Death didn't come. Instead they were waiting for him, just the two of them surrounded by crystal bowls full of food and crystal glasses full of wine.
"I thought‑‑" he stammered out, surprised by seeing the two of them together, by not being greeted with an axe slicing through his neck.
"Shhh‑‑‑" the Prince and Princess said at the same time.
"You said you loved me," the Princess continued, and smiled a tender‑eyed smile. She ate a bite of meat, mouth opening into a perfect round O, a flash of her tongue before her lips closed.
"You said you'd do anything," the Prince said, and smiled a tender‑eyed smile. He drank a sip of wine, mouth opening into a perfect round O, a flash of his tongue before his lips closed.
"I do," he said. "I would. Anything, I swear."
The moment he said those words the Prince and Princess smiled at each other and he felt a chill crawl up his spine.
***
One afternoon the servant handed him a piece of paper instead of bringing him food. David felt the weight of the paper in his hand and stared at the soft cream color of it, the gilded edges that curved into silhouettes of his brother and sister. His stomach rumbled a little but he ignored it.
"They‑‑they sent this for me?" he asked and unfolded the paper. Great slashes of words raced across it, all of them a curious mix of sharp curves and delicate loops. It was as if two people had written the letter at the same time. David wished he could read it. He looked at the servant, then back down at the letter.
"I'll return for you after the evening mass, then?" the servant said, a hint of impatience in his voice. His eyes were as impossible to read as ever, still fogged a snowy white.
"Yes," David said. "I'll be ready. And then we'll go and‑‑?"
A frown crossed the servant's face. "You did read the note?"
"I‑‑"
"Just be ready," the servant said, bitterness in his voice that David knew wasn't directed at him but at something else, someone else. "Their Highnesses don't like to be kept waiting."
"I'm going to see them," David breathed and smiled.
"Yes," the servant said, and didn't smile back.
They were waiting for him, sitting on long sofas across from each other and smiling at one another over a scurrying maid's head. They looked over at him at the same time, rose from their sofas together and walked towards him. The Prince waved the maid away, smiling a little as she flinched and raced from the room. The Princess said, "Thank you, that will be all," to the servant who'd led David to them, smiled as he blinked his fogged eyes and turned away.
"I'm so glad to see you," David said when they were alone. "I've ‑‑"
"Yes, yes," the Prince said. "We're glad to see you too. But we asked you here for a reason."
"Yes," the Princess said. "You see‑‑"
"We've planned‑‑"
"a gift‑‑"
"of a trip‑‑"
"just for you‑‑"
"our dear brother."
"For me?" David said. "Really? No one's ever‑‑really and truly just for me?"
The Prince and Princess smiled at each other. "Yes, dear heart," the Princess said, her voice laced with laughter that David wanted to enjoy but couldn't. Something about it didn't seem to include him.
"Just for you," the Prince said, and his voice was a deeper counterpoint to the Princess's, laced with the same excluding mirth. "You'll leave in the morning."
"Where am I going?" David asked eagerly. "What will I see?"
"A new land," the Princess said at the same time the Prince said, "You'll see things most people don't see until they are very old."
"Thank you," David said, and hesitated for a moment, then reached out and hugged each of them like his nurse used to hug him. They were both warm and it felt nice to be close to someone, to know they cared for him. Their arms didn't close around him like his nurse's had but it didn't matter. He didn't think he'd ever been so happy.
"Farewell," they said at the same time as he left the room. He turned back to wave at them but they'd turned away, were looking out the window.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling.
"We did it," the Princess said late that night, lying curled on her side with a smile on her face.
"Yes, we did," the Prince said. He stretched and then curled his body down into an echo of hers, the two of them looking deep into each other's eyes. "And now‑‑"
"Dear Father," the Princess said with a sigh, her smile sharpening. "He can pass on to the next world. We'll‑‑"
"We'll tell him about our brother together. He'll cry‑‑"
"He'll howl."
They shared a smile.
"He thinks he's forgotten," the Prince said. "But we'll‑‑"
"We'll make him remember." The Princess sat up, pushed her hair back and stood, spun around in joy. "Now," she said. "Let's do it now."
"Not yet," the Prince said, and she stopped moving, a small frown crossing her face. He took her hand. "Soon," he said. "Remember the woodsman and his task?"
"You want to go now," she said, and linked her fingers tightly around his. "You don't want to wait."
"And you know we should," he said, and tugged her down next to him. She smiled at him.
***
His brother and sister came into his room in the morning, the familiar white‑eyed servant trailing behind them.
"We came to make sure you were ready to leave," his sister said briskly but not unkindly.
"Where are your bags?"
"I just need‑‑" David said, gesturing around the room. "I have to take my nurse's shawl with me."
"Anything we can do to help," his brother said, an amused drawl in his voice, and clapped his hands at the servant. "By all means, make sure to find and pack the‑‑your nurse's, was it?‑‑
shawl."
"What a sweet thing you are," his sister said. "It's almost a shame to see you leave." And then they both smiled at him, broad satisfied smiles that David wasn't sure he liked. But they'd arranged a trip for him and they'd noticed him and that was enough; that was amazing. David smiled back and they both blinked at him and then looked at each other.
"He might not have to go just yet," his brother said and placed one hand on his sister's shoulder, sliding his fingers under the robes she was wearing to trace over the gilt trim that framed her collarbone.
"That's what I was thinking," she said, a tone too rich and satisfied to be surprise filling her voice. She looked around the room, eyes darkening as she took in its small size, the lack of furniture, the pile of David's nurse's belongings still stacked neatly folded, as if she might be coming back to claim them at any time.
"You must be so lonely," she breathed, and took a step towards him. "We should have come to see you long before this." She took one of his hands in hers, brought it up so it was cradled between their bodies. Behind her his brother watched them both.
"You wouldn't mind waiting a bit before you go, would you?" he asked, his voice gone low and hinting at things David didn't know. He crossed towards them, stopping when he was by David's side, both him and his sister in his sight.
"I‑‑" David said, and his brother took his other hand, rubbing his thumb across David's knuckles.
David stared at him, then looked at his sister again. He felt very strange, something hot and shivery and dark stretching inside him. His sister tugged on his hand, placed it where his brother had touched moments ago, draping his fingers to rest along the edge of her dress, nudging them a little so they scraped over trim and onto skin. David let his fingers drift and heard his brother draw in a breath. His sister smiled. It was the most unpleasantly beautiful thing David had ever seen.
The servant coughed delicately, and his sister's smile faded.