Snow

"It's from your brother and sister," Michael said and turned toward him, the gift in his hands. It was a basket, gleaming golden and studded with gems, and inside was a pile of round red fruit.

"Strange ones, aren't they?" Michael said, pushing the basket away. One of the pieces of fruit fell to the floor, split open. Inside it was white, the deep endless color of snow. David had seen fruit like that once before.

"Ah," Michael said, voice satisfied, and David looked at him. Michael was holding a bottle. It was made of crystal so fine it even outshone the splendor of the walls around them. "Now this is lovely," he said. "And the label says the bottle and the wine it holds were made in honor of you.

Shall we drink?"

David stared at his sweet sunny smile, at the bottle shining in his hands, and then nodded once, slowly. The diamonds in his hair were digging into his scalp, painful pressure that made his head ache. When Michael handed him a glass he took it. The wine sparkled, tiny bubbles dancing in it, and smelled lovely, sweet and tempting.

"A toast," Michael said and he was holding his glass up high. David stared at his still smiling mouth and lifted his glass up too.

"To forever," Michael said, a promise, and then lowered his glass. His mouth parted and the wine shimmered in his glass, sparkling as it rose toward his lips.

"Wait," David said, and Michael paused, a question in his eyes and past that, hope. All he wanted was for David to reply, to say that forever was what he wanted too. All Michael wanted was what David didn't want at all.

He took a sip of wine. It sparked heavy and rich on his tongue and when he swallowed he could feel it inside him, cool at first and then spreading warmth, a sweet glow. He leaned forward and took Michael's glass out of his hands, dropped it and then his own onto the floor. The sound they made as they shattered sounded very far away.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time he meant it. And then the warmth inside him sharpened, twisted, burned as he'd known it would. He could feel himself falling before he actually did, felt something inside him give way, melt.

Michael's voice saying his name was the last thing he heard.

***

She was by Michael's side moments after David collapsed, pulled him away from David, from the puddle of wine on the floor, from the golden basket of fruit. There was no reason to do it, just her desire to not see Michael like that, mouth open and face blank, body curved as if it was broken, his voice saying David's name over and over again, cracking higher and becoming more of a question each time. He shoved at her, hard, when she did but she held on tight, fear giving her strength. She was glad of it when the guard who went to pick up the basket collapsed, staring perplexedly at a piece of fruit that had fallen and he'd caught in his hand, when the maid who came to clean wavered on her hands and knees before tumbling over, a wet rag in her hands and shards of glass haloed around her.

"Poison," she gasped, stunned, and Michael turned to her, his eyes huge and devastated and then, suddenly, furious.

"Poison," he echoed, and within moments he was summoning messengers to send orders to his commanders, instructions for them to be ready to march by morning and speaking of war. He would not discuss what had happened, acted as if she hadn't spoken whenever she tried to ask about it. The royal physicians appeared as he was calling for maps, bowing low and clustering around David's body on the floor. When they looked at her, their eyes filled with fear, she knew what they were going to say. She nodded at them and said "Your Majesty?" quietly, waited for Michael to look at them. They were sorry, the physicians all said as one when he did, their heads bowed. They were so sorry. Michael nodded and stared fixedly at David who was still lying where he'd fallen, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He looked, Judith thought, happier than she'd ever seen him.

She looked over at Michael, saw the turned down line of his mouth. "You could tell them what happened," she said. "And perhaps they could--"

He shook his head, continued to issue orders for the gathering troops. The physicians looked at her seeking direction, waiting to be dismissed.

"Thank you," she said. "As you leave, direct the guards outside to come in. Tell them the body should be taken--"

"No," Michael said, his voice sharp. "Leave but tell the guards to--tell them to put him in bed."

Silence fell.

"In bed?" one of the physicians ventured. "Your Majesty, there hasn't been time to make a suitable burial--"

"No," Michael said. "My bed."

"Your Majesty," she said, waving away the doctors and praying they wouldn't gossip while already calculating how much they'd have to be paid to keep silent. "You can't--"

He looked at her and what she saw in his eyes took her voice.

"We leave at first light," he said. "I want you with us. Go and prepare."