffing his chest out further. 

Ilya took his hand and shook it firmly. If he squeezed a bit harder than necessary, that was no-one’s business but his.

“Ilya,” he said and returned to the flowers.

“Bit lame they’ve got you doing shit with flowers. At least if you’d got frogs or some shit, you could cut them open,” Dallas said, ruffling the petals in Ilya’s box. Ilya grabbed his hand and forcefully pushed it out.

“Do not touch. It can be dangerous,” Ilya said, focusing back on his roses again.

Dallas went to touch it again, but Ilya stopped his hand and pushed it back.

“Come on, man. Leave his stuff alone,” Troy said from behind Dallas. Dallas ignored him.

“How could this shit hurt me?” Dallas said, moving into Ilya’s space.

“You do not know what they will be used for,” Ilya said simply, collecting his things in the box and standing. He was taller than Dallas and just as broad. Dallas stepped back just once. He nodded to Harris, who gave him a tight smile and then looked at Troy carefully. “Good night.”

Ilya strode out of the yard.

Troy appeared at Ilya’s little house the next day.

“I’m sorry about him, man. He’s not- he doesn’t know when to stop,” Troy said, hovering in Ilya’s doorway as he wrote blessings out to be checked by Wiebe.

“I see that,” Ilya said, not looking up. 

“He’ll be normal when you come later. He promised me,” Troy said, shifting his feet. Ilya took pity on him.

“If he is not, I will find somewhere else to do my chores,” Ilya said, putting down his quill and looking at Troy. Troy nodded.

Ilya was finishing his burning as Troy swept the circle into the yard floor. Harris looked down at him, confused.

“What’s this?” he said, looking at the circle.

“Wrestling,” Ilya said, grinning and standing. Harris continued to look confused. “Troy did not wrestle?” he asked Harris.

“No? I think this might be a you and him thing,” Harris said with a shrug. Ilya smiled brighter and went to take his spot on one side. 

Dallas stood then, from his stool at the end of the yard, and stood on the other side of the circle from Ilya.

“Maybe not,” Ilya said under his breath.

Troy looked at the two of them.

“Winner is whoever pins someone for 3 seconds,” Troy said after a moment. 

Then Dallas charged. 

Ilya stepped quickly to the side, letting him fall at his feet. Dallas tried to turn, but Ilya was already on his back, pinning his arm. He counted to three as Dallas thrashed beneath him. Ilya stood, and stepped back from the circle.

Dallas stood, face red and burning. Ilya could see the anger rising in his body. He watched it flow through Dallas’ bones. He has never seen it so clearly before.

“Best of three?” Dallas said and Ilya hesitated. The anger was pulling at him. Ilya nodded and returned to his side of the circle. Dallas took his own place.

This match was slower. They hovered around the edge of the circle, moving from side to side. Dallas growled at Ilya. Ilya just watched his hands. When the other boy finally stepped forward, Ilya dropped to his knee and rolled quickly against Dallas’ legs, tripping him. They scrambled for a few seconds before Ilya took Dallas’s arm and locked it between his legs. 

Dallas squawked and tried to more away, but his arm was trapped. 

Ilya counted down from three.

Harris clapped as Ilya stood up and he bowed deeply. Troy clapped him on the back but went to help Dallas, who was cradling his arm. 

Ilya could see the fury. It was burning so brightly within Dallas.

“We’ve just had more practice,” Troy said as Dallas glared at Ilya over his shoulder.

“Again,” Dallas said in a demanding tone. He pushed Troy roughly out of the way and strode up to Ilya again. “We’ll go again.”

“No, I do not think so,” Ilya said, looking at Troy. Troy stepped forward and grabbed Dallas’ shoulder.

“Dallas, I’ll wrestle,” Troy said, placating and softening himself for the other boy. 

Ilya looked down at Harris, who was focused on his copying work. The work he had all but put away five minutes ago.

Ilya looked back up at Dallas.

“I think I will go to bed,” Ilya said, looking at Harris. “Will you walk with me?” he asked. Harris nodded and started to gather his things. 

Ilya bent to pick up his bucket. Dallas kicked it over, spilling the ashes.

Ilya stood.

Ilya took a lump of iron from his pocket and closed his hand around it. He put his other hand to Dallas’ neck and pulled the anger from him.

Within a second, the iron was red hot and Ilya dropped it into the bucket.

Dallas took a huge breath in, swaying a little. He stood and watched as Ilya and Harris left.

“Good night,” Ilya said to Troy and he walked out of the yard.

Shane returned home for the summer on a warm Tuesday afternoon, the day before Ilya’s 16th birthday. He galloped into the yard, followed by two of the guards. He looked older, more sure of himself, more beautiful than he had ever been. 

Ilya leant against the doorframe and watched him come in, longer hair flowing behind him. One of the stable boys had come to gather his reins, but Shane climbed down to do it himself. He spoke quietly to the horse as he did. 

After a moment, he let the boy take the reins and walked back to speak with the dismounted guards. He shook both of their hands and turned to look up to the castle. 

He smiled.

Ilya smiled.

Shane looked around finally, eyes landing on Ilya. His face broke into a wide grin. He strode towards Ilya, who stood up from the door frame.

“Ilya!” he cheered, his hand held out in front of him as he approached.

Ilya took his hand with both of his own and grasped it carefully. Shane’s other hand came up to wrap around Ilya’s. 

“Shane,” he said quietly. They looked at each other for a long moment, hands tightly clasped between them. Something wound around their legs and Ilya looked down to see Sveta weaving her way around.

Ilya loosened his grip and Shane followed, letting their hands fall.

“I must go to see my parents. Will you be in the yard this evening?” Shane said, his formal tone making Ilya raise his eyebrows. “Shut up. It’s how we’re meant to speak.”

Ilya laughed.

“Come here tonight,” Ilya said, clapping Shane on the shoulder. “We will sit and have good conversation.” Ilya winked.

Shane laughed.

“Sure, I’ll come down,” Shane said, turning to walk away from him. Sveta followed. Ilya stayed in the doorway.

About halfway to the doors, Shane turned and looked at Ilya. Ilya smiled. Shane bent to pick Sveta up and placed her on his shoulders.

Ilya went back inside.

His mama was singing in the kitchen. She always sang when the sun came out. She said it was because she was a bird, waking and sleeping with nature.

Ilya ran out to her, wrapping his arms closely around her. Her dress was fluid around her, moving with the wind, her movement, her happiness.

His mother put one of her hands on his head, holding him closer. They span as she sang her happy tune.

Three days before the summer solstice, Ilya walked to the stable yard alone. He had finished his chores for the night. Harris was sat in Ilya’s old chair and Troy was sat on the stool on the other side of the yard. They were quiet.

“No Dallas?” Ilya asked as he arrived. Harris snorted and Troy scowled at him.

“He’s not allowed out at night anymore,” Troy said, not looking at Ilya.

“What did he do?” Ilya asked and Harris raised his eyebrows at Troy.

“He broke into the wine cellar,” Troy said, standing and picking up the broom. Ilya whistled.

“The public house in the village wouldn’t let him drink there, so he went to the wine cellar. One of the guards found him trying to open a cask,” Harris said. 

“Nice friend,” Ilya said, looking at Troy, who just shrugged. “Who gets kicked out by Carter? That man loves a drunk,” Ilya asked, turning back to Harris.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t like when people call his sister a bitch when they try and grope her,” Harris said. Ilya’s eyes opened wide and he turned to Troy.

“Troy,” he said, waiting for the other boy to look at him. His voice was firm.

“I know. He’s not- I know,” Troy said, his voice quiet and his eyes cast down.

“You should have seen it when Troy found out. He shouted really loudly,” Harris said, blushed a little around his ears. Troy scratched behind his ear and started to sweep a circle in the middle of the yard.

“Good for you,” Ilya said. “He is a dog.” He thought for a moment. “No, dog is too nice for him. He is a rat, vermin, a disease carrier.” Harris laughed loudly and Troy winced a little at the noise.

“Definitely diseased,” Harris said, nodding.

“Who’s diseased?” Shane said from the doorway. They all turned towards him and Harris shot out of his chair.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” Harris said, bowing deeply at Shane, who looked down at him with surprise. Troy bowed just his head and then continued to sweep the floor.

Ilya walked forward, a small smile on his lips.

“One of the porters,” Ilya said, clapping Harris on the shoulder. “Do not be scared of little old Shane, Harris. He is a good one.” 

“Don’t listen to Ilya,” Troy said, looking up from his sweeping. “He’s still a prince. Welcome home, Your Highness.” Shane looked across to Troy and smiled at him, offering a small wave.

Shane walked forward and sat in the spare seat, rolling up his sleeves.

“Who’s going first?” Shane asked, looking between the others. Harris held up his hands.

“Not for me, sire,” he said. “I just watch.” Shane smiled at him again.

“I’ll take the winner of you two,” Shane said then, pointing between the two other boys.

Ilya shrugged and looked at Troy who nodded. He put down the broom and took up his position at the side of the circle. Ilya joined him, rocking from side to side, waiting to pounce.

Troy moved first, pushing out to hit at Ilya’s head. Ilya defended quickly, pushing him away. Then he pounced, twisting and pulled Troy down towards the floor. 

Troy scrambled away, putting distance between them again. Troy scowled at Ilya, who was grinning at him.

Then, Ilya hit out at Troy’s legs with his own and pushed him down to the floor again. Ilya pinned him down, but Troy broke away for a moment. 

Ilya grabbed at his hand, pushing it down to the floor and snarling a little.

“3, 2, 1,” Ilya called out and pulled himself from the floor. He stood, moving back to the edge of the circle and letting Troy get up.

“Come on then, Princey. Show me your superior royal ability,” Ilya said, beckoning Shane forward. Shane grinned at him.

“Is he allowed to-?” Harris whispered to Troy.

“He wrestles with us all the time,” Troy said, shrugging. 

“No, Ilya.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s a status thing. Ilya explains it pretty well,” Troy said with a shrug.

Ilya and Shane began to circle each other, both low to the ground. Ilya reached out, but his hand was slapped away by a smirking Shane. Ilya smirked back. 

Shane surged forward, grabbing at Ilya’s waist and falling backwards. They landed with an ‘oof’ but Shane rolled quickly, moving out to lean over Ilya.

Ilya took a breath.

Then he pulled on one of Shane’s arms and pushed on the other shoulder. He flipped them and straddled Shane’s waist, trying to gain purchase on his arms and pin him.

Shane took a breath.

Shane pushed his legs up and dislodged Ilya for a moment, turning to try to get to his feet.

Then Ilya was up, digging his knees into Shane’s lower back. He straddled him again, and reached out to pin his arms. His body lay flush over Shane’s holding him down to the ground.

Their faces were close together and Ilya whispered “3, 2, 1,” into his ear, then stood.

Shane stayed on the ground for a second, flexing his wrists and arms.

“Is he dead?” Troy said, watching as Shane laid on the ground.

“Fuck off. I’m not dead,” Shane said, rising to his knees now. “You’re stronger than you were.” Shane looked up at Ilya and there it was. Ilya felt it again.

“Sheep are heavy,” Ilya said in reply, looking down at Shane. His face was red and a little sweaty and there was dirt smeared across one cheek. He looked beautiful.

“Ok, again. I’m gonna beat you,” Shane said, moving to the edge of the circle and bending down to wrestle again.

Ilya laughed and took his own place.

Sveta had gotten tired in the forest, she had said, and demanded that Ilya carry her home. He laughed, slinging her over his shoulders in her human form until she thrashed. He set her down, let her return to a cat and let her climb his body to get there herself.

She purred.

When they reached the village, Ilya saw Sophie, one of the girls who worked in the washrooms. She was leaning against a wall and watching him.

As they neared, Sveta jumped down from her perch and wandered into the castle walls by herself.

Ilya slowed, looking at Sophie. She was looking back at him with the smallest smile on her face.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall next to her.

“Hey,” she replied, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “It’s good that you’re back.” Ilya smiled a little down at her and turned his body so his shoulder was leaning against the wall instead.

“Yeah, I missed this place,” Ilya said, his voice dropping as low as he could manage. 

“We missed you,” Sophie said, smiling at him. Then suddenly, she kissed his cheek and stepped back.

“Thanks,” Ilya said and Sophie smiled again. “I have to- but if you wanted to- the solstice party is tomorrow.”

“Are you going?” Sophie asked, looking down at her hands.

“I’ll go if you come with me,” Ilya said, putting his finger under her chin and tilting it up to look into her eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’d like that,” she said, her voice a little breathy.

“Good. I have to go now, but I will meet you by this gate tomorrow?” he asked and Sophie nodded.

Ilya leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips carefully to her cheek.

He walked to his little house and found Sveta sat in one of the chairs waiting. He rolled his eyes and threw a tunic at her. She pulled it over her head, hissing a little at it.

“She is not yours,” Sveta said, her displeasure beating through her words. Ilya sat heavily in the chair opposite her.

“Who is?” Ilya said, tapping his fingers on the table. “You seem to know everything, Sveta.”

“You do not need me to tell you. You feel it. I see you,” Sveta said and stood to retrieve the milk for herself.

“That is- Life is unfair. And we have to live it anyway,” Ilya said, shrugging at her.

“You have not looked in the fire to see the future. I know you can,” Sveta asked, milk dribbling from her chin to her neck and onto Ilya’s shirt. 

“Ignorance is bliss, dear Sveta. What I don’t know can’t hurt me,” Ilya said, pushing the heel of his hands into his eyes. This was an unexpected conversation.

“A strange opinion for a master of Wicce,” she said. Then she dropped the tunic from her body, transformed and sauntered out the door.

Ilya sighed and went to clean up the mess she had made.

—

Guests had been arriving for days leading up to the party. The stables were full and Troy was leading horses out onto the fenced meadows instead. Harris was flying back and forth between the household staff.

Ilya was standing. He had been standing for two hours already, as relatives, friends and guests of the royal family arrived and greeted them in the throne room. Wiebe was there, so he was there.

“You need to know who these people are,” Wiebe said, prodding him in the ribs. “They are important.” Ilya grunted back at him, but stayed standing by his side.

Occasionally, Ilya would catch Shane’s eye and they’d exchange a look, or a roll of the eyes, or a very discreet hand gesture. Ilya smiled at him every time.

There now, at the front of the line, was the party from Landry, a small island country not far from Hollander. And with them was Princess Rose. She sparkled in the sunlight, Ilya could see. So could Shane, because his face had broken open into a wide grin. 

She waved at him, and was chastised by her mother. The princess then pretended to be very serious and Shane’s grin only grew.

She curtsied deeper than most and kissed the hands of each of the Hollanders. Shane laughed when she did it to him.

Ilya felt it rise up in his stomach again. It was not light this time. It was cold and burning hot; it was a deep pressure in his gut; it was a skipped heartbeat or two.

He stayed with Wiebe for the rest of the afternoon, the pit of his stomach raging with the gift in a way he’s never felt before.

“I need a wife,” Grigori slurred as Ilya and Alexei sat in front of the fire and kept warm. Neither of them spoke. 

“I cannot care for you. You need a mother,” he continued, waving the tankard filled to the brim around. It spilled voraciously, puddling out onto the table, the chair, the floor.

Ilya looked at Alexei, who should have been at the guild a year ago.

“I’ll tell you, women are useless for everything except one thing. And even then, the men do the most important bit.” 

Ilya poked his toes underneath Alexei’s thigh. Alexei put his hand on his brother’s ankle.

The night had settled over the castle before the party began. It would run until the morning, where they all would watch the sunrise. The candles were blazing, casting a bright orange glow over the main hall. 

Wiebe and Ilya were stood just inside the doors, watching the frivolities.

“Be careful tonight,” Wiebe said, letting his eyes drift over the party. “The veil is thin. Do not drink. Tomorrow, we will meet with the Queen.” Ilya looked across at Queen Yuna, who had a goblet in her hand and was merrily swinging around the room with her husband.

“She will want to meet with us after tonight?” Ilya asked, gesturing at her.

“The Fae Queen,” Wiebe said. Ilya turned to question him, but was cut off by another voice.

“Ilya, will you dance with me?” Sophie said, her voice quiet amongst the din. Ilya looked down at her, as did Wiebe. “Sorry, Your Grace, may I take Ilya from your company?” She curtsied a little and Wiebe laughed, putting a heavy hand on Ilya’s shoulder.

“If that is what you wish,” Wiebe said and Ilya held out his hand to Sophie. They made their way into the main room and joined the dancing. It was repetitive, but Sophie was smiling and laughing.

Ilya noticed that Rose was also smiling and laughing as they rotated around the room. And that Shane was following closely after her. He tried not to look.

He did look. He caught Shane’s eye. He looked away.

Ilya was standing next the doors again when he watched Shane break away from the dance to walk towards him. They locked eyes before Shane was near him and Ilya couldn’t bear to look away. 

Shane arrived in front of him, almost breathless, and took his hand.

“Walk with me,” Shane asked. Ilya nodded and Shane led him by the hand out of the castle. They walked side-by-side, fingers still touching so sparingly. 

When they reached the gate out towards the forest, Shane turned back towards Ilya.

“You shouldn’t dance with that girl,” Shane said, looking down at their barely linked hands. Ilya flexed his fingers a little and felt Shane’s tighten. He relaxed his hand.

“You cannot give me orders,” Ilya said, looking at their hands as well. 

“I’m not. I’m asking,” he said, and he started walking again. He pulled them out of the walls, into the darkness of the meadows beyond.

“And if I say, I do not want you to dance with the princess?” Ilya said, his heart in his throat. He knew what happened when two people went on a walk outside the walls.

“Then, I would say ok. I can skip dancing if that’s what you want,” Shane said, squeezing his hand around Ilya’s properly. Ilya’s heart fell out of his mouth entirely. It took all the moisture with it and left him with a tongue that couldn’t move.

Ilya stopped and turned towards Shane. They were close to the wall and Ilya shifted them so Shane’s back was against it. Ilya leant an arm against the wall, hand just by Shane’s head.

“Is that what you want?” Ilya asked, looking down at Shane. They could barely see, but Ilya could tell that Shane’s mouth was very slightly open. He wanted to touch it.

He brought his thumb up to stroke at Shane’s chin, jaw, lower lip. Shane breathed out heavily.

“Yes,” Shane whispered.

A sudden cry sounded around one of the walls and Ilya stood back from Shane. They both looked towards it and waited.

Instead of a cry, there was a gruff noise and the crack of a heavy slap. Shane started running. Ilya followed after him, a little more cautiously.

When Ilya arrived, he found Shane wrenching Dallas from the ground. A girl laid on the floor beneath him. Ilya could not see anything clearly.

Shane forced Dallas against the wall as he tried to fight back. “Do you see me? I am your prince,” Shane said, wrestling Dallas’ head until he saw Shane’s face. He fell still then, defeated.

Ilya bent to speak to the girl - Esther Vaughn, the publican’s sister. 

“I have you now. We will find the guard and we will find your brother,” he said, helping her to sit up. She was sobbing now and Ilya rubbed her back carefully. 

Ilya stood, looking at Shane. 

“We should go in together. Walk with him ahead of us. I will stay with Esther and walk with her,” Ilya said and Shane nodded. He hauled Dallas from the wall and started to walk, both hands firmly gripping his shirt.

Ilya helped Esther stand, but her knees wobbled even as he held her.

“I will carry you,” he said and waited for her answer. When none came, he gathered her into his arms and carried her back towards the gate he and Shane had left through.

By the time they reached it, Shane was handing Dallas off to a guard and a small gaggle of people were crowding around the gate.

“Essie?” one of the women said, hand over her mouth. One of the others ran into the party, presumably to collect Carter.

“Ladies, we need to go somewhere safe and quiet,” Ilya said and one of the older women beckoned him to follow her into the laundry rooms. Once there, he sat Esther on a chair and stepped back. He remained in the room, but did not interfere with the women who were checking over the girl. They brought her tea and thrust a second mug into his hands.

He drank it and waited for the cavalry to arrive.

As the sun was about to rise, Ilya, along with several hundred drunken party goers, made their way out to the meadows on the east side of the castle.

Ilya followed Wiebe to the front of the group. Wiebe removed his shoes and stood with bare feet on the grass. He motioned for Ilya to do the same.

“You’ll feel it now,” Wiebe said, as the sky brightened.

Shane came up beside them, brushing his hand against Ilya’s. Ilya removed his boots and flung his arm around Shane’s shoulder just as the sun peeked over the horizon.

Wiebe was right. 

He could feel it now.

—

A week later, Shane appeared at Ilya’s door. He leant against it and watched as Ilya cut bread and cheese.

“My father is meeting with Wiebe. I thought you might be free,” Shane said, startling Ilya from his work. Ilya looked up at Shane and pulled a basket from the hook on the wall. He put the bread, cheese, some butter and some milk into the basket.

“I was going to the forest for berries,” Ilya said, walking towards Shane. Shane smiled and moved so Ilya could close up his little house. 

They walked out to the forest quietly. Sveta was out hunting somewhere and would not miss them. Wiebe was with the king and would not miss them. 

As they reached the edge of the path, Shane took Ilya’s hand and they stepped into the forest together. 

“Dallas is in the castle jail for now. And then he’ll go back to his village. He cannot work for the king,” Shane said, squeezing Ilya’s hand.

“He should have his penis cut off. Or put in a cage, maybe,” Ilya mused, squeezing right back. Shane laughed and leant in towards Ilya’s shoulder, resting his head there for a moment.

“I’ll make a note to tell my father. I’m sure he’ll agree,” Shane said. They reached a patch of wild strawberries and began to pick them. 

“There is a clearing not far from here. We can sit,” Ilya said, standing back when he thought they had enough. “We can come back later.”

Shane stood as well. Ilya extended his hand and they continued to walk into the woods.

The clearing was small, but was covered in a blanket of pine needles. It was soft enough to sit for a while. Ilya knelt first, placing the basket down and letting Shane find his spot.

They sat there, not far from each other and breathed. There was a robin in one of the trees, chirping away, defending their little clearing.

“We were interrupted,” Shane said eventually. He looked up towards where the robin was singing, waiting to spot it. “The other night.”

“Yes, we were,” Ilya agreed. He looked directly at Shane. He could feel it again, burrowing into his skin. It grew every time he looked at Shane.

“It was a good moment to stop if you did not want-“ Shane started to say, but stopped. 

“It was not a good moment to stop,” Ilya replied. He watched Shane let out a heavy breath.

“No, it was not,” Shane said, a little quietly. He looked at Ilya again for a moment and then back to the forest.

“Is it complicated for you?” Ilya asked, not sure what he meant, but hoping Shane would.

“Not yet. Maybe when I’m king. But we can figure that out when we get there,” Shane said with a shrug. Ilya shifted closer to Shane, who looked down at Ilya’s body with bright eyes. Ilya took his chin in his hand, a little forcefully, and pulled Shane’s face to look at him properly.

“I am going to kiss you now,” Ilya said and Shane nodded. Ilya leaned in, holding Shane very still and pressed their lips together. It was dry and hard and perfect.

Ilya pulled back, licked his lips and tried again. This time, their lips slid together gently, openly lightly. They breathed heavily through their noses. Ilya felt it flow through him.

Shane’s hand found its way up to Ilya’s chest and planted itself over his rapidly beating heart. Ilya’s own hand moved to cradle Shane’s jaw. 

After a moment, Ilya pulled back, searching Shane’s face carefully. Slowly, Shane opened his eyes and looked at Ilya’s face, not too far from it. 

“We should eat before I cannot help myself,” Ilya said, pulling the basket towards them. Shane nodded, blush settling deep on his cheeks, and sat upright to take a strawberry.

Wiebe was in the courtyard when Ilya and Shane arrived back from the forest. He did not look surprised. Ilya was quite surprised that he did not look surprised. 

Ilya left Shane to walk into the castle and hurried over to Wiebe.

“You knew,” he said, whispering as Wiebe continued on with his load of wood for the store.

“Yes,” Wiebe whispered back with the same conspiratorial tone.

“How?” Ilya asked, taking wood from the pile to carry himself. Wiebe tutted, but let him.

“I looked in the fire,” Wiebe said with a shrug. 

They reached the wood store. Ilya dropped his few logs in and let Wiebe drop in his own.

They were opposite Ilya’s little house. Ilya ushered Wiebe inside.

“What did you see?” Ilya asked, a little frantically. He stood, his foot tapping against the ground.

“I cannot tell you that. It was not yours to see,” Wiebe said and Ilya huffed at him.

“You will tell Shane?” Ilya asked, pushing his head forward expectantly. Wiebe shook his head.

“I am not here for Shane.”

“David then?” 

This time, Wiebe considered it for a minute.

“If he asks the right question, I might.”

Ilya stopped moving and waited. 

“You can look into the fire for yourself, you know? I know Caroline said you had a bad experience, but we can try again,” Wiebe said, sympathetically. Ilya shook his head.

“I did not see the future,” Ilya said quietly. Wiebe nodded and gestured to a chair for Ilya to sit.

“I didn’t either. Not the first few times. The past came back as clear as day,” Wiebe said and Ilya listened. “The first time, it was my mother giving me a present when I was very young. Then it was the first time I saw Dottie. After that, I don’t remember. But I remember seeing the future for the first time. It hasn’t happened yet, but it was really frightening to see. And to know it would happen and there was nothing I could do to change it.”

Ilya sat quietly. Wiebe did as well. They both waited.

“I saw the first time I tried to run away from home. I got as far as the church before my father dragged me home. I was 7,” Ilya said, in a true whisper. He couldn’t make his voice any louder. “I do not want to see the past. Not before you.”

“You might not. I still see the past sometimes,” Wiebe said and looked at the currently lifeless stove. “It helps if the fire is open. Like the bad memories have somewhere to escape to. We should try in the Great Hall.”

“Would we be allowed?” Ilya asked and nodded when Wiebe shot him a look of derision. “That was a stupid question. Yes.”

A few days later, Ilya sat on a comfortable chair with his feet tucked under him, staring into the hearth of the Great Hall. He shifted a little to get settled.

“Just watch and wait. I’ll be here,” Wiebe said.

So Ilya did. He watched and he waited.

He caught a glimpse of a face he didn’t recognise until it retreated. Two more, Shane and a soldier, laughing.

And then-

A battlefield. Soldiers fighting and slain. Bodies everywhere. Chaos. Wiebe in a suit of armour. David in a suit of armour. A man running towards them, sword outstretched. He hit David-

Ilya took a shuddering breath. Wiebe was stood in front of him, rubbing his chest. 

“Breathe for me, kid,” Wiebe said, rubbing carefully. Ilya tried, tried to take in great gasps of air. Wiebe moved his arms out to his sides and tilted his head back a little. “Deep breath, Ilya.”

One of the maids and a porter had appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits and a small table.

He took in another breath. The maid looked at him with deep concern as she made him a cup of sweet, milky tea. 

“Ta,” he said weakly and Wiebe patted his shoulder.

“That was a big one,” he said, handing Ilya the cup. Ilya took a long drink. Wiebe handed him a biscuit. Ilya put the whole thing in his mouth and chewed. He took another long drink. He swallowed.

“It was shorter than before,” Ilya said, noticing the tears in his eyes that had not fallen.

“You were gone for a while. Julie said you went somewhere the first time. I don’t go anywhere usually. Just flickers of faces,” Wiebe said, sitting in his own chair.

“I was on a battlefield,” Ilya said and Wiebe nodded.

“I wondered whether you had seen that. With me and David?” Wiebe asked, cautiously. Ilya nodded in return. He reached out for a biscuit of his own and nudged it nearer to Ilya. “You can tell me things if you want. But you cannot tell anyone else, Ilya. You have to understand that. You cannot tell anyone. Not Shane. No-one.”

Ilya paused then nodded.

“But if he asks me to look?” Ilya asked and Wiebe waved his hand 

“You can tell him enough to answer the question. No details. People tangle themselves up in this.”

“Do you think I will tangle myself up in it?” Ilya asked, his voice raked with concern. Wiebe leant forward and put a large hand on his knee.

“No. You are too stubborn.”

Summer was fading into Autumn when Shane walked into Wiebe’s workshop. Ilya was in the storeroom, organising the ingredients for their work. Wiebe was writing blessings.

“Hello, young man,” Wiebe said, a little louder than necessary. “Looking for someone?” Ilya peeked around the doorway to see Shane taking the seat in front of Wiebe’s desk.

“You, actually,” Shane said. Wiebe put his quill down and looked carefully at Shane.

“I am not your advisor, Shane,” Wiebe said. Ilya ducked back into the storeroom.

“No, I know.” Shane took a deep breath. “My father said he asked you to look at my future when I was born. I came to ask what you saw.”

“Ah. It was a long time ago. I cannot tell you much,” Wiebe said honestly. “Ilya will help you with specific details, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, I um- I can’t ask him about this,” Shane said, stumbling over his words.

“I see. In that case, ask your question and we’ll see.”

Another deep breath.

“Am I- why you went- to get him? Is he-?” Shane asked quietly, in little pieces. Ilya did not hear Wiebe’s reply.

“As for the other question, I think you already know the answer. You can feel it,” Ilya heard Wiebe pause for a second. “Yes, I’ve known for a few years now.”

“Ok, um- yeah, thanks then,” Shane said and Ilya heard the scrape of a chair on the stone floor. He heard Shane’s rushed footsteps. He heard the door shut.

He poked his head out and Wiebe was looking directly at him.

“Hear much?” Wiebe said with a sly smile on his face.

—

Ilya should have known by the hut in the open meadow by the forest that something was up.

He didn’t tend to notice the amount of people in and around the castle. It fluctuated so much that he wasn’t ever sure what was coming and going.

Sveta was passing in front of him and threaded neatly through the gate. 

Ilya was not so lucky. A guard stepped forward and stopped him. He looked down at the hand on his chest and then up at its owner.

“Excuse me?” Ilya said, pushing the hand off of him. “Can I go inside, please?” His tone was indignant. In all the time he had lived here, no-one had ever stopped him from entering the castle walls.

“Papers,” the guard said sternly, holding out his hand again. This time, it was palm up.

“I do not have papers. I am the apprentice to Brandon Wiebe,” Ilya said, thoroughly confused at that interaction. The guard did not move. “Sveta!” he called. 

The cat turned around and looked at him. She trotted back a few steps.

“Sveta, get Wiebe or Troy or fucking Shane to come get me please,” Ilya said, watching as she trotted off into the castle. Ilya stepped back a little way and stood with his arms crossed, looking at the guards.

“You are new,” Ilya said, as conversationally as he could.

“We can’t tell you that,” said the one who had demanded his papers. They were both tall, but this one had a mousy look about him. Big ears and a squirrelly nose. 

“Is not a question. I am telling you. You are new. I know this because I am not new,” Ilya said, raising his eyebrows at them both.

“You could just be saying that,” said the second guard. He was dark and quite handsome. He had rugged features and a scar across one side of his face.

“Sveta, I’m going. Stop hitting me,” Shane said, walking out of the door. Ilya hadn’t really meant for her to go get Shane, but he was probably nearest. “Ilya, why are you outside?” Shane said, seeing Ilya now. The two guards whipped into attention. He was dressed in his army regalia and looked incredible, frankly. His chest, which was getting broader by the day, was wrapped in the navy wool of the coat. The little adornments were red and white, brightening the jacket. 

“I am outside because I went to the forest, like I do every single day. And these men will not let me back in,” Ilya said, gesturing forcefully and with clear frustration. Shane looked at the guards with expectation in his eyes.

“He doesn’t have any papers, Your Highness,” the first guard said.

“Papers? What is papers?” Ilya said, turning around in anger. “Shane, please.”

“This is Ilya. He is my- the Royal Advisor’s apprentice. He is the 7th most important person in the castle,” Shane said, beckoning Ilya through. The guards did not block him this time. “We will get you some papers so you can go to the forest.”

“Thank you, Shane,” Ilya said pointedly to him, loud enough for both guards to hear him. “7th most important?” he asked more quietly to Shane. He bent to pick Sveta up, carrying her in his arms like the princess she was.

“Yeah, my mum, my dad, me, Wiebe, Dottie, Frank, you, then some other people,” Shane said, waving his hand dismissively. Ilya thought for a moment. 

“Your parents, my parents, the Head Butler, then me?” Ilya said. Shane scoffed.

“Dottie and Wiebe are not your parents,” Shane said, frowning at Ilya as he followed him towards his little house. 

“No, they are better because they are alive and did not try to sell me,” Ilya said, attempting a dry laugh that got caught in his throat. “No, I am concerned about why Frank is closer to you than I am. I have competition now?” 

“Yes, you ass. I yearn for Frank, the 50 year old man who sniffs every five seconds and hates rugs. That makes perfect sense,” Shane said, grumbling away to himself as he opened Ilya’s door and stepped inside.

Sveta followed quickly and slunk off into the bedroom. Shane held the door for Ilya and then closed it behind them. Ilya placed the basket from the woods on the table and turned to Shane.

Shane, who was looking up at him with beautiful brown eyes. Ilya cupped his cheek and kissed him gently.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Ilya whispered against his lips. Shane pulled back a little and looked at Ilya. His hands made their way to Ilya’s waist.

“You are welcome. Sveta is a battering ram. It’ll bruise,” he said, pretending to rub at his calf muscle.

“What are soldiers doing here?” Ilya said, looking out into the yard. Shane frowned at him.

“How do you not know about the war?” Shane asked and Ilya looked at him, surprised. This was a regular topic at the  meetings on the mountain now.

“I know about the war. I thought you might not know yet. I didn’t know it was starting today,” Ilya said, pulling the curtains over the windows a bit tighter.

“Ok, good. Yes, it is starting today,” Shane said, looking mildly relieved. “So yes, but my dad sent me to come get you. We have to meet with him and Wiebe and a woman who looks like she lives with sheep. Not negatively. She just gives off sheep energy.”

“I will come in a minute,” Ilya said, sliding his hands down Shane’s back. “I have just one thing to do first.” And then Ilya kissed Shane and backed him up into the wall next to the door. Shane’s hands circled around Ilya’s hips, pulling them close.

They kissed for a few minutes, maybe five, probably more, until Shane pushed Ilya back off of him.

“This is almost as bad as the wrestling,” Shane said under his breath. He brushed down the front of his jacket and pulled at the fabric of his trousers.

“What about wrestling?” Ilya said, chasing Shane’s attention with his eye contact.

“I had a- reaction to it,” Shane said, going red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck.

“Oh?” Ilya said, pushing himself back into Shane. Shane immediately pushed him back. 

“Fuck off,” Shane said, a deep blush rising on his cheeks. “We have to go see my father. And your father apparently.”

The king’s private study was full. Shane opened the door and immediately hit a guard. Whilst Shane was profusely apologising, Ilya slithered past, moving into the room and towards Wiebe.

David saw him first. “Ilya, did Shane- Ah, boys, good. Come here,” David said, beckoning him and Shane over to the table that was covered with a map and little wooden figures. Ilya could feel the sweeping energy coming off it.

Ilya went to stand next to Wiebe, looking at Shane across the table.

“You both know what is coming. Importantly, Brandon and I will be leaving to oversee the forces on the ground. Yuna will stay here with you, but she will need your help,” David began, his hand positioned firmly on Shane’s shoulder. 

Ilya looked at Wiebe, frowning at him without asking a question. Wiebe nodded.

“Julie and Caroline are here?” Ilya asked instead. 

“Caroline. They were going to have you again whilst their girl came and trained with me, but-“ Wiebe said, trailing off and gesturing to the table. Ilya looked back at David.

“We’ll discuss the details further over the next week, but I wanted to introduce you to Hayden Pike and Cliff Marleau,” David said and beckoned two of the soldiers closer. They stood to attention in front of the table and Ilya looked at them carefully. Underneath their armour, they both looked young, probably no younger than 20. Cliff looked older, his short beard adding years to his face.

“Ilya, Marleau will be with you and Shane, Pike with be with you,” David finished.

“With me?” Ilya said at the same time that Shane said “Why?”

Shane continued, “I’ve never had a guard before.”

“Yes, you have. When you were young, maybe six. You don’t remember Duncan?” David said, a little quieter and just to Shane.

“The grumpy man who used to shout at me for going outside? He was my guard?” Shane said, a look of shock settling across his face. David and Wiebe both laughed to each other, exchanging knowing looks.

“How will I go to the forest?” Ilya asked Wiebe. Wiebe looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and then at Marleau.

“He’ll have to leave his weapons behind. You’ll figure it out,” Wiebe said as both Marleau and Ilya began to protest. “Off with you now. I will come to the workshop this evening.”

Ilya bowed his head slightly and looked at Shane, who was looking over the battle maps.

“Fine,” Ilya said and walked out of the room with his new shadow.

“You really can’t bring that with you,” Ilya said to Marleau as they prepared to leave his little house the next morning. The sun was barely above the horizon and it was casting a soft pink glow over the castle.

He was stood resolutely in the doorway and pointing to the hooks where Marleau could leave his weaponry.

“I really can. It is my job to protect you,” Marleau said, just as resolutely refusing to take them off.

“The forest will protect me. I do not want you to scare the creatures with the giant hunk of sharp iron hanging from your hip. There are so many reasons why you cannot bring it,” Ilya said, pointing again at the hooks.

“I will leave my sword, but not my dagger,” Marleau said with a sigh. He began to remove the sheath from his belt. Ilya waited without saying anything.

By the time they got to the forest, it was buzzing with noise. Marleau had been late to collect Ilya and the argument had delayed them further.

Ilya traipsed to his rock, whispering a blessing to it and sat down. He removed his shoes and placed his bare feet on the ground. Then he closed his eyes and waited for the forest to come to him.

All he could hear was Marleau’s thick breathing and heavy boots. He opened his eyes and looked at Marleau.

He closed them again.

He waited.

Nothing came.

He looked at Marleau again. He stood and looked at his rock.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing towards the rock for Marleau. Marleau looked at him as if all the lights in his head had been extinguished simultaneously. “If I cannot speak to the forest, there will be a big problem. You are getting in the way with your fidgeting and fucking breathing. Sit.”

Marleau held his hands up in defence and sat on the rock.

“Boots off,” Ilya said and Marleau raised his eyebrows this time, but did it all the same. “You’re going to help me do this. Be quiet and listen. Try to sink into the forest, hide yourself amongst it.”

“That is nonsense," Marleau said, looking Ilya in the eye. Ilya snorted a little.

“No, it is not. Just pretend you are a part of the forest,” Ilya said, settling himself in the leaves at the base of one of the trees. He closed his eyes again and felt Marleau pretending. It was better than before.

Ilya sat and felt the birds come in to surround them. They brought songs of the mountainside and meadows. A fox slinked past and yowled its displeasure at a farmer. Marleau jumped at that one. Two trees in the furthest corner of the forest sent news of a fire in a village two days’ walk away.

After a while, Marley started to fidget and Ilya gave up. It had been enlightening enough.

“We will go back to the village now,” Ilya said, pulling his boots back on and standing. Marleau did the same, stretching as he stood from the rock.

“Quite peaceful, actually,” Marleau began. “Better than war, even if it was mega boring.” Marleau grinned at Ilya and they left.

A week after Wiebe, King David and most of the King’s Men left for the battlefield, Caroline appeared at Ilya’s door. She had the same stern face she had always had, but was carrying a large leather case, which was new.

Ilya stood and followed her as she walked away. Marleau stood and followed her. She walked through the yard and towards the main gatehouse.

“Where are we going?” Marleau said to Ilya once he’d caught up.

“I do not know,” Ilya said with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“So we’re just following her?” Marleau asked. He had a hand on Ilya’s shoulder now.

“She needs me, so I will go with her,” Ilya said, with no further explanation. That was enough for the moment.

When they emerged into the village beyond, Ilya saw which house they were headed for and understood.

“You will stay outside,” Ilya said to Marleau, who looked at him quizzically. “Unless you want to watch childbirth with a very unhappy mother and a very unhappy Caroline.”

“I’ll stand outside, thanks. Not worried about a bit of blood, but she looks like she could murder me with her bare hands,” Marleau replied. Ilya laughed a little and then considered it.

“She could, I think,” he said finally and Marleau gawked at him. “ I probably could too, but I haven’t ever tried. Want to be a test subject?” Ilya asked, a smirk landing gently on his face.

“Yes, go on then. I was getting bored of life,” Marleau said, barking out a laugh as he did.

When they arrived at the cottage where Melinda Coates lived, Caroline knocked politely at the door and Marleau stood guard beside it. The door was flung open and a harried woman ushered them inside. She looked carefully at Ilya, considering him, before shutting the door.

“They are in there,” the woman said, pointing towards a room from which muffled groans tumbled. Caroline moved forward and knocked on the open door.

“Hello. We have come to help. Shall we help with the pain first?” Caroline asked, opening her bag and handing Ilya a brick of iron. It was substantially larger than the chunk Ilya kept in his pocket.

Melinda was kneeling on her hands and knees on the floor and Ilya sat down next to her.

“To help with the pain, I need to touch you. Where would you like that to be?” Ilya asked quietly and watched as Melinda gritted her teeth. She wiggled two of her fingers at the same time and Ilya put his hand over hers.

It was a big pain, bigger than he expected. Wiebe had taken him to assist with childbirth, but it had never been like this before. Ilya grasped the iron and let the pain flow through to it.

Melinda’s jaw unclenched a little. Her shaking ceased briefly. Her pain bloomed over and over again.

“Caroline?” he asked and she nodded to him. He looked up at the nearest woman. “Please fetch as many towels as you have. And boiling water. Soak the towels in the water and bring all of it here.” The woman hesitated. “Now.” Ilya said, his tone much firmer.

Another round of pain blossomed and Ilya took it. The iron was glowing red hot and beginning to smoulder.

“Melinda, your baby is facing the wrong way. You cannot push until we have fixed that. You’re going to squeeze Ilya’s hand every time you feel the push. But nothing else,” Caroline said and Melinda nodded her head. Her neck was floppy, barely holding it up anymore.

Ilya began whispering under his breath, letting the energy of the earth flow into the room. It brought a calming breeze and Melinda’s shoulders dropped just a little.

The towels started to arrive and both Caroline and Ilya cleaned their hands with one that steamed. The skin on Ilya’s hands was already red, but it began to hurt then.

“We’re going to try to help now,” Caroline said, placing her hand beneath Melinda’s skirt. “Just squeeze when you feel the need to push.”

Ilya and Caroline looked at each other and waited. Ilya nodded, Caroline adjusted. They waited. Ilya nodded, Caroline adjusted. They waited.

As a new pain began to blossom in Melinda’s pelvis, Ilya nodded again, but felt the twang of the pain move. It was moving further down.

“Melinda, you are very close. You can push now,” Caroline said, and on the next wave, Melinda pushed. Once more and then, a third time.

A baby cried.

Ilya held Melinda’s hand and took the rest of the pain.

—

Ilya sat with Shane at his little kitchen table. Shane had brought a small map and was using Ilya’s food to demonstrate the different battle plans. Ilya was quiet.

“-should attack. But if we came from the East, it would be defensive.” Shane looked up at Ilya. He frowned. He looked back at the map.

“You don’t agree?” he asked, moving the spoon, and the milk jug, and the onion, and the salt shaker. He gestured to the table for Ilya to demonstrate his plan.

“The plan is good. Your father will be successful,” Ilya said, looking at Shane with eyes that could have stopped a thousand ships.

“You don’t have to flatter me,” Shane said, rolling up his map again.

“I can flatt- No, I am not,” Ilya said, catching himself and wincing very slightly at the recovery. Shane looked at him again.

“I can go. It is getting late,” Shane said, going to stand. Ilya’s arm shot out and landed on his forearm. 

“No, I-“ he finished and glanced out the doorway at Pike and Marleau, who were sat on stools outside. Shane glanced that way as well.

“I see,” Shane said. He did stand then and gathered his map from the table. “Tomorrow, we will meet in my study.” 

Ilya stood and looked at Shane. He reached out a hand to touch Shane’s shoulder. Shane let him, but moved quickly out the door and towards the castle. Pike stood and followed, jogging to catch up with him.

Marleau stuck his head in the door and looked at Ilya.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Marleau said, giving Ilya a thumbs up. Ilya nodded and then was left to stand in his little house alone.

Ilya knocked on the door of Shane’s study. It was one of a suite of rooms, so he wasn’t surprised to hear footsteps gradually get louder over the course of almost a minute. The door opened and Shane stood there in his full military uniform. He was sharp, in his face as well as dress.

Ilya looked him up and down, watching as the blush crept up the sides of Shane’s high collar. His face was stern and serious, unlike something Ilya had seen on him before.

Shane stood aside and Ilya moved past him into the room, Sveta following at his heels. 

The door clicked behind him, leaving Marleau and Pike in the hallway outside. 

The room was warm, even without the fire burning here. There was an elegant oak desk, a large bookshelf and a small table filling the room.

Ilya walked over to the desk where Shane had spread the maps out and Ilya looked at the little figurines that he had first seen in David's study. He waited for Shane to join him.

Instead, Shane walked across the room and back through one of the other doors. Ilya waited.

Shane’s face appeared back at the doorway, no longer stern, smiling brightly at Ilya. He nodded for Ilya to follow him.

Ilya looked at Sveta, who had already curled up in front of the fire, and walked towards Shane.

“Better, right?” Shane said, shutting that door once Ilya had passed through it. They were in a small lounge, with a couch and a few armchairs. Shane walked to sit at one end of the couch.

Ilya hummed his approval and sat at the other end of the couch.

“You have never brought me here before,” Ilya said, looking carefully at Shane. Shane had his hands in his lap and was fiddling with his fingernails.

“I haven’t needed to before,” Shane replied, not looking up.

Ilya hummed and looked around the small room. A reading room, he supposed. Books lined the walls and a few sat on the table beside Shane. 

“Last night was strange. You were strange,” Shane said, looking into the fire now. Ilya watched him without speaking. Shane took a deep breath. “And I was thinking about what had changed. Because I don’t think we have changed. But then, there is the war and Wiebe is gone and I wondered if you were stressed. And if Marleau and Pike were bothering you. Whether you didn’t want to be with me near them. Or at all in public, maybe. It’s a lot of pressure to be with a prince. It’s a lot of pressure to be a prince. I don’t know what you want, really. We haven’t really talked about what you think about this all. And then there’s the whole advisor stuff. Because if you don’t want to do anything because of that, I get it, I promise, I understand. But I don’t think it’s a choice thing. My mum is my dad’s best advisor. They trust each other. And I trust you. So, yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.” Shane trailed off at the end, having spoken exclusively to the flames of the fire. Ilya watched him silently.

Shane looked away from the fire.

He looked at Ilya’s hands. Ilya waited.

He looked at Ilya’s chin. Ilya waited.

He looked at Ilya’s eyes. Ilya’s lips quirked up into a small smile.

“We are not courting yet, Shane. I do not wish for rumours to spread,” Ilya said, looking into Shane’s deep brown eyes. They were lined with water.

“We are not?” Shane said, his eyes darting down. Ilya reached across and tilted his chin up.

“I did not know if that is what you wanted. Your parents must want to seek a beneficial marriage,” Ilya said, his eyes soft, his voice calm. Shane shook his head.

“No, I- Wiebe told them that I would marry for love,” Shane said, his eyes glassy in the firelight.

“The future is certain,” Ilya said, releasing Shane’s chin and sitting back on the couch. He stretched out his long limbs, which had been filling out with muscle in the past few months. He did not look at the fire.

Shane watched him with dark eyes and let his mouth hang open just a touch. Ilya smirked at him and Shane looked back to the fire.

“Will you- then?” Shane asked, his voice quiet. His hands were still in lap.

“Will I-?” Ilya said, his voice coaxing and careful. He leaned forward a little, crowding into Shane’s space.

“You know, with the courting,” Shane tried again. Ilya tutted.

“Who should I court, sweet prince?” Ilya said, his voice as low as he could make it. Shane’s lips twitched up into a smile and he looked up at Ilya through his eyelashes.

“Me,” Shane said, his voice sunken to a whisper. Ilya shifted closer, touching his knees to Shane’s thigh.

“Do you want that?” Ilya asked, cupping Shane’s jaw carefully, sweetly.

“Yes.”

“Then I will.”

—

A battlefield. Soldiers carrying , fighting and slain. Bodies everywhere. Chaos. Wiebe in a suit of armour, covered by a white tunic. David in a suit of armour, covered by a navy tunic. A man in chainmail and a navy tunic running towards them, sword outstretched. He hit David-

Ilya took a shuddering breath. Sveta rose to him, her long legs making short work of the room. She petted his head and hair. She held his hand.

Ilya breathed deeply, sucking in one breath after another. 

Marleau pushed through the door, sword raised. He looked at Ilya and then, with wider eyes, at Sveta. 

Sveta shrank back into the corner and hissed. 

Ilya stood, still shaking, and put himself between them. He picked up the tunic from the hook and tossed it back towards Sveta.

“Are you-? Did she hurt you?” Marleau said, looking between Ilya and Sveta, uncertain. Ilya shook his head and Marleau lowered his sword.

“I am his,” Sveta said, the hiss still hanging in her throat. She came to Ilya’s side and ushered him into a chair.

“Right, because I thought he was with-“ Marleau said, before cutting himself off.

“Marleau, sit down,” Ilya rasped out, sinking backwards into his chair and closing his eyes. Marleau sat on the stool by the fire. “Sveta, can you show him?”

He heard the tunic drop to the ground and Marleau’s little intake of breath. Then, he felt Sveta’s paws as she pounced onto his lap.

“Ok?” Ilya said, placing his hand on Sveta’s back.

“I think I’m more confused, actually. Naked woman and injured man makes more sense than naked woman, who is also a cat, and probably not injured man, who has a cat that is also a woman,” Marleau said. Ilya looked at him and found Marleau’s helmet had been removed. He was rubbing his face.

“She is not a woman. She is a cat who can look like a human. It is different,” Ilya said, stroking Sveta’s back carefully.

“And you and her aren’t-?” Marleau asked, his eyes shifting between the two of them. 

“She’s a cat, Marleau. Would you have sex with a cat?” Ilya said, his face contorting in disgust. Sveta raised her head a little and hissed again at Marleau, her tail flicking angrily back and forth.

“I mean, if the cat looked like that-“ Marleau said, with a grin on his face.

“Do not finish that thought. You are a disgusting man,” Ilya said, rolling his eyes at the soldier. Marleau laughed and put his helmet back on.

“Give a man a warning next time,” he said, standing. He walked over and patted Ilya on the shoulder.

“You were the one who burst in here,” Ilya said, glaring up at him. Marleau laughed again and walked back out to his post.

Ilya took another deep breath.

The Great Hall was filled with people at supper time. As the days became shorter, it was warmed by the fires and filled with food for all. 

Ilya stepped in, with a basket in his hand. He scanned the room, but did not see who he was looking for.

Instead, he walked down to his usual seat, where Dottie and the girls were sat.

He greeted them, placed the basket down and went to collect a plate of food for himself. As he was taking some bread, Shane slid into the line next to him. 

“Hello,” he said, not looking directly at Shane yet. Shane placed a small wooden box on the table in front of Ilya.

“This is for you,” Shane said, pointing to the box. Ilya looked down at it and then up at him.

“What is it?” Ilya said, watching Shane roll his eyes.

“It is a gift for you,” Shane said with a small smile. Ilya picked it up and moved away from the table with a half-filled plate. He put the plate down on the longtable nearest and held the box in his hands.

“I see,” he said, looking but not opening.

“You don’t have to look at it now. I just wanted to give it to you,” Shane said, rocking from foot to foot as they stood together. Ilya nodded and looked back down at the box.

“I brought something for you,” Ilya said, eyes focused on nothing except the box. 

“Oh? Thank you,” Shane said, looking at the box as well now. His face had changed from one of smug satisfaction to one of deep concern. “You really don’t have to-“ he started, reaching for the box. Ilya pulled it backwards towards himself.

“This is mine now. You cannot take it back,” Ilya said, very quietly. Almost inaudible in the loud hall.

“I would never want to take it back. Do- do you-? Should we go outside?” Shane asked carefully, ducking his head to get Ilya to meet his eyes. Ilya didn’t, but he nodded.

Shane turned on his heel and left the hall, with Ilya walking behind him. Ilya’s eyes left the box, but he held it in two hands still, cradling something special.

Once they had made their way out into the corridor, Shane stopped and looked at Ilya.

“I did not expect gifts from you,” Ilya said, looking back at him now. 

“Why?” Shane said, a frown settling over his face. “I am the prince. I must also court you.”

“I did not realise,” Ilya said. Shane reached over to touch his hand, stroking his thumb over the back of it gently.

“Well, you know now,” Shane said. Ilya looked down at their hands and then raised the box again. He looked down at it, pressing open the catch and flipping open the lid.

Inside, nestled on a small, green pillow, was Shane’s signet ring. Ilya raised it from the box and held it in his hand.

“My mum said I should give this to you first. To show my intentions. That you will join our family,” Shane said, ducking his head down as he watched Ilya turn the ring over in his hand. “I can have the goldsmith adjust it to fit your finger. If you choose to wear it.”

Ilya slid the ring onto his smallest finger and smiled warmly when it only reached the second knuckle.

“I think we will need to do this, yes,” Ilya said, looking at Shane again and turning his hand to show the ring.

Shane laughed brightly. His breath was heavy, but Ilya understood. His chest felt the same.

“Come, I have a gift for you as well. Although not as beautiful as this,” Ilya said, slipping the ring from his finger and returning it safely to the box. He took Shane’s hand again and squeezed it tightly.

They walked down into the hall again. Ilya recovered his plate and finished filling it whilst Shane sat with Dottie and her daughters.

When Ilya returned, they were deep into conversation. Ilya began to eat.

Then Patience, the youngest Wiebe daughter, stole a sausage from her oldest sister’s plate. Whilst Dottie turned to solve the emergent problem, Ilya nudged the basket over towards Shane. Shane looked at Ilya and then inside the basket.

“My gift,” Ilya said, smiling as Shane picked a blackberry from the basket and ate it. 

“Thank you,” Shane said, taking another blackberry. He grinned at Ilya.

A battlefield. Soldiers carrying weapons, fighting and slain. Bodies everywhere. Chaos that had paused for just a moment. 

Wiebe in a suit of armour, covered by a white tunic. 

David in a suit of armour, covered by a navy tunic, with red and white tassels around his waist. A man in chainmail and a navy tunic running towards them, sword outstretched. The tassels on his uniform flew in the wind. 

He hit David-

Ilya opened his eyes. He did not take in a shuddering breath. He did not breathe at all. 

He looked down at the dwindling fire in his blessings can and looked across at Harris.

He breathed.

Ilya took the quill from Harris’ hand and the nearest piece of parchment that he could.

He wrote a short note and thrust it back into Harris’ hands. Harris looked at him, confused.

“You need to go to the battlefield, right now. Troy, get Gerty. Harris is leaving,” Ilya said, raising his voice and standing to gather Harris’ things.

“I can’t just go, Ilya. Gen won’t just allow me to leave,” Harris said, standing as well and packing his things into his box.

“I am telling you. You must go now. I will speak with Gen,” Ilya said.

He waited for Harris to run to his bunk and return with what he needed. Ilya paced back and forth in the yard, trying to remember what he’d seen. Troy had saddled Gerty and she was ready in the yard when Harris returned.

“Give it to the first fully dressed soldier you see when you arrive. Not an officer. A soldier,” Ilya said as Harris sat astride her. He nodded, bent forward and pulled on Gerty’s reins. 

Ilya watched them go.

Ilya knelt on the ground, hidden behind the chairs in the kitchen. His father was shouting and his mother was shouting and his brother was hiding with him.

Irina pushed Grigori away as he tried to hit out at her. She turned, moving away from him and towards the boys.

He grabbed a handful of her hand, hauling her back towards him. Grigori snarled in her ear: “you will do what I say, Irina.” He wrapped his hand around her throat, her necklace tangled in his fingers. He squeezed.

Ilya ran out from his hiding place then. He reached his father and began beating him with closed fists. He screamed at Grigori.

Grigori pushed Irina away, her necklace catching on his hand. It broke away and clattered to the fall, just as she did.

Then he turned on Ilya, raising his hand and-

Caroline came to fetch him just as he was preparing for bed. He looked at her with an untucked shirt and tired eyes. He tucked in his shirt, grabbed his robe and followed her towards the castle steps.

They went down, into the cellars. 

“A fight,” Caroline said, as the gaoler unlocked the first door for them to enter. She gave him the second bag she was holding and gestured to one of the cells. She walked off with the gaoler to another.

Ilya approached the cell, waiting for the gaoler to return and unlock it.

The man’s head was hung in front of him, covered by a shock of dirty, blond hair. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised. 

“Are you in pain?” Ilya said, crouching down next to the man. He could relieve the pain easily. The bars were iron.

“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” the man said with a thin raspy voice. Ilya stopped his hand from reaching out.

“I am here to help you. You can refuse the help,” Ilya said quietly. The man lifted his head. His face was a mess, the skin loose in places it shouldn’t be. One eye was badly bruised and swollen shut. But Ilya could still see that it was Dallas.

“I can help with the pain,” he tried again. Dallas stayed still. He laughed a little under his breath.

“Fine,” Dallas said. Ilya placed one hand on Dallas’ leg and another on the iron bar. 

There was a lot of pain. It was spread out across his body, but it also reached deeper inside.

Ilya had not seen this type of pain before. All the same, he began to take it.

Once the first bar glowed red, Ilya moved his hand to a second.

He was still going when Caroline returned. She turned to the gaoler.

“I will bandage his wounds. Let me in,” she said, and stepped efficiently into the space. She knelt by Dallas’ feet and turned his head towards her. “Ilya will keep helping with the pain whilst I do this.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dallas asked eventually, once his eye was covered in a thick salve and Caroline was wrapping his knuckles.

Caroline looked at Ilya.

“This is my job. I do not choose who to care for,” Ilya said, looking at his face. He looked back down to the third glowing bar.

“You said magic could be dangerous,” Dallas said, looking at the bars of his cell with very little expression on his face.

“It can be,” Ilya said.

“It is. If you do not use it correctly,” Caroline added. “Ilya, the physical pain is dealt with.”

Ilya nodded, taking his hand from Dallas’ leg. He looked back up at him.

“You ruined my life,” Dallas said, his voice cold.

“No,” Ilya said, standing and waiting for Caroline to come out. “We cannot change the past, Dallas. We can only try to be better for tomorrow.” Caroline walked from the cell and they headed back the way they’d come.

The fire raged in the Great Hall when Ilya sat in the comfortable chair in front of it. Sveta sat herself in his lap and waited. So did Ilya.

He saw flashes at first, faces in the flames. 

Troy and Harris laughing. 

Shane wearing flowers in his hair. 

A baby crying. 

And then-

A battlefield. Soldiers carrying weapons, fighting and slain. Bodies everywhere. Chaos that had paused for just a moment. 

Wiebe in a suit of armour, covered by a white tunic. 

David in a suit of armour, covered by a navy tunic, with red and white tassels around his waist. A man in chainmail and a navy tunic running towards them, sword outstretched. The tassels on his uniform flew in the wind. His face was dark and determined. He ran in huge strides across the battlefield. He jumped over bodies, leapt around abandoned carts. His speed increased and increased.

He hit David.

A rain of arrows fell.

Ilya breathed deeply. He opened his eyes to find Shane staring patiently at him. He smiled a little.

Shane passed him a biscuit and a cup of sweet, milky tea from the table next to him. Ilya took it gratefully. 

Shane stood, leaning forward to stroke the damp hair from Ilya’s head.

“You shouldn’t be doing this alone,” Shane said, running his fingers into Ilya’s hair.

“I am not alone, sweet prince” Ilya said, stroking Sveta’s back with his free hand and tilting his head into Shane’s touch.

“Tell me next time, please,” Shane said instead, moving back to pull his own seat next to Ilya’s.

Ilya nodded and drank his tea.

Harris returned the next day. He was riding ahead of a small party of soldiers. Ilya heard the trumpet calls from his little house. 

He stepped outside to see King David, alive and well, although bruised. His arm was in a sling. 

Wiebe was not riding on a horse. Ilya looked for him. He could not see his master anywhere. 

David caught Ilya’s eye and pointed to the cart behind. Injured or dead.

Ilya ran to the back of the cart, relieved to see Wiebe breathing deeply. He was sharing the cart with a soldier who lay on his side. He was wrapped in bandages, but was awake. Ilya leant across to grasp his ankle and slid his other hand into his pocket with his little iron ball.

He pulled the pain from the soldier, who slumped back, only half-conscious.

When he looked up, Caroline was next to him with her own iron ball, touching Wiebe. Instead of relaxing, Wiebe stirred, looking up at both of them.

“I knew you’d figure it out,” he said to Ilya, before whispering his thanks and closing his eyes again.

Caroline squeezed Ilya’s bicep and handed him another chunk of iron. 

—

Zane Boodram was a big character, even in his recovery bed. He had made friends easily and Ilya was rarely the only person in the room with him. 

Cassie, one of the maids, was sat with him one evening whilst Ilya cared for his wounds.

“Harris told me it was you,” Zane said, looking up at Ilya with an awed expression.

“Yes,” Ilya said, spreading a salve over one of the deeper puncture marks.

“That was wild, man. How did you even know that I’d do it? Like, who gets a note like that and goes, yeah, I’m gonna go tackle the king for no reason,” Zane said, his laugh threading its way into his words.

“You did, you great mooncalf,” Cassie said, slapping his arm playfully. He grinned at her and she grinned back. Then he turned back to Ilya.

“Seriously, man, how did you know?” Zane said, his expression drawn to a quizzical point.

“The future is certain,” Ilya said as he finished bandaging the wound.

“That’s such bullshit. I bet you get away with that all the time, you mysterious little fuck,” Zane said, pointing a finger from his good hand at Ilya. Ilya couldn’t help but grin at him.

“Yes. Most people do not dig further,” Ilya admitted, sitting in the chair by his side.

“That’s fucking funny, man. I bet you get a giggle out of it. Being all brooding and shit,” Zane said and Ilya laughed from deep in his stomach.

Ilya walked into JJ’s workshop and was hit with a wave of heat. He stepped back. JJ laughed.

“Sorry about that. You forget that other people aren’t used to it after a while,” JJ said and Ilya nodded at him. JJ stripped off his gloves and walked over to the huge set of shelves on one wall. “Here it is,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out Ilya’s resized ring. JJ handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Ilya said, putting it onto his finger for the first time. It fit closely and he held it up to the light to inspect.

“Does it need adjustments?” JJ said, taking his hand and looking it over. Ilya shook his head and took his hand back. JJ gave him a tight smile and turned to continue his work.

“I was- I have something that I’ve never been able to wear. I’d like to fix it,” Ilya said, putting his hand into his pocket and retrieving the parts of a necklace that he had treasured his entire life.

JJ turned back and held out his hand. Ilya placed the necklace into it. Ilya took a deep breath. He had never let another person touch it.

“Oh, yeah,” JJ said, looking at the necklace carefully. “Give me a minute.” He turned back to the shelves and took out a small box of tiny rings. Then JJ pulled a few tools over to him, hunched over and fiddled with the necklace for a moment. He laid it out, tugging at the fix a little and admired it. “Interesting cross. This was well made. Who did it?” 

“I do not know. It was my mother’s,” Ilya said, holding his hands behind his back to hide the fidgeting.

“Well, it’s beautiful. Worth the repair,” JJ said, handing it back to him. Ilya nodded and turned to leave, clutching the necklace in his hand.

Wiebe’s workshop was usually quiet. Two men and a cat at the most. But today, they were joined by another man. 

David turned to the door when Ilya entered with his basket of mushrooms, berries and tree bark from that morning’s foraging.

“Good morning, son,” David said, coming forward to shake Ilya’s hand. Ilya gripped it carefully, considering his lingering injuries.

“Good morning,” Ilya replied, placing his basket onto Wiebe’s desk for him to peruse.

“I believe we have something to discuss,” David said, perching on one of the high stools next to the workbench. He gestured for Ilya to join him. Ilya looked across to Wiebe, who gave him a knowing grin.

“Yes?” Ilya said.

“You have been courting my son,” David said, a stern expression on his face. Ilya’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected this conversation so soon.

“Yes,” Ilya said. Wiebe snorted.

“Did you not think it appropriate to ask my permission?” David enquired, leaning on the workbench carefully. His arm was still in a sling.

“I asked Shane’s permission,” Ilya said, in lieu of anything that would actually answer David’s question.

“And that mattered more than mine?” David said, raising an interested eyebrow.

“Yes,” Ilya said. Wiebe snorted again. Ilya’s hand went to his chest, picking the gold cross from it to fiddle gently, nervously.

“Enough out of you,” David said, turning and pointing at Wiebe. Wiebe simply rolled his eyes and continued to work through the basket. David redirected his attention to Ilya. “And you wish to continue to be Brandon’s apprentice?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Oh,” Ilya said, his breath coming out all at once. 

“You’re going to be a good man, Ilya. I am pleased that you are here with us. Frankly, we’ve been waiting for a year or two for the two of you to figure it out.” David laughed a little at this and Wiebe joined him. Ilya looked between the two of them.

“You knew about the courting?” Ilya asked of Wiebe.

“I’ve known for a very long time that it would be you. I just didn’t know who you were for a while. But once I’d found you- The future is certain,” Wiebe said with a wink and Ilya understood. He had seen it in the flames.

Ilya nodded.

“Keep them closed,” Ilya said, coming back from his bedroom. Shane squeezed his eyes closed even more. Ilya laughed a little and leant across to kiss the tip of his nose.

Shane’s laugh filled the room.

Ilya placed the wreath on Shane’s head.

“You can open them now,” Ilya said, stepping back and admiring his handiwork. He smiled at Shane, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Can I look at it?” Shane asked, holding his hands up to the wreath, asking before touching. Ilya nodded and smiled.

Shane took it off and inspected it carefully. It was filled with evergreen twigs, winter flowers and mistletoe. He touched it reverently, stroking each element and whispering to it.

“I saw it. In the fire. But it was a Summer crown, I think. I hoped you would like this as well,” Ilya said, touching the wreath as well. He looked down at it, pleased with his work.

“Did you make it?” Shane asked, his voice quiet in the little house.

“I did,” Ilya said. “I wanted to make you something. Something you could appreciate.”

Shane placed the wreath very carefully on the table and stepped close to Ilya. He put his hands on Ilya’s chest and leant forward.

Their lips met in a quiet, careful kiss. Ilya’s hands came to Shane’s waist and held him tightly there. Their mouths moved gently against each other, opening slightly with each successive kiss. Shane slid his hands up and into Ilya’s hair.

He pulled back a little, whispering “thank you” against Ilya’s lips. Ilya pressed their foreheads together and breathed in Shane’s air.

“I will make you another, for our marriage day. You looked beautiful in it,” Ilya whispered to him, pulling him closer at the hips, so they were flush. His arms wrapped around Shane’s middle, cocooning him in warmth.

They came together again, deepening the kiss. 

There was little ceremony to Ilya’s masterpiece. He hadn’t even realised it had been happening until it was over.

Ilya walked through the yard from his little house to the castle entrance. He was stopped initially by Melinda, carrying her now toddler. Ilya stood and spoke with her, taking the pain of the toddler’s teeth quietly, soothing the baby as he did. She thanked him and moved on.

Then a boy had run up to him, a nasty cut on his arm from a nail in the cart he had been playing in. Ilya placed his hands calmly on the boy, letting the breeze of calm wash over him. Then they walked hand-in-hand back to Ilya’s house, where the boy sat politely on a stool outside the front door and waited for Ilya to fetch his bag. 

Ilya pressed a salve onto the cut and bandaged his arm, before telling the boy in no uncertain terms that he needed to be more careful. The boy thanked Ilya and ran off to continue playing.

Next, Sophie appeared. Her grandmother was elderly, nearing death, and she wanted Ilya to come with blessings. He stood, bringing his bag and walked with her to the village.

On the way, Carter asked if he had any of the salve for a barmaid who’d put her hand in boiling water. Ilya gave him a little pot from his bag as well as a bandage and promised to come and see her when he returned. Carter shook his hand and walked back inside the public house.

Ilya stopped to speak to another woman who had been struggling with sickness during her pregnancy. He pulled some ginger root from his bag and gave her instructions for how to make a tea from it to soothe her stomach.

When they reached Sophie’s grandmother’s house, Ilya sat by her bed and held the woman’s hand. He talked when she was lucid, and sat quietly, taking the pain, when she was not. He asked after her eating, her toileting, her bed sores. Sophie helped him to apply a cream to the worst ones and he left it with her to use again. Sophie hugged him when he left, tighter than he had expected. He held her hand and squeezed it gently.

Walking back to the castle, he stopped into the public house and rewrapped the bandage that had been hastily applied to the barmaid’s hand. She sat patiently as he took the pain and promised that she would come to him if it hurt or bleed or turned a strange colour. She laughed at the last one, but Ilya insisted that it might.

Inside the castle walls, Ilya soothed a horse by stroking its flank; asked after one of the washerwomen who had fallen recently; herded chickens back into their pen; agreed to visit with Dottie and Wiebe for supper tomorrow; spoke to Wyatt about the new blacksmith; and bent to pick up a dropped pipe for a man with a cane.

By the time he made it inside the castle, the line of people with requests for the king was moving quickly. He moved swiftly onto the dais, standing in his usual place and putting his half-empty bag on the ground behind Wiebe’s chair.

The first woman was asking for help with her baby, but Ilya knew she did not have children. He whispered to Shane, who whispered to his father.

A few requests later, a man came in with an explanation of a fire that had burnt one of his barns. The fire had killed several of his cows as well, so Ilya told Shane, who told his father.

Another man came later with a complaint about his wife and a request for a divorce. His wife had come to Ilya one afternoon several weeks ago with an eye that was swollen shut and some nasty bruising beneath her skirts. Ilya told David that himself.

When the line had dwindled to nothing, Shane asked if they could talk about an alliance with Landry. Ilya spoke with him, with Yuna and Wiebe chipping in occasionally. They discussed the possibilities of financial restrictions from the Landry royal family, but also the benefit of an island nation as an ally. There was no conclusion, just an exchange of ideas.

By the time they had finished, Ilya was exhausted. He slumped back against the arm of Wiebe’s chair and took a deep breath.

“Long day?” Wiebe said, but Ilya did not notice the glimmer in his eye. Instead, he saw Troy approach the dais. He bowed to the royal family, but turned to Ilya to ask for his help with one of the horses who had caught itself on a nail sticking out of another cart. Ilya grumbled about carts and nails and went with Troy to help it.

Later, Wiebe found Ilya in his little house.

“You’ve been busy today,” Wiebe said, sitting in the other chair at Ilya’s table. Ilya nodded and continued to repack his bag. “Lots of people needing your attention?”

Ilya looked up at Wiebe then. He frowned when he saw the smile on his face.

“What did you do?” Ilya asked, narrowing his eyes to look at Wiebe.

“I am very proud of you. I knew you would be successful when I met you in that hall when you were 13. The gift flowed so clearly through your body. Your father thought I was checking you for lice, I think. 

“But you’ve surpassed my expectations. It is early for your apprenticeship to end, but it is time.”

Ilya looked at Wiebe and then down at the floor. He hadn’t expected it today, or soon even. He had turned 18 only a few weeks ago. He should have years left to train.

“I am grateful for everything that you have done for me. I will never forget the lessons I have learnt from you,” Ilya said, his voice quiet and a little raspy at the edges. He set his bag down on the floor and sat back in his chair. “What happens now?” he asked, not looking at Wiebe.

“Mostly, we pay you. And you’ll start to take over the Wicce, whilst I continue to work with David. Call it a retirement of sorts,” Wiebe said, resting a hand on Ilya’s forearm. Ilya looked at him, his frown knitting his eyebrows together.

“I will not leave?” Ilya asked, surprise pulling at his eyes, his lips, his hands. Wiebe shook his head.

“No, I think not. We would be incompetent if we let you go, Ilya. You are the finest witch I’ve worked with. The people of this castle, this village, the country, deserve you. And you deserve a place to call home,” Wiebe said, patting his arm. Ilya felt his eyes begin to water, but he held them steady.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Wiebe said, standing and giving Ilya a smile that spread from his face into Ilya’s heart.

When Wiebe had left, Ilya sat in the chair for a long time and did not move. 

One year later, Ilya stood between the forest and the castle and made a decision.

Shane often commented on the structure at the edge of the forest that was being slowly assembled. He wondered who had started it, what it was for, who was building it. He’d asked around and no-one really knew.

But he saw the glint in Ilya’s eye and decided to leave it alone.

He joined Ilya on occasion in the forest, picking berries and listening to the bird song.

This morning, he had woken up with Ilya in his little house and had come along in the cold frost of the morning. He carried Ilya’s basket for him, even empty, as they passed through the castle walls and made their way towards the forest.

As they neared it, Shane saw the structure had become something.

“A cottage,” Shane said to Ilya, gesturing with the basket to the house in front of them. Ilya squeezed his hand and they carried on walking.

As they came upon the edge of the forest, Ilya diverted from the path, pulling Shane along with him towards the newer path leading to the cottage.

Shane looked at Ilya then and saw the mix of emotions on his face - pride, fear, joy. He squeezed Ilya’s hand and had it returned.

They reached the building. They stood in front of the cottage door and looked at each other.

Then Ilya reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. He handed it to Shane. Shane looked at the key, and then at Ilya and then at the door.

He handed the key back to Ilya.

“Can you-? I want you to-“ Shane tried to say, but the words got caught in his throat. 

Ilya smiled gently at him, put the key in the lock and twisted. He pushed the door open and ushered Shane inside. 

The first room was wide, with a large fireplace on the far wall and a stove beside it. There was a heavy oak table with four seats and a couch in front of the fire. Shane moved through it, touching the walls and furniture as he did.

He went to one of the doors on the right and opened it. A small bedroom with two small beds. He opened the other, a large bed made for two awaited him.

Shane turned back to Ilya, who was standing in the doorway still. 

“It’s beautiful,” Shane said, looking at Ilya from across the room.

“I thought it would be right for my final courting gift,” Ilya said, shutting the door behind him and stalking over to Shane. He leant against this doorway instead.

“Final?” Shane said, pushing himself into Ilya, looking up at him with bright eyes.

“There may be trinkets, but we will be married soon and I do not have any way of topping a house I built for you,” Ilya said, whisperingly close to Shane’s lips.

“You built it?” Shane said, pulling back a little to look at Ilya’s face. He nodded.

“I had some help. Troy and some others taught me how to do certain parts of it. And with the roof. But I built it for you. And whoever comes along,” Ilya said, nodding back to the other bedroom. 

Shane grinned and flashed their mouths together. A meeting of teeth and lips and love.

Ilya placed his hands on Shane’s hips and steered them backwards into the bedroom.

“We need to christen the bed, I think,” Ilya said, between kisses. 

“Yes,” Shane breathed out into him.

In the open meadow beside the castle, as the sun rose in the morning, Shane and Ilya stood facing Wiebe with their hands joined with strips of colourful fabric tied in knots. Sveta sat between them, her head resting on Ilya’s boot and her tail flicking at Shane’s ankle. 

They stood in the middle of a great circle of friends. Dottie, Yuna, David and Frank all looked on from one side. Troy and Harris stood behind Ilya, hands clutching at each other. Caroline and Julie stood behind Wiebe, smiling brightly at one of their own.

The village had gathered around the edges of the circle, watching their prince marry their witch. 

There were tears. There were handkerchiefs. There were eyes wiped dry.

On Shane’s head sat a flower crown of roses, honeysuckle and lavender. 

Ilya looked at him - this proud, kind, thoughtful man who had agreed to marry him. 

There would be another ceremony later. Just as there would be a set of rooms in the castle to live in many years from now. It would come with dignitaries and official proclamations. It would come with people and headaches and documents to sign.

But for now, his heart was full.

He could feel it all the time.