Snow

She hadn't said a word about what had happened until they were walking back and even then all she'd said was, "You shouldn't mind what people say about me."

"It's not--it's wrong," David had said and she'd stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him as if he had two heads.

"It's not anything except the way it is," she'd said slowly, as if she was talking to a small child, and then sighed. "All this and I still didn't get my cloth."

"I'll go get it."

"Oh sure, trust you to bargain and pick out fabric?" she'd said, but she was grinning at him. They went back, circling around to the small stalls and he'd listened to her bargain furiously with a stall owner before purchasing a length of cloth colored a washed-out blue.

They'd walked back quickly, Gladys urging him to move faster, muttering about evening approaching and things she needed to do, and as they'd walked up the stairs she'd begun coughing. By the time they'd reached the top she'd stopped, leaned against the wall, and coughed until her face was as red as her hair.

David took the bundle of cloth out of her hands and motioned for her to give him her key, ran into her room and got her a cup of water.

When he came back out Gladys' color was better and she was staring at his door. "What is it?" he asked. The look on her face frightened him.

"King's messenger has been here," she said huskily. "Look."

He did, saw a piece of paper pinned to door, folded and sealed with a huge gilded crest.

"You best read it straightaway," she said and David went to the door cautiously, touched the paper. It was heavy and the pin that pressed it into the door was finely made, thin but strong enough to be driven clear through the stout wood. "I can't," he said. "Will you--"

She laughed. "You think they teach miners to read?" Then she cleared her throat and fell silent, an uncomfortable look on her face.

"What is it?" he said, crossing toward her and handing her the cup. "Do you want me to make some tea?"

"Alec can read it," she said quietly. "Best take it down and wait for him to come home."

When Alec came in he was whistling, pressed a quick kiss to David's mouth after he took off his coat. "You look a little lost," he said, and grinned at him. David tried to smile back but he knew he hadn't succeeded when Alec said, "David?" concern in his voice. He handed him the note.

"What's this?" Alec said and then he turned it over, saw the seal. For a moment the look on his face was raw, broken. And then he opened the note and read it. David had only heard people read out loud before, prayers at church or proclamations issued in his father's name, but Alec read silently. When he was done he folded the note back in half carefully and then set it down on the table.

"What does it say?" David asked.

"The King wants to see you," Alec said and he wasn't looking at him anymore, was staring down at the floor. "Tomorrow."

"Oh," David said. "Why?"

"David," Alec said slowly.

"He--he knows? About--about--"

"Yes," Alec said. "He knows who you are."

David pushed away from the table, unable to think past the memory of his brother and sister promising him a trip, of how he'd felt when he realized what they'd meant and he'd been left alone in the forest, of his mother's former home whispering thick and bitter all around him, and Alec finally looked at him. "Don't," he said when he saw the look on David's face and stood up too, crossing toward him and pulling him into his arms. "You'll be safe, I promise."

"But--"

"I promise," Alec said. "Trust me?" David nodded.

Alec kissed him.

They didn't eat dinner. They went straight to bed, Alec's face intent as his hands skimmed over him, touching like he was reading him, like he was memorizing this moment, this night. He got up once, returned to bed with a little smile on his face and a plate piled high with gingerbread. "I think about this--you--sometimes, when I'm in the mines," he said.

"Really?" David said quietly. Alec had never mentioned the mines directly before. He'd never said that he thought about him, ever.

Alec nodded. "When they're calling down from the top--"

"Calling?"

"Heigh ho," Alec sang softly. "Means the foreman's coming. And sometimes, when the call comes, for a second I don't think about the rocks or the dark. I think about you and what you're doing and I can see you here, making more gingerbread, and I--I've never had anything--anyone-

-like that. That…that wanted to be here. With me." He cleared his throat, looked down at the bed.

David leaned over and took the plate out of his hands, pushed it toward the end of the bed.

"Heigh ho," he sang softly and Alec looked at him, his eyes huge and shining.

"You've wrecked me," he said, but when David moved closer he didn't move away.

"We could leave," David said as dawn was beginning to break. As soon as he said the words he felt his heart leap. "We should leave. Right now. If we hurry--"

"David," Alec said, but David was already getting out of bed, touching things and looking toward Alec's trunk, planning. Dreaming.