They might even be waiting for him together, both of them lying curled up and golden, arms reaching towards him. The night he promised them he'd do this one thing‑‑a simple thing, they'd said, a nothing ‑‑ he'd had them both at the same time, the Princess writhing against him, her mouth biting his neck as he pushed inside her while behind him the Prince's teeth raked across his shoulders as he pushed inside him, both of them promising him more nights like this, promising him forever, their hands linking together and wrapping him between them.
Just thinking about it‑‑he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. They'd been walking for at least half a day. They'd come far enough. If he hurried, he would be home tonight. Perhaps they'd already have someone there waiting for him. Of course they would. They'd promised. Just as he'd promised them.
"Do you want to stop for a minute?" he asked.
"If you want to."
Now, Joseph told himself. Do it now. He isn't even looking at you. He's staring at the trees. He brushed snow out of his eyes and let one hand fall to the handle of the knife resting snugly in a sheath by his side.
"Thank you so much for doing this. I've never seen a forest before, you know."
"I'm sure you've seen trees before, your Highness," Joseph said, and let his fingers close around the knife. He could see the Princess's face; hear the Prince's voice. He could feel them all around him. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to do this. They wanted him to.
"David," the man said. "I told you before, remember? And I haven't. Well, in pictures. But that doesn't really count, does it? This‑‑" he swept one arm out, "is much better." He smiled at him.
And it was nothing, Joseph told himself, just a smile and nothing more. No promises like those that lay behind the Prince and Princess's, no memories. Just a smile, but he knew he'd never seen a look of such pure happiness on anyone's face. He knew he'd never seen anyone so beautiful.
His fingers slid off the knife.
"I‑‑" he said, and he could hear the Prince and Princess urging him on but for once their golden call wasn't warming him, wasn't drowning the world around him. He saw himself standing poised in the middle of the deepest forest ready to kill instead. He tried to picture them the way he loved them and that they said they loved to be, all of them naked and together, but instead thought of the light of their eyes the night they told him what they wanted him to do, the way their smile at each other had made his flesh crawl.
Even then he'd known what they were going to ask him was something he wouldn't be able to do.
He'd known it.
"I have to go on ahead and check the path," he said helplessly. What was he going to do? Their voices weren't as strong as they'd been, their faces not as clear, but they were still what he wanted to see. "Sometimes hunters put out traps and I don't want you to get hurt."
"Really?" David said. "You don't?"
"Of course," Joseph said automatically, mind racing through possibilities. A fall, maybe? There was a hill not too far away, one that dropped into what had once been a river but was now nothing but solid ice. No, he couldn't do that either. Maybe‑‑
It stopped snowing. Joseph blinked and shook his head, not sure if what he was seeing was real, but it was. The snow had stopped. He looked up. Gray clouds were rolling across the sky, moving so fast it was as if they were being pushed. Behind them he thought he almost saw hints of blue. He shook his head again. He'd heard stories‑‑he looked at David, who was still smiling and who had actually sat down in the snow, as if submerging himself in it didn't bother him. As if he didn't feel it.
But he would. No matter what the stories were, Joseph knew no one could survive a night in the forest. The cold was too bitter, too strong. And if by some chance the cold didn't kill him‑‑well, he knew the wolves would. As soon as night fell they'd come out eager for food. Years of living in this snowy world had made them merciless, willing to strike at anyone or anything. David wouldn't live to see the morning. All he had to do was walk away.
"I'll be right back," he said. "Wait here."
"I will," David said, wrapping his arms around his knees. He waved as Joseph walked off. Joseph pretended he didn't see, and kept walking.
He looked back once, when he'd walked far enough ahead so that he could veer off the side and circle back without David ever seeing him. David was just a dot, a blur in the white of the snow that lined the forest floor, impossible to truly see.
"I'm sorry," he whispered and then turned, headed back out of the forest, and he was sorry. But not sorry enough to stop. He walked away, headed back home to wait for the Prince and Princess to summon him, back to what and who he wanted more than anything else.
***
The Princess shook when she announced the King was dead and the Prince had to hold her up, cradling her in his arms. Everyone wept at their grief, at how it had made them lean so strongly on each other. They continued to hold each other as they announced with tear‑filled voices that now they'd have to assume the burden their father had worn, that they would rule wisely and justly. They looked fragile standing there, as if their only support was each other, and everyone vowed silently to do anything to help them, anything at all. The Prince folded the Princess more tightly into his arms and let her hair drape over them so no one would see her smile. So no one would see his.
No one asked about David.
Joseph arrived home safely. He did not sleep well his first night home. He didn't sleep at all on the second night. His family chalked it up to amazement over the snow finally stopping. They hadn't slept well either. It was hard to since they were in the midst of a miracle. Everyone kept racing outside and staring at the clear sky. The town priest proclaimed a new world had arrived, God returning what was and always should have been to his faithful and a few people even whispered that the snow would melt soon, that soon things would return to how they used to be.
Joseph no longer wanted to go into the forest. He sat at home instead, sat always watching the door and moving eager‑eyed whenever a knock sounded, racing to open the door as if his life depended on it. His eager eyes always faded though, as if every visitor was not the one he was waiting for. His mother made him broth and patted his hand, kissed the top of his head.
"It's so beautiful now," she said, and strained to look out the window. For the first time in so long there were things to see in the sky besides snow. She didn't want to miss anything. "And they say the snow might melt soon. Can you imagine that? God has truly blessed us. You should go outside. The sky is so blue it's a miracle."
"It's not a miracle," he muttered. "Why haven't they called for me?"
"What did you say? I didn't hear you."
"Nothing," he said. "I'm tired, that's all."
"Go sleep," his mother said. "You'll feel better once you've rested, I promise."
Joseph went and lay down on his simple wooden bed. He thought about golden skin and voices whispering his name. He thought about promises.
He didn't sleep.
***
When it grew dark David knew Joseph wasn't coming back. He opened his bag and looked through it. His nurse's shawl wasn't there. The servant hadn't packed it after all. David knit his fingers together and thought of it sitting faded on a shelf in his room, of how it was there for him to touch whenever he wanted and how whenever he did he thought about her and didn't feel so alone. Around him the snow crackled, crisping into ice. He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Clouds were starting to fill it, shading out the stars. He took another deep breath and thought of his nurse's face. He thought about gingerbread and the trees in front of him, watched their scratchy tall shapes move in the wind. He lay down and felt the snow sink around him, welcoming him. Overhead the clouds shifted, drawing back, the stars shining brightly again. He found all the ones his nurse had told him about, watched them grow brighter as the night grew darker, stiller. They seemed so close, like he could just reach out and touch them. He liked that.