On Azrael's Wings

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  Winking, Shonal said, “You’ll deliver her to the palace tomorrow evening. I can wait that long.”

  There was a long silence. “Excuse me?”

  Shonal’s tone was steel, the smile vanished. “I believe you heard me,” he said. “As it bears repeating, however, I’m ordering you to bring this morsel to the palace for my enjoyment tomorrow evening. Is that understood?”

  “I comprehend the order,” Azrael said.

  He ignored the implicit threat in her voice. “Good. As you stated before all these witnesses this afternoon, ‘I will be true to his life and rulership.’” Shonal sat back, smugness reflecting from his eyes. “I’ve already passed word that you’re not to leave the city. I’d hate for you to lose track of time tomorrow.”

  Azrael paced her sitting room, agitation in every step. “I’ll be damned if he’ll get his way in this,” she continued.

  “Lord,” Suma began only to be promptly cut off.

  “No, Suma. You’ll not talk me out of this. I plan total defiance in this matter.” Azrael stopped. “Wait! There is one thing I can do! Send for a scribe. I can’t very well send a body slave when I don’t have one, can I? I’ll free her!”

  The captain frowned. “I doubt that will stop him, Lord Azrael. He’ll just make her a slave once more, this time in his bed instead of yours.”

  “Milady,” Ursula said from her place near Azrael’s chair. “If I may?”

  “Yes, Ursula.” Azrael attempted an encouraging smile, knowing the girl was no doubt scared senseless. “Don’t worry, sweetling. I’ll not let that royal ass of a cousin have you.”

  “Perhaps you should, Milady,” Ursula said, her voice trembling. “He’ll feel he’s succeeded and leave you be.”

  “Never, Ursula!” Azrael turned to glare into the fire. “You don’t know my cousin’s appetites. It would have been better for those three to have had you in Theara.”

  “But, Milady, he seeks to hurt you! If you deny him, he’ll use it as an excuse to renounce you and your title!”

  “The girl is right, Lord,” Suma agreed. “You said yourself he thinks himself clever and sly. This could be the elaborate plot you feared he’d create.”

  “No! Both of you!” the dark woman shouted, rounding on them. “Suma, get me a scribe. I’ll have the paperwork brought up to free Ursula. She and one of the servants can leave the city in the morning.”

  Suma saluted. “Aye, Lord.”

  “I’ll also be sending messages to Brahim and Neito. They’ll know what to do.” She turned back to the fire.

  “As you wish.” Suma bowed and left the room.

  For a time only the sound of the fire crackling and popping could be heard. Azrael frowned, hearing something else. Slowly, she turned her head to see Ursula shaking with sobs and doing her best to stifle them. A flood of emotion filled her heart and Azrael went to the slave, kneeling before her and gathering her into her arms. “Ah, sweetling. No worries. I’ll see you’re safe.”

  “You’re freeing me?” Ursula asked, burrowing into the warm embrace.

  “Yes, it has to be done. Shonal can’t ask me to lend him a body slave I do not have.”

  “If I’m free, I can make my own decisions?”

  “Of course, love,” Azrael held the crying woman close. “In truth, I had planned on freeing you someday,” she admitted. “Just not quite this soon.”

  There was a noticeable hitch in Ursula’s breathing. “Why?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  Azrael sighed, feeling a lump in her throat and the sting of tears in her eyes. “Because I cannot wed a slave.” She pulled back to look into stunned amber eyes. Chuckling, Azrael said, “I had hoped you would grow to love me as an equal rather than a mistress.”

  Ursula sniffled, trying to comprehend what Azrael was saying. “You … you love me?” she asked. “As your equal? Or a slave?”

  Swallowing hard, Azrael wished a third time for this evening to be over. “I love you, Ursula. And I would like to see that love grow.”

  She ducked her head. “But I will not force myself upon you. I’ll free you and you can stay as long as you wish at my villa. Or, if you prefer to return home, I’ll see you’re safely escorted and handsomely paid.”

  “Did I not tell you what I wished this morning, Azrael?” Ursula asked. “I meant every word. I only wish to be with you.”

  Heart thumping, Azrael fought back tears as she crushed Ursula to her chest. “All the more reason to send you away now,” she whispered fiercely.

  “I don’t want to see you hurt, Azrael.”

  “I know, love, I know.” Emotions under control, Azrael pulled back to look into Ursula’s eyes. “As long as you’re safe, nothing can hurt me.”

  A knock at the door interrupted them, the scribe arriving as ordered. Azrael gave Ursula a hard kiss before rising, calling for the scribe to enter. It was going to be a long night of transcriptions and missives.

  The following afternoon found Azrael at her desk, eyes closed as she massaged her temples. Ursula had left two hours prior, dressed as a serving wench, with two other servants in tow. Presumably, the three were on their way to the villa in Wrendon to collect more personal belongings for their mistress’ stay.

  Azrael knew the biggest obstacle would be the gates. But the guard was looking for her or her people. She’d been sure to disguise the trio in the livery of another house to be safe. That and the increased comings and goings as errands were run and deliveries were made hopefully covered Ursula’s tracks well enough for her to escape. No doubt Shonal had his eye on the house and yard.

  Sighing, Azrael sat up and glanced out the window at the garden below. She missed Ursula terribly; had begun missing her the night before almost in preparation for the slave’s real absence. No. Not slave. Freed woman. It had taken every ounce of will to persuade the brunette to leave. She’d been afraid that her new status would change her mistress’ opinion of her. Despite the somber situation, Azrael chuckled, knowing that was the least of their worries.

  Among the many visitors to the house were no less than four messengers. Two each for Wrendon and her uncle’s estate. She’d had letters sent to inform them of what was transpiring, asking her uncle to see to things in her absence. Brahim’s letters were more detailed as she explained where certain papers were and what to do with them. If worse came to worse, Shonal would find a barren villa, all the slaves freed and escaped from his potential anger at her refusal.

  Her rooms were at the back of the house. Nevertheless, she heard the clatter of horses in the courtyard echoing off the garden walls. A challenge was called by the guard and she tensed, wondering if Shonal was too impatient to wait. There was an answer and all seemed well. Azrael relaxed.

  Several moments later, a gentle tapping at her door brought her from her mental wanderings. “Yes, what is it?”

  “You have a visitor, Lord.”

  Azrael frowned as she heard Suma’s voice. She wondered why he was the one to escort this guest. “Enter.”

  The captain eased open the door, his stern face graver than ever. Behind him, Azrael saw another, slighter figure.

  “Who is it, Suma?”

  Suma stood aside and let the person pass.

  The figure was somewhat familiar. When her identity registered with Azrael, the general rose. “My Queen!”

  “Hardly, child,” Queen Mother Gerina scowled, her voice sounding wet and rough. “You’ve never been one for social niceties. Don’t start now.”

  Confused, Azrael indicated Suma should leave. As the door closed, she noted the old woman slightly weaving and she hastened to bring a chair. Pouring a cup of wine for her aunt, Azrael refreshed her own and sank into her seat.

  A closer look at Gerina only served to verify what she’d seen the night before; the woman had aged considerably. Azrael found it surprising since the queen was of an age with her uncle and he was still quite vital. No longer the tall and stern mother of the prince royale, she seemed to have shrunk
in on herself and was now only half her original size. Her breathing was raspy, a rattle in her chest audible with every exhale. Gerina wore fine silks of blue and gray, a scarf draped over her iron gray hair and a satchel hanging from a frail shoulder.

  Azrael’s study was halted when she noted the fiery blue eyes.

  “O, how the mighty have fallen, yes?” Gerina asked, eyebrow raised. Before Azrael could respond, she scoffed and waved her to silence. “No need to be sensitive to my feelings. I don’t have them anymore.”

  Azrael opened her mouth, closed it, and finally spoke. “Why are you here, Your Majesty? Did the King send you to escort my body slave?”

  Gerina snorted. “Hardly. I warned him to keep away from you but he rarely listens to my counsel these days.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  The wrinkled face creased into a smile. “Always the blunt one, weren’t you?” she asked rhetorically. “I was quite happy that you were never one for court. I don’t think I could have stood the scrapping between you and Shonal for long.”

  Regaining her equilibrium, Azrael pursed her lips. “What’s done is done,” she said. “What brings you to my home now?”

  Their eyes locked, blue and black, as the two women battled with their wills. Eventually, though she didn’t release their gaze, Gerina nodded in slow and grudging respect.

  “Your father raised you well,” she said. “He succeeded far better than I. I’ll have to commend him when I reach the other side.”

  Azrael’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Forgive me,” Gerina said, her tone at odds with her words. “I’m used to a more civil tongue.” She heaved a sigh which resulted in a spasm of coughing. Dry and shrill, it almost bent her double.

  Unsure what to do, Azrael leaned forward and awkwardly patted the old woman’s back until her hand was batted away.

  Gerina gained control and took a large swallow of wine before sagging in her chair, face red, panting. Soon, the flush eased from her skin and she opened her eyes once more. They no longer radiated fire but a dull regret.

  “You ask why I’m here,” she said. “Why would I come to the house of my son’s cousin, a woman who is strong and just, feared and loved by the people?”

  Rather than argue the description, Azrael nodded.

  “I’m here because I need you to do something for me.” Gerina leaned forward. “I’ve spent my life devoted to my only son, seeing to his safety, ensuring he had the best education to lead his people, to be a great king. His father -” Gerina snorted again and looked out the window. “His father had other ideas. A good king, not great. But I knew Shonal had the ability to be the grandest ruler in the history of Barentcia!”

  Azrael listened, unimpressed. She could recall with ease how much the woman had doted on and spoiled her child.

  “But something went wrong,” Gerina said, shoulders drooping. “He doesn’t aspire to greatness. He’s too busy playing with the members of his court to be bothered with his people.” Shaking her head, she returned her gaze to Azrael. “Shonal enjoys power; he always has. Perhaps too much. I have proof that he … he …”

  Silence for long moments. Azrael finally begged the question. “Proof of what?”

  Blue eyes sparkled with tears, reflecting an emotion Azrael had never seen there. Fear.

  “Shonal is kin-and king-slayer.”

  The news shocked the dark woman to her core. She sat back with an explosive curse. “You can’t be serious!”

  Gerina’s tears began to fall in earnest. “I can. I’ve a witness I’ve hidden in the north and a sworn deposition.” The old woman fumbled for a kerchief from her satchel. “My son killed his father for the crown,” she whispered.

  Unable to sit still, Azrael rose and began pacing the room. “Why didn’t you tell Neito?” she finally demanded.

  “Tell Neito?” Gerina echoed, looking up from her misery. “If Shonal even suspects I know, he’ll kill me as well! His father was a strong man and I … I am nothing but an old woman. Besides, Neito and his son have been away from court for years. I had no opportunity to tell them.”

  Azrael paused and glared at her aunt. “But you’ll tell me. What is this thing you want me to do?” She was surprised when Gerina, ever the proud and strong woman, shrank away from her gaze.

  The Queen Mother pulled a parchment case from her satchel. “I have the deposition here. If you could get it to Neito, find the witness. Perhaps you can go to the council -“

  “The council?” Azrael growled. “They’re as terrified of my dear cousin as you are.” Resuming her pacing, the dark woman prayed to the gods that she would wake in her villa with Ursula at her side. When that didn’t occur, she stopped to stare out the window rather than browbeat the old woman. “Why do you think I’ll do anything anyway?” she asked. “I’m in enough hot water as it is with Shonal.”

  “Because I’ve instilled Shonal with a hatred for you,” Gerina said. “He’ll stop at nothing to destroy you now that he is in control.”

  Azrael sighed and sagged against the window casement. “Why?” she asked, voice soft. “I was never a threat to your precious son’s destiny. I never wanted to rule and am too far away in lineage to legally do so.”

  “Because you were everything I wanted him to be,” Gerina finally said. “Strong, forthright, proud. Give you a horse or weapon and you’d learn it instantly. The other children at court always followed you. You were born a leader.” She trailed off. “You had their love and didn’t even know it. It was all so casual for you. Shonal had to work at weapon craft, broke bones learning to ride. The children constantly picked at him.” Another pause. “I hated you for that.”

  A banging on the door interrupted further discussion. Azrael whirled about and strode toward it, yanking it open.

  “Lord Azrael!”

  “Milady!”

  The corridor held several servants, the steward and Suma. One of the servants was disheveled, blood flowing freely from a cut on his scalp.

  A chill soaked through Azrael’s blood as she recognized the wounded man.

  “Milady!” he said, voice slurred. “They came upon us at the gate! They took her and killed Joram! They left me for dead, as well!”

  “Who are they?” Azrael heard her voice ask, though She didn’t need an answer. She already knew.

  “The King’s personal guard, Milady!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “This is madness, Lord,” Suma exclaimed, his normal professional demeanor long fled in the wake of Azrael’s response. The other servants had been dismissed, leaving only the two of them and the Queen Mother. “He’ll never allow you near! You must know that!”

  Azrael finished belting on her sword. Pausing a moment, lips tight, she turned to the captain of her guard. “You’re correct. He’ll be looking for me to come after him.”

  Suma watched her closely, not daring to be relieved quite yet.

  Looking at Gerina, Azrael felt a dark burble of humor. The old woman was watching her closely, much as one would a particularly volatile reptile, the scrollcase still clutched in her hand.

  A slow smile bared Azrael’s teeth. She plucked the case free from its owner and handed it to Suma. “You,” she ordered, “will find the fastest horse in the city and get this to Neito. Take all the men - it must get to my uncle, no matter the cost.”

  Sputtering a moment, Suma took the scrollcase. “What of you, Lord? Who will guard you?”

  Azrael ignored him, turning to the old woman. “You,” she continued, “will get me into the palace under the guise of your guard.” Her tone brooked no argument.

  Gerina opened her mouth and snapped it shut. The doting mother fought with the still grieving widow for dominance. After long moments, she nodded once in sharp agreement, aged eyes reflecting a hint of the steel they’d always held.

  Pleased, Azrael turned to Suma. “Go!” she ordered, almost pushing him to the door. “This is evidence of a murder committ
ed by the King! Let no one stand in your way!”

  Duty warred with duty. “You’d best take care of yourself,” Suma growled, all semblance of the soldier replaced by the long time friend and companion. “I haven’t saved your life in many a fight to have you die now.”

  “I’ll not be the one dying,” Azrael said, taking the man’s arm. “Now get going. Let no one stop you.”

  “Aye, Lord,” the blond said, captain once more. “I’ll see you soon.” He left the room, not waiting for an answer.

  Azrael listened to his footsteps until he was out of range. Turning back to Gerina, she surprised a smirk.

  “You realize you will be dead by the end of the day?” the Queen Mother asked. “And I, as well. Either that or we’ll be side by side in the dungeons awaiting execution on charges of treason.”

  Shrugging, Azrael retrieved her wrist daggers. “No matter.” She busied herself with the bracers and, once all was ready, looked at her aunt. “Call your captain. Let’s get this over with.”

  Azrael rode beside the Queen Mother’s palanquin, dressed head to toe in the blue livery of the Queen’s Guard. Though the Guard was loyal to Gerina alone, tempting fate was not an option. Only the captain knew of the subterfuge being conducted. A guard of similar statue was now tied and unconscious in a storage room of Azrael’s manse, wearing nothing but smallclothes and guarded by the steward. There had been no challenge from the other Guardsmen. Azrael kept aloof from them to avoid detection, remaining at the Queen Mother’s side.

  The palace gates loomed large before them and a challenge was called. Halting, the troop waited, vigilantly protecting their liege as the captain urged his mount forward to respond.

  Guts tightening, Azrael watched the man with care, seeking any sign of duplicity. All seemed well, however, when the soldiers were ordered into the outer bailey.

  Another agonizing moment of panic, Azrael gritted her teeth as she heard Shonal’s guard overhead. A slight snarl bared her teeth, hidden beneath the helmet.

  The second gate came into view, another challenge called. Here Azrael could see that Shonal’s guard had been doubled. It was good to know the depths of her cousin’s caution. Through the gate, she noted quite a bit more traffic, even more than the night before with a palace full of revelers. As the troop was waved through, she saw a platoon camped in the main courtyard and archers in the palace windows where none had been before.