“Gretchen!” Olivia said, offended. “I have never. Unlike some of my family, I honor the bond of marriage.”
Montague heard everything. He stepped back into the room. “We must alert the kingdom, my queen. This news will be the dawning of a new day. The kingdom’s future leader of Men has arrived,” Montague said, offering the basket.
He was well-aware of all the complications Olivia and Alexandal had had with trying to conceive a child. Alexandal was twelve years older than Olivia and he had been married to another woman before she died in the sack of Illyrium. Together for four years, the couple had never been able to conceive.
This tribulation had not been an isolated event. For years, the number of pregnancies across the land had been declining. It had become harder and harder for families to grow and multiply.
Before Burton had left to inspect the farms, he told Montague that the toxin found in the food supply was making people sick but also causing the infertility crisis.
Then Montague remembered the tales his sensei told about bringing an angel into the material world. On the physical plane, they were not conceived from human fathers. An angel would meet a woman in her dreams to plant his spiritual seed, only to be born from her womb. But according to the angelic writings in Gabriel’s Diary, the unfortunate reality was that the mother would usually die soon after childbirth. The energy to birth a being from the higher realms was too much for the human body to withstand.
But the conversation that Montague had overheard between the queen and Gretchen introduced a thought that had never occurred to him. There could be many children roaming the land that had resulted from secret sexual encounters between royals and peasants, or whores, who would grow up unnoticed and unknown. That was what the abducted children from Grale and Mern had in common with those that both Demitri and Bolo were trying to take from Ikarus. They were all bastards.
It seemed as though the baby’s soul had waited to grow in the queen’s belly until Ikarus was safer, in Demitri’s absence. Demitri must have waited for Olivia to get pregnant, but then became impatient when it seemed as if there was no hope for new blood, Montague thought. Demitri shifted his focus on finding bastard children that carried the Volpi gene. But surely he would come for the child once he heard news of a new royal Volpi.
The most anticipated nine months had come to pass. It was just days before the new prince was expected to join the world of Men.
In the early hours, Montague La-Rose returned to his chambers to find the queen pacing anxiously around his desk, reading a manuscript. Parchments were scattered across the room.
Olivia held up a sheet, discolored and burnt around the corners. “This document says that the following enchantment is meant to protect one’s mind from psychic attack,” she huffed, then held up another. “This one claims that these symbols will ward off any predatory entity trying to possess one’s soul.”
Montague hadn’t expected this. He had just been gathering berries from his garden for nuncheons along their trip. “My queen, I—”
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Olivia asked. She was standing still, but her hands shook.
“I have never kept anything from you; nor have I ever lied to you. These are only cautionary measures if something should ever go wrong. I still don’t understand how any of this even works,” he said sincerely. “But there is something that you are not telling me.”
Olivia let out a long breath. Her eyes were red and teary. “I want you to put a protective spell on me,” she said, covering her mouth as soon as she said the words.
Montague was shocked. Every time he heard the words, spell or mage, he shivered.
“I’ve been having such strange dreams lately,” she said, pacing faster. “A strange man haunts me, and then. I…I…have dreams that I’m being held under water, drowning. Last night I was being eaten alive by some…scaly creature. Every day it gets worse. Something just doesn’t seem right. And they’re not caused by hallucinations,” Olivia said. Her voice thick with tears.
“My dear, it is only natural that you are nervous about childbirth. The body goes through many emotional changes; fears become enhanced,” Montague said.
“No, you don’t understand,” Olivia dropped to her knees, crying. “Please, Montague.”
Montague drew closer and spoke casually to the queen. “I have never practiced any kind of magic; no spells, no rituals, no séances. I have no idea what I’m doing. I could kill you if I do anything or say even one word wrong.” The realization of his lack of experience with actual magic set in. Even though he had studied for years beside a great wizard, he knew nothing. A feeling of worthlessness came over him.
“Then, I order you,” Olivia mumbled.
The pain and desperation in her eyes were too great for Montague to deny the queen’s order. But he would never risk her life because of his ignorance. If his refusal to obey an order meant imprisonment, then he couldn’t look after Olivia.
“Fine, I’ll do it. But I beg you to reconsider,” Montague said. He had no intention of actually attempting any kind of real spell. He could say a prayer and draw a few symbols and make it appear as an incantation. “Come,” he said, picking up his bag. “We will perform the ceremony when we reach the falls.”
Olivia had planned to have the baby at the place where she and Alexandal first set eyes on each other, under the large redwood tree at Angel Falls only a few miles west of Ikarus.
The royal party left early. It was a cool, autumn morning and sunny across the skies without a single cloud. Lord Alexandal had compiled a small army of fifty soldiers to escort the royal party which included the queen, himself, the two foster children, Gretchen with five other handmaids, and Montague.
On their way, the party dismounted from their horses to walk through fields of vibrant plants and trees, hoping to sample the land’s delicious fruits and vegetables and filling their sacks for a later treat. But the ground was bone dry and there were fewer delicacies than usual. The lands had been thirsty for months. The air was dry with no sign of rain.
The journey lasted until late afternoon. They trotted to the bottom of the plateau and finally reached the valley where the freshest streams atop the hillside crashed down into the purest springs on the planet. The gorge had sandy beaches, and usually the water lapped at the banks, but the water level was dangerously low. The little drizzle that they had seen barely nourished the weeds. Swimming holes near the kingdom were drying up. The land needed water, the people needed water that, ironically, was the same element that had killed thousands nearly a year ago.
The sun made the shallow water’s surface sparkle and the mist from the waterfalls’ crash made every breath moist and smooth.
Alexandal halted at an assortment of stalky trees huddled together and threw his bags from his horse, then jumped off excitedly. “Here we are.”
“Excellent. The wind will be minimized by the trees and it’ll help trap the heat at night,” Montague said.
Alexandal helped Olivia down from the wagon. “I believe it was this one. Wasn’t it, my love?” he asked, touching the largest redwood in the group.
“It was,” Olivia said, kissing his cheek. “It seems right to have the baby here, where you proposed.”
Before night crept in, the Ikarus guards built a fire for supper and erected the royal family’s bison-hide bivouac. Later, they kept themselves occupied by telling stories about battles and swords, sex and whores as they took turns patrolling the camp.
The smoke of the late feast rose high above the hillside.
Inside the royal bivouac, Gretchen and the foster children arranged pillows and blankets for the queen. They sprinkled flower petals and lit candles all around. Montague peered out from the curtains blocking the entrance to find Olivia and Alexandal talking next to the redwood just feet away.
When Olivia saw him, she quickly wrapped up her conversation with Alexandal and headed toward the bivouac alone.
“Are you ready?�
� she asked Montague.
“Let’s do this casually, yes?”
Olivia nodded.
“Come!” Montague said to the children. “Let’s sing about happy thoughts so that the baby will feel safe when he arrives,” he said.
They sat around the queen, who lay across her feathered mattress. He asked everyone to recite common songs about love, family, and friendship while he drew symbols that he had seen before in his studies, but knew carried no kind of power without the correct words. He was even more terrified to attempt actual magic. This was all just a distraction. Making the queen believe he was doing something that he was not made him feel guilty. But it was a necessary deception.
In the moment, his life flashed before him. He missed the days when he was a child and everything was simple. He didn’t believe in monsters back then. What if he had never been exposed to all of this, he thought. What if monsters really didn’t exist?
After the short ceremony, Montague retreated to his tent. He imagined an angel, like Burton, coming to the rescue. How wonderful if he could put all of this in the hands of a being much more capable than himself to protect the world. He felt unworthy and was desperate for help.
SINCE THE day Montague had told her she was pregnant, Olivia Volpi had been pleading to the angels to make the night terrors stop. She wanted to handle this problem on her own, but the hauntings were too much. She’d found comfort praying at the Ikarus temple even though she didn’t share the same beliefs that were preached in those halls—beliefs that most people assumed she followed. But the queen would wear a veil to hide her identity. She would sit alone enjoying the privacy. During every visit to the temple, Olivia had thought about what people would think about their queen if they found out about her allegiance to Montague and his controversial faith. What would people think if they knew what I was really praying about?
As soon as Olivia fell asleep, she found herself in the middle of the woods, following a strange woman. The dreaming queen’s feet brushed across sharp stones and tree needles. They were heading towards a familiar place. The large redwood tree and the bivouac that Olivia was sleeping in were now before her. Olivia saw the guards sitting around a small fire, talking. As the queen and the woman came closer to the bivouac, the stranger reached in her gown and brought out her hand with two grimy fingertips, dripping with oily goo. When she clicked her fingers, a salty, bitter odor filled the air. Every breath became thick and potent. It made the guards faint.
In the light of the flame, Olivia saw the lanky, old woman flaunting three rotten teeth and a dirt-covered face, wrinkled and ragged. She wore a dark multi-stained gown with a ripped hood. Unnoticed, she slithered inside the bivouac of the most protected family on the planet without a sound. Olivia was right behind her.
The moonlight shone through the slit of the fabric entrance onto the cheeks of the children’s faces. Inside the bivouac was just as Gretchen had set everything.
Still dreaming, Olivia followed the woman as she crawled over to Anna and Indrid who lay peacefully next to their foster father, Lord Alexandal. The stranger sniffed the sleeping children’s breaths as they exhaled, her hand grazing their cheeks. But it was obvious to Olivia that Alexandal was the woman’s first target. The woman turned and stared at him deeply; shaking her head back and forth with an ominous smile. A string of saliva dripped from her lip as she placed her palm on Alexandal’s head and began to mumble. Deep undertones roared within her words, but she remained quiet enough not to wake the unaware. With the print of her finger fouled with dirt and blood, she stamped Alexandal’s forehead, leaving a thumbprint. Then the ugly face turned again, this time to the sleeping queen. Olivia saw her own body, lying there completely oblivious to the intruder standing just feet from her. And at that moment, Olivia realized she was having another nightmare. But this time, it felt real.
“How pretty you are,” the woman said to the sleeping queen, drooling on Olivia’s night gown; the one that her mother had fashioned for her for the birthday before she died. “As of this night, your riches and luxuries will end my sweet beauty. Everything is about to change.”
Fear overwhelmed Olivia. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t.
With overgrown fingernails the woman raised Olivia’s gown, exposing her belly decorated with angelic symbols. She put her ear on the queen’s stomach and listened for the baby’s heartbeat. Then, she drew symbols of her own with a dark, dusty powder. She spit on the animal hide underlayment and threw out an assortment of rocks and gems into the dribble, quietly chanting in a foreign language.
The mage straddled the dreaming queen. She gripped one of her wooden teeth and pulled the root out, exposing a long, sharp blade, then glided the edge along the queen’s belly, smearing all of the markings Montague had drawn earlier.
“Intruder!” a guard yelled from outside.
Everyone woke.
As Olivia’s nightmare abruptly ended, the hard, frantic beating of her heart felt painful upon waking. She was in tears, and the children were terrified by the ugly face standing before them.
Alexandal threw off his blanket and lunged at the mage, but she jumped from the bivouac and out of reach before the lord could grip her trailing gown.
MONTAGUE LA-ROSE saw the children running from the bivouac, screaming.
“What in God’s name is happening?” Montague shouted to one of the guards.
Panicked, the guard hesitated. “We were ambushed, my lord,” he stuttered, finding his thoughts.
“Montague!” Alexandal yelled, thrusting out from the royal family’s bivouac.
Montague tried to run faster than his legs could stretch. Gretchen was right behind him. Olivia’s cry sounded like she was in more pain than she should be. And he didn’t know what to expect upon entering.
When he and Gretchen passed through the curtain, they found the queen soaked with sweat. Her face was pale and cold, her eyes unfocused. Gretchen went back outside to attend to the frightened children. The smudged markings on Olivia’s exposed belly and the dust print on Alexandal’s forehead amplified Montague’s fear of what he was dealing with: witchcraft. No doubt this was a curse sent by Demitri, the Nekrum’s host.
Alexandal kneeled on the opposite side of the queen and took her hand. “It’s all right, my love. I’m with you.”
Montague could see both anger and fear in Alexandal’s eyes.
“Something’s wrong, Montague,” Olivia moaned with a desperate shiver.
“You’re having a baby. Everything is going to be fine.” Montague forced a smile. He needed to remain calm and relaxed, at least on the outside. It was important that he present a positive attitude to lighten the painful situation. But inside, he was terrified. The only things that mattered to him were the safety of the queen and the future ruler of the great kingdom of Men. It was all resting on the abilities of Montague La-Rose.
“No, something is wrong. Something has happened to me.” Olivia began to break down when she saw that the ‘protective symbols’ had been violated while she was sleeping.
The royal handmaids surrounded the queen. They applied dozens of cold towels across her head and shoulders, trying to lessen Olivia’s sudden fever.
“Please, Alexandal,” Montague said, pointing outside. “We need some room.”
Alexandal went back by the entrance and looked on, biting his nails and shaking at the knees.
Beneath the queen, her blanket became soaked. There was a slow trickle running down her legs. She was in labor.
Five hours passed before Olivia gave her last push. The baby boy entered the world of Men, and a new king was born.
The baby’s skin was pale gray; his lips and eyes framed in a shade of blackened-blue. He wasn’t crying or breathing. Montague attempted to push tiny breaths of air into the baby’s lungs. But he remained lifeless.
Olivia’s life was slowly fading, too. She was clammy. And she lost blood faster than the handmaids’ cloths could stop the bleeding.
Montague notice
d the maids’ reaction to the baby’s appearance. “A lack of oxygen,” he said, rubbing the limp baby’s back, hoping his comment would pass for an excuse to occupy their minds as a reason for why his skin was so strange.
He didn’t say anything about the baby being dead to Olivia. He couldn’t; not in her condition. He just wrapped the infant in a cloth and placed him in Olivia’s arms. Montague was sure that she didn’t realize that the baby wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t focus. “Our new king,” he said softly, an artificial smile blanketing his dejection. “What will you name him, my queen?”
Olivia’s eyes were fixed on the slit of the bivouac’s entrance. Drops were spattering on the desiccated ground. Montague couldn’t believe that after spending months in drought, the moment it began to rain was during the birth of the next Volpi.
Lightning crashed just above the hilltop.
“Rain,” she whispered, preparing a smile before the last breath escaped her body. Then Olivia became as lifeless as the infant seemed to be.
The queen was dead.
A great sadness brought Montague to his knees. The sorrow felt like it was consuming him.
Alexandal stormed out of the bivouac, scolding the guards. There was both devastation and fury in his tone.
Montague felt a black hole begin to vacuum every ounce of hope from his heart. He sat between two dead Volpis, shaking. Burton was wrong. I wasn’t strong enough, he thought. I have failed.
Lightning flashed again, a few yards away. Thunder rattled bones.
Suddenly, the baby boy began to scream louder than any new-born should. Montague felt the blood rush back to his face. The stranglehold on his hope was broken. The king of Ikarus, Rayne Volpi, lived.
Montague took the baby, making sure to wrap the cloth high enough to hide the baby’s gray skin. Exiting the bivouac, he held the infant up high. “Our king has arrived!”
Alexandal was stopped between his words with the guards and turned to Montague.
Under a Veil of Gods Page 9
