The Star Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “We’re getting out,” he said curtly.

  He would prefer to leave the nursemaid behind, since he did not trust her, but he needed the woman and her prodigious boobs to feed the babies. The woman stood slowly, looked at him and then at Liane, as the empress entered the room behind him.

  It took Liane a moment to realize that her second-born child rested in this very room. Still holding Jahn, she ran to the cradle and scooped little Alix into her arms. She held them both as she spun to face Sebestyen, an expression of wonder on her beautiful face. “You didn’t—”

  “Of course not.”

  He studied the occupants of the room with a weary eye. How would he manage to get three women and two babies out of the palace unnoticed? The prophecy was coming true around him, so he did not expect to see himself to safety, but his family...Liane and the babies would survive, and she would need Mahri and the nursemaid, at least for now.

  “The rebels are coming,” he said solemnly. “Liane is empress, and she will be endangered if she falls into the wrong hands. The children are the next rightful heirs to the throne, and so they are in danger, also.”

  “My lord, surely no one would harm the babies,” Mahri said.

  He glared at the naive maid. “You do not know what horrors men in pursuit of power are capable of. I do.” Mahri paled, but Liane did not. She had never been naive or fearful; he would be leaving his children in good hands.

  “We can get to Level Seven by way of the hidden stairwells,” he said. “After that we’ll have to use the main stairway to Level Ten. There’s a secret exit through the courtyard. If we can reach that exit before the rebels arrive, we can make our way to safety.”

  “And then what?” Liane snapped. “Where will we go?”

  He looked his wife in the eye. “I don’t know. I don’t care.” He didn’t expect to survive, but if he did, by some miracle...he would not look back. “Arik can have the palace, and the country.” She did not look at all forgiving. “If you still feel the need to kill me, can it at least wait until we get out of here?”

  Level One, which was usually bustling with sentinels and ministers and priests, as well as the daily goings-on of the emperor, was eerily silent. Those sentinels who had not deserted had moved down to the perimeter of the palace in order to protect it from the invaders. Did they realize that they were badly outnumbered? If not, they would realize that fact quite soon.

  Lucan searched the bedchamber, and the office, and the ballroom, rifling through boxes and drawers in search of the Star. He found jewelry and coins and proclamations, but he did not find the ring he was searching for.

  Isadora was anxious to move downward, even though to Lucan’s mind the witch’s confession proved that Liane was not in danger. Sebestyen was seeing to her safety. Still, she was not satisfied, and would not be until she saw the empress and the babies for herself.

  “It isn’t here,” he said angrily. “And if it is, then it’s well hidden.”

  “I could try a location spell, if you’d like,” Isadora said.

  He glared at her. “I must find the Star on my own. And I have told you—”

  “No magic. I have not forgotten, I was just trying to help.”

  If he did not find the ring, then it was not meant to be. He had done his best, and he would continue to do so. But if it was not meant for the Prince of Swords and the new King of Tryfyn to come now, then it was not time. Not all things were in his hands.

  “We will find the Empress Liane,” he said, dismissing his earlier distress. “If the Star presents itself, then I will know it’s time to retrieve it If not...” He shrugged. “I still have you, so I can’t very well call the trip a failure.”

  Isadora had not yet agreed to marry him, but as soon as Liane and the babies were safe, she would. She had all but promised him as much. Lucan rifled through a pile of precious stones and gold, just in case he had missed the ring he sought.

  The silence of Level One had lulled them into a false sense of security, and when the green-clad sentinel burst into the room and found Lucan with a handful of gems in one hand, he and Isadora were both startled. The sentinel shouted, “Thief!” and then he raised his sword and turned on Isadora.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When they reached the main stairway on Level Eight, Sebestyen heard the roar of the armies that approached. Time was running out—no—time had already gone. He should have been faster. He should have forced Liane to move more quickly, when she dawdled over her baby instead of listening to his commands.

  As they descended the stairway, he realized that the sounds of fighting came from outside the palace. The rebels had not reached the interior of the palace—not yet. There was still time...

  The sentinels who remained under his command, who had not deserted out of fear or disloyalty, held the invaders at bay, at least for now. There might be some resistance to the rear of the palace, beyond the courtyard, but no aggressor would see the three women and two babies as a danger. Liane was not dressed in crimson, he had seen to that, and none of the opposing soldiers knew what the empress looked like. Surely none of them would be on the lookout for twins.

  For a moment, Sebestyen thought that perhaps he would be able to escape with Liane and the babies and the two servants. For one fleeting moment he imagined the life he might have had, if he’d stepped aside years ago. He imagined a life outside the palace, far from the city of Arthes, where there were no duties beyond a man’s duty to his family.

  They were very near the doorway to the courtyard, escape so close he could almost taste it, when the ragged old witch ran from the shadows, knife raised and obviously intended for Liane’s back.

  Sebestyen rushed forward with a shout of warning and knocked Liane aside. She stumbled but did not fall. The knife that had been aimed at Liane’s back sliced into his arm, and an inordinate amount of blood spurted forth. He grabbed the witch with his uninjured arm and yanked her away from Liane. The old hag had one of the scarves that had been used to bind Liane to the bed cinched around her midsection, there where he had stabbed her.

  He should have made certain she was dead, but how could he have known that she’d have the strength to stage an ambush?

  He turned to Liane. “Go. Now.” Liane cast him a quick, questioning glance, and then she and the others ran into the courtyard. She knew the hidden doorway, and if he could hold off the witch and the soldiers and the priests, maybe she and the babies would be safe. Nothing else mattered, not the fate of his country or his life.

  “Don’t let them escape!” Gadhra shouted as she tried to pull away from his grasp. “I need the boy. I must have the boy. Don’t you see? He is meant to be emperor, and with me at his side he will be the most powerful emperor Columbyana has ever seen.”

  “Why would my son want you at his side?” He felt oddly dizzy, and blood poured down his arm.

  “To take the place of his deceased mother, of course. To advise and coddle, and teach him the power of dark magic, so that sleeping but potent energy can return to Columbyana, as is right. I have seen the possibilities in my dreams,” she whispered hoarsely. “I have waited patiently for this time to arrive, and I will not allow you to ruin it. All of Columbyana and all the worlds beyond will tremble at the feet of your son, and he will be under my command. All will fear and respect him, and his influence will spread like a wildfire until the very earth shakes with fear of his power. No, I will not be imprisoned in Level Seven when Jahn is emperor, as I was beneath you and your father. No one will dare to challenge me. I will teach Jahn, I will coddle and nurture him. I will be the only family he can call his own, once you and the whore and the other babe are dead. He will have no one else to turn to; he will listen only to me.”

  “You will not touch Liane or Alix. Jahn will not be emperor,” Sebestyen said. “And there will be no dark magic in this palace.” The arm that had been wounded did not work properly, so he released his hold on the witch to draw the knife at his waist. He swung with all his
strength, aiming for her heart. For all the years of training, for all the lessons on swordplay and knife work—he missed, catching bone.

  Gadhra aimed for his gut and her blade sank deep. “You are no longer necessary,” she said as she withdrew the blade.

  Sebestyen sank to the floor, feeling boneless and woozy and...dying. He was dying at last as Thayne had said he would.

  At least Liane had escaped. She would be safe now. She and the babies. He wanted to close his eyes and be done with this life, but he wasn’t finished. Liane and the babies were not safe, not yet. The witch planned to kill all but Jahn and then...he did not want to imagine what plans she had for his eldest son.

  If Gadhra got her hands on Jahn, she would find a way to control him. Through magic and through grief, she would wield her influence. She would bring dark magic to power, and his son, his innocent son who might one day be the good man his father was not would be at the helm of it all. The ragged, evil hag would ruin Jahn’s only chance at a happy life.

  He whispered hoarsely, nonsense passing his lips, and the witch leaned down. “What did you say?” she whispered. “Perhaps I will one day tell Jahn of his father’s last pathetic words, and we will laugh together. Do you beg for your life or for your soul? Both are lost and always have been. Jahn will not be weak like you,” she said. “I will not allow it.”

  He muttered again, nonsense even he did not understand.

  “If you’re trying to delay my pursuit you can save your precious breath. I can find those I seek with the magic I embrace, no matter how far ahead of me they are, no matter how long they have been out of my sight.”

  Sebestyen shook his head, and he reached weakly for the old woman, the old witch. “You must tell...it’s important...” What would make her come closer? “The gold,” he finished in a breath.

  The hag, intrigued at last, leaned down a bit farther, and with his last bit of strength Sebestyen grabbed at her ragged garment and pulled her down. This time, when he aimed for her heart he did not miss. “You will not touch my family,” he whispered. “You will not have my son.”

  He did not have the strength to push the dead witch off his body, but it wasn’t long before someone else moved the body for him. A soft voice twittered at him, scolding and angry and perhaps sad. When the weight of the witch was gone, Sebestyen opened his eyes.

  Liane dropped down to her knees beside him. “Foolish man,” she said. “What have you done?”

  “You should not have come back,” he answered. “Take the babies and go.”

  “Mahri and the nursemaid have the babies, and we have arranged a meeting place,” Liane said sensibly.

  “Why didn’t you run? Why did you come back?” She could be well away from the palace by now, perhaps past the worst of the fighting.

  “I came back for you.” She tore back his ripped robe and looked at his wound, and then she went very still. “Gadhra did this.”

  Sebestyen nodded, or at least he tried to.

  “And you killed her.”

  “The old hag wanted Jahn,” he explained. “She was going to kill you and Alix and...and take Jahn. She wanted to do to him what the priests did to me, only what she planned for him was much worse. I couldn’t let her have him.” His fingers gripped Liane’s skirt and held on tight. “Take the babies away and hide them. Don’t let anyone know who they are. Until Arik has children, they are the first and second in line for emperor. The witch is dead, but there are others who would use them, others who will want to kill them, and you. Don’t let that happen, Liane. Don’t.”

  A few tears ran down her face, even though she rightly hated him. “I’ll bind your belly, and you can come with me.” He shook his head. It was too late. He was dying, and while he feared what would come after his death, since he hadn’t exactly lived a life of virtue and honor, he was ready to go. It was time. “I’m sorry.” Sorry for more than he had time to say. Maybe she knew...maybe she understood him in a way no one else ever had.

  “You can apologize for all you have done to me later.”

  “There is no later, Liane. Go.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Go, before someone sees you.”

  She leaned down and kissed him, not as she had in the years when she’d been his concubine, not as she had in the months she’d been his wife, but sweetly. Gently. It was a good way to go, he imagined.

  “After everything you’ve done, I still love you,” she said.

  “I have loved you for as long as I can remember,” he confessed. “I love the babies, too, in a very deep and unexpected way. I’m glad I got to see them. I’m sorry I...I’m sorry.”

  He lay there for a moment and thought about the babies. One fair in coloring, one dark. Away from the palace, what would they grow to be? Strong men, he imagined. Strong, decent men who would take care of their mother. Without Gadhra’s influence or the interference of the priests, each would have a chance to become what he had not: a good and honorable man.

  Liane still hadn’t left his side. Soon the palace would be overrun with invaders, and she could not be here. Sebestyen knew the best thing he could do for the woman he loved was to die quickly.

  So that’s what he did.

  Lucan didn’t have time to reach Isadora before the blade fell, but the lessons he had given her had instilled her with an instinctive talent. She turned, stepped smoothly aside, and deflected the attacker’s blade with her own. By the time the sentinel had gathered his wits to try again, Lucan was there.

  “I am no thief,” Lucan said as he disarmed the sentinel.

  The soldier glanced at the handful of jewels, which Lucan tossed aside. “I am searching for something that belongs to me, but I suspect it is not here. Where is the emperor?”

  “I don’t know, Captain.” The sentinel waited bravely to die.

  “The empress?” Isadora asked, her voice low and quick.

  “I have not seen Empress Liane since she and the infant prince made an appearance at the Spring Festival.” He swallowed hard. “She did not seem well.”

  “You have not seen her today,” Isadora pressed.

  “No. I believe they have made their escape and left a handful of us to fight for the throne. The battle has begun, and we are badly outnumbered.” He glanced at his sword, which lay on the floor several feet away. “I suppose you’ll kill me now.”

  Normally, he would do just that. The man had tried to strike Isadora with his blade! But Isadora had been very insistent about not killing unless he found it necessary. This sad little boy would live to make foolhardy decisions another day. “I can kill you, or I can take you prisoner.”

  “I would rather be dead than tortured on Level Twelve, or worse, dumped into Level Thirteen and forgotten.”

  “Arik doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who will torture his prisoners, and I suspect Level Thirteen will be forgotten. I will have to bind your hands, however.”

  The sentinel gratefully offered his hands, and Lucan bound them tightly with a length of cord that had once been used to pull back a heavy drape. He then bound the man’s ankles, and lashed him to the bedpost.

  “You’re going to leave me here!” the sentinel shouted as Lucan and Isadora headed for the door.

  “Don’t worry,” Lucan called back. “You won’t be alone for long, I imagine.”

  The palace was eerily silent without the hum of the unnatural lights and the Level One fans and the occasional screech of the lift. Strange that he should have become accustomed to those sounds in his short time here. Still, as he and Isadora descended the stairway to Level Ten, Lucan felt an unexpected relief. Maybe the Star of Bacwyr was gone forever, and he would not be Prince of Swords. His country needed a King, and a lasting peace would be welcomed by all the clans, but perhaps it was not yet meant to be.

  As First Captain, he held great influence over the Circle. Even if he were not Prince, he could do his best to bring peace to the clans until the coming of the rightful Prince and the new King was upon them
. And he could do it with Isadora at his side.

  For now, his only objective was getting Isadora safely out of the palace. There was intense fighting beyond the palace walls, in the streets of the city surrounding the massive edifice, but Sebestyen’s soldiers were so badly outnumbered they did not stand a chance. What kind of a man would willingly die for a ruler like Emperor Sebestyen?

  As they approached Level Ten, Lucan saw the witch’s motionless form, and his heart skipped a beat. He had bound the old woman’s hands tightly before leaving her alone in the room where the empress had been held captive. Some unnatural magic had freed her, he supposed. Had she succumbed to her wound? Or had someone finished her off as she’d attempted escape?

  Before he took two more steps, he saw the other body and realized what had happened. Emperor Sebestyen was half sitting against one wall, his body as lifeless as the witch’s, his eyes open and glazed. Lucan glanced down at the man’s bloody right hand with a short-lived burst of hope, but there was no ring on his little finger.

  Isadora placed her short sword aside and placed three fingers at the witch’s throat, searching for a sign of life and finding none. She then turned to the emperor, and even though it was quite clear that he was dead, she touched her fingers to his throat as well.

  “It appears they killed one another,” she said.

  “I can’t say I’m sorry to see either of them dead,” Lucan said without emotion, as he collected the sword Isadora had carried on this long day. She would have no more need of it, so he sheathed the weapon in the scabbard at his side.

  Isadora glanced up at him in obvious annoyance. “Yes, but who will tell us where Liane and the babies are? Are they safe? Did he secret them somewhere before Gadhra killed him? How will I prove to myself that my job here is done if I can’t find Liane?”

  Lucan offered his hand, and Isadora took it. He helped her to her feet. “I suggest we start by asking your sister.”