mass, but when David had asked him, found him in the church and stared at him with anxious beautiful eyes and asked for a death mass in a pleading voice, he'd found himself saying "Yes, of course," right away. Anything to get the strange, quiet, disturbingly beautiful young man away from him. He'd heard the stories of the King's lost son--everyone had--but he'd never believed they were true. Not until that day. And now, standing, watching snow fall hard and fast, he prayed only that this moment would be over soon.
David got the pyre lit. As the priest watched he pressed a flame to the wood and blew gently on it. The flame sputtered and shifted, its color fading from red-yellow to white. The priest watched as the fire burned, consuming everything by ice, the body on the pyre swirling into a cloud too fine and too cold to be smoke.
"Dear God," the priest said, and it wasn't a prayer. He crossed himself and walked away. David didn't notice. He stood watching the fire, shaking not from cold but from grief. He stood watching the fire and snow fall from the sky like tears.
Across the courtyard David's brother and sister stood watching him. They were wrapped in furs, shielded from the falling snow by attendants standing, shivering and holding a canopy over their heads. They were supposed to be on their way to a party, but they'd stopped when they saw the brother they'd forgotten they had, when they saw the way the snow fell harder and faster with every shuddering breath he took. They watched the fire burn, saw its white flame, watched it consume by cold. They looked at each other for a moment and then the Princess lifted one hand up, held it towards the sky. Snow covered the dark rich fabric of her glove in a moment.
"The rumors--"
"Yes," the Prince said. "We'll have to do something. Let me send someone to get you another glove."
"You're too kind," the Princess said, and turned toward him, arm still outstretched. He peeled the ruined glove away from her skin, captured her wrist with his fingers. They left the glove lying on the ground when they went inside. It was covered with snow by the time the doors closed behind them.
***
"Do you love me?" the Princess asked. It wasn't really a question. She was lying naked on her bed, golden skin draped by soft dyed sheets, staring, smiling at the man standing, watching her.
"Of course I do," Joseph said. His voice was kind but strained, wrecked by want. It was written all over him. He wanted nothing more than to be hers forever.
"How much do you love me?"
"I'd do anything for you," he said, and knelt down, placed one hand on her thigh. His hand didn't shake at all. "Anything."
"Good," the Princess said, and spread her legs. "Come here."
"Do you love me?" the Prince asked later. It wasn't really a question. He was lying naked on his bed, golden skin draped by soft dyed sheets, staring, smiling at the man standing, watching him.
"Of course I do," Joseph said. His voice was kind but strained, wrecked by want. It was written all over him. He wanted nothing more than to be his forever.
"How much do you love me?"
"I'd do anything for you," he said, and knelt down, placed one hand on the Prince's thigh. His hand didn't shake at all. "Anything."
"Good," the Prince said, and spread his legs. "Come here."
Chapter Three
David drifted. He was alone now and the rooms he'd shared with his nurse, rooms that had seemed cozy when he was young and cramped when he was older became cavernous, full of space he knew he could never fill. He went through her things; folded her shawl for the last time, ironed her sheets and made the bed she'd never sleep in again. He folded her tobacco pouch and put it with her pipe, took her shoes and put them where she liked them, pointing out towards the door. There was nothing else left of her except a coin with a woman's smiling face stamped on it that he found tucked into the pocket of her favorite coat. He touched the coin, traced the woman's
David got the pyre lit. As the priest watched he pressed a flame to the wood and blew gently on it. The flame sputtered and shifted, its color fading from red-yellow to white. The priest watched as the fire burned, consuming everything by ice, the body on the pyre swirling into a cloud too fine and too cold to be smoke.
"Dear God," the priest said, and it wasn't a prayer. He crossed himself and walked away. David didn't notice. He stood watching the fire, shaking not from cold but from grief. He stood watching the fire and snow fall from the sky like tears.
Across the courtyard David's brother and sister stood watching him. They were wrapped in furs, shielded from the falling snow by attendants standing, shivering and holding a canopy over their heads. They were supposed to be on their way to a party, but they'd stopped when they saw the brother they'd forgotten they had, when they saw the way the snow fell harder and faster with every shuddering breath he took. They watched the fire burn, saw its white flame, watched it consume by cold. They looked at each other for a moment and then the Princess lifted one hand up, held it towards the sky. Snow covered the dark rich fabric of her glove in a moment.
"The rumors--"
"Yes," the Prince said. "We'll have to do something. Let me send someone to get you another glove."
"You're too kind," the Princess said, and turned toward him, arm still outstretched. He peeled the ruined glove away from her skin, captured her wrist with his fingers. They left the glove lying on the ground when they went inside. It was covered with snow by the time the doors closed behind them.
***
"Do you love me?" the Princess asked. It wasn't really a question. She was lying naked on her bed, golden skin draped by soft dyed sheets, staring, smiling at the man standing, watching her.
"Of course I do," Joseph said. His voice was kind but strained, wrecked by want. It was written all over him. He wanted nothing more than to be hers forever.
"How much do you love me?"
"I'd do anything for you," he said, and knelt down, placed one hand on her thigh. His hand didn't shake at all. "Anything."
"Good," the Princess said, and spread her legs. "Come here."
"Do you love me?" the Prince asked later. It wasn't really a question. He was lying naked on his bed, golden skin draped by soft dyed sheets, staring, smiling at the man standing, watching him.
"Of course I do," Joseph said. His voice was kind but strained, wrecked by want. It was written all over him. He wanted nothing more than to be his forever.
"How much do you love me?"
"I'd do anything for you," he said, and knelt down, placed one hand on the Prince's thigh. His hand didn't shake at all. "Anything."
"Good," the Prince said, and spread his legs. "Come here."
Chapter Three
David drifted. He was alone now and the rooms he'd shared with his nurse, rooms that had seemed cozy when he was young and cramped when he was older became cavernous, full of space he knew he could never fill. He went through her things; folded her shawl for the last time, ironed her sheets and made the bed she'd never sleep in again. He folded her tobacco pouch and put it with her pipe, took her shoes and put them where she liked them, pointing out towards the door. There was nothing else left of her except a coin with a woman's smiling face stamped on it that he found tucked into the pocket of her favorite coat. He touched the coin, traced the woman's
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