The Fallen Queen

by Jane Kindred

I stared at Vasily, stunned, and he pushed me away. When he fell to

  his knees and began to weep, I had no idea what to do. My face blazed

  from the vulgar way he’d spoken to me, but I couldn’t tell whether it

  was from indignation or shame. I also felt again that puzzling instinct of protectiveness. I knelt and put my arms around him, and he clung

  to me and cried against my shoulder. I had never heard a grown man

  weep, let alone a demon. The depth of his pain was almost unbearable.

  “How could he leave me?” he whispered. “I was his again at last,

  and he left me.”

  “You’re the sweet return.”

  Vasily lifted his tear-stained face. “I’m what?”

  “The letter he left for me. He said he had only lost one wager in

  his life, but it had finally yielded a sweet return. He meant you, didn’t

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  he?”

  The demon took off his spectacles, too splattered with tears to be

  of any use, and was quiet for a bit before he sighed and began to wipe his eyes. “He’s gambling again. He’s up to something completely mad

  if he thinks he can game the Seraphim. I don’t think he’d risk it if he thought there was an alternative. But it’s true; he never loses. And he never plays a hand he can’t win.” He smiled reluctantly. “His vice is

  gambling. Mine is spirits. I’m afraid I’m insanely drunk.”

  “Not insanely,” I said. “Perhaps approaching mild dementia.”

  Vasily burst into full-throated laughter and punched me on the

  arm. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind. And now if you’ll help me

  up the stairs, I’ll sleep it off in my room and pretend I don’t remember any of this in the morning.”

  Shortly after lying down, however, he became violently ill. The

  home-stilled vodka hadn’t agreed with him. I tended him throughout

  the night, helping him to the washroom when he could barely stand,

  peeling his sweat-soaked clothes from him and pressing damp cloths

  to his forehead when he trembled with fever, and at last crawling into bed to hold him while he shook with chills. With the heavy curtains

  drawn, the illusion of night was there, though in reality the demon was weak and delirious and didn’t come fully to himself until nearly thirty-six hours later.

  But before he did, I made a discovery. Gathering up his clothes to

  put them in the wash, I noticed his boots behind the half-open closet

  door and thought it odd he hadn’t left them downstairs on the rack.

  I picked the boots up and saw an object tucked inside one of them,

  deep in the toe. I glanced at Vasily to be sure he was sleeping, and

  then pulled out a silk pouch the size of his fist. The pouch bore Ola’s stitchwork—and was full of celestial facets. This was the price for my safety.

  Belphagor had told me facets were more valuable here than in

  the Firmament. I could easily pay my fare to Lake Baikal with just a

  few. I counted out a dozen, just to be safe, before tucking the pouch

  back into the boot. If I left now, with Vasily delirious with fever, he’d never catch me in time to stop me. And I was certain he would try;

  Belphagor had left his instructions, after all.

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  And mine were to take care of Vasily.

  He moaned in his sleep and tossed beneath the covers while I

  tucked the facets into my pocket. The image of him weeping on his

  knees twisted at my conscience. I could see him through his illness at least. I could wait just a little while longer before I left.

  When he ceased his shaking and tossing, I fell asleep beside him,

  and awoke sometime later to find him propped on his elbow watching

  me.

  “My angel of mercy,” he said with a sheepish smile.

  “You’re better.” I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees.

  He shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it, since I can’t remember

  how I got to the bed. I must have gotten a bad batch of vodka.” He

  tugged at the corner of my shirt. “You’re not wearing your binding.”

  I blushed and hugged my knees more tightly. “It was uncomfortable.

  I’ll wear it when I go out.”

  He lifted the sheet that covered him and then let it fall back into

  place. “I seem to have nothing on at all. Did I do that, or did you?”

  “I tended my brother when he was ill,” I said defensively. “You

  have nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “Your brother!” He laughed. “Isn’t he… ?”

  “Dead.”

  His face paled. “Oh, Nenny, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I was only

  going to say ‘a child.’ Please forgive me.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to put the images of that night out of

  my head. I hadn’t seen Azelly, I reminded myself. I had not seen him.

  “You’ve been so kind to me,” said Vasily. “Bel and I, we weren’t

  kind. We treated you cruelly after such tragedy.”

  “You didn’t know me. Kindness then… I think it would have

  killed me. You did me a favor.”

  “Nenny.” Vasily’s voice was stern.

  I opened my eyes.

  “We weren’t indifferent. We were cruel. Belphagor shaved your

  head, for pity’s sake. I think it pleased us to see you so brought

  down. We despised you for who you were.” He fingered one of the

  curls starting to grow again at my temple. “We didn’t know, of course, what had happened, or exactly who you were, but we knew you had

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  suffered, and we were glad of it. I’m not proud of that.”

  I shook my head, not certain what to say. He didn’t need to tell me

  any of this.

  “Nenny—”

  “Don’t.”

  He pulled back his hand as if I’d bitten it.

  “Don’t call me that, I mean. I know you mean to be kind. But it

  was the name… ” My body trembled when I tried to speak. I couldn’t

  utter Azel’s name, or Kae’s. My breath caught in my throat, and Vasily pulled me into his arms and held me as I’d held him in his grief.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Just tell me what you want me to call you.

  If you prefer Malchik, we’ll leave it at that.”

  I was tired of keeping a secret that he and Belphagor had surely

  guessed. They knew I was a supernal grand duchess; which one was

  fairly obvious. Still, the breath it took to say it seemed heavier than all the air in the world.

  “My name is Anazakia Heli—” I squealed in surprise into the

  hand he pressed against my mouth.

  “Hush,” he whispered, and gripped me against him. “There are

  things you mustn’t tell me.” He removed his hand, his expression

  apologetic.

  “Nazkia, then. Or is that still too much?”

  Vasily smiled. “Nazkia.” He murmured it again. “Nazkia.” And

  then he shocked me to my core by pulling me close and kissing me

  as if he hungered for me. I’d stolen a kiss from a page once on a dare, but this was altogether different. It set the entire surface of my flesh tingling, like a current of elemental radiance. There was no mistaking the gesture for anything tender or brotherly.

  He let me go, and I gaped at him, my face flushed. Vasily withdrew

  his arms and pulled one nervous hand along the bearded frame of his

  jaw toward the stubbled gap at his chin where he hadn’t shaved in two

  days.

  “Derrmo,” he breathed. “Nen—Nazkia. I swear to you, I did
n’t

  mean to do that. It was just a reflex. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He reached for his pants at the end of the bed and leapt out on the

  other side to pull them on, facing away from me, but I’d seen his

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  arousal. No child, indeed. Heat rose in my cheeks.

  With his back to me, I also had a clear view of the marks

  Belphagor had left on him, much more deliberate than I’d assumed or

  understood. His flesh was scored with more than a dozen delicate and

  perfectly placed welts. Only the bruised flesh blooming out around

  them showed how deep they went.

  When he’d finished buttoning, he faced me, his expression pained.

  “Can we forget that happened? It won’t happen again.”

  “I thought… ” I cleared my throat. “I don’t understand. You told

  me Belphagor was—I thought you and Belphagor… ” My blush

  deepened. “You said you weren’t interested in my ‘blossoms.’”

  “I wasn’t. We are.” He cleaned the lenses of his spectacles against his jeans. “Belphagor is only attracted to men. I’m… less discriminating.”

  He swallowed. “I misled you. It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t expect… ”

  He rubbed his face and put his spectacles back on before continuing

  in a calmer tone. “I don’t want you to fear me, Nazkia. Please believe you are absolutely safe with me. I would never harm you.”

  “I wasn’t afraid.” I met his gaze for an instant and quickly looked

  away. There was just the slightest hint of fire behind the muddy

  blue of his eyes. “Does Belphagor know? I mean, that you’re ‘less

  discriminating’?”

  “The matter has never come up.”

  §

  Vasily made himself scarce after taking a shower, and I went

  down to the garden after my own to distract myself from the cyclone

  of thoughts in my head. I forgot myself in the pleasure of fresh earth beneath my fingers, and in the hum of bees and chattering of birds.

  One lost a sense of time under the northern sun, and it wasn’t until I grew hungry that I realized how long I’d been in the garden.

  Vasily had gone up to bed by the time I went in, and I retired quietly to mine after a snack of tea and biscuits. I had not yet learned to cook and was dependent upon the demon for anything more substantial.

  I paused in pulling the curtains shut across my veranda. The light

  of the summer night lay with a bronze sheen over the surrounding

  countryside, as if the sun that loitered on the horizon had set the world on fire. I had never seen its like in Heaven.

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  Beneath my binding, the locket felt hot against my skin. I reached

  into my pocket and felt for the small stash of facets, touching the hard edges, reminding myself of their possibility. My lips still tingled at the memory of Vasily’s unexpected kiss. What might happen if I stayed? I

  could be halfway to Moscow before he woke.

  I crept out quietly, leaving the door open just a crack to avoid the

  click of the latch, and carried my boots until I was well away from the windows. Years of practice sneaking out to play the tables in Raqia

  made my caution second nature. Beyond the path at the end of the

  garden, a road that had once been paved but not maintained led

  farther into the trees, but I was certain it was the right direction.

  After walking a great deal longer than I remembered the road

  to be, I came out of the trees at last into a clearing on the stunning green banks of a wide river. Its water was as blue as any ocean, a

  glittering ultramarine. The colors blurred together, the bright blends of a fantastic painting under the amber haze of subarctic summer

  midnight.

  I stood mesmerized by the sparkling movement of the water for

  some time before turning to retrace my steps and head back toward

  the highway. Less than a dozen feet away, Vasily stood staring at me,

  hands on his hips.

  “Oh, no, you will not. Just because I felt bad about the way we treated you doesn’t mean you’re free to go off wherever you please.

  Belphagor told me to keep an eye on you, and that’s what I intend to

  do.”

  I resisted the urge to stomp my feet in childish frustration. No

  matter how carefully I slipped away from them, the demons always

  found me. I’d never had such terrible luck sneaking out of the palace.

  “Do you do everything Belphagor tells you to do?”

  Vasily raised a rather wicked eyebrow but said nothing. I sighed

  and walked back to the dacha without a word.

  “Just where did you think you were going?” he demanded when

  we arrived at the garden gate.

  “Nowhere. Just out for a walk.” I reached for the gate, and Vasily

  grabbed my arm.

  His firm grip softened when I frowned at him. “Walking again—

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  why, because I kissed you? Because I’ve made you uncomfortable?”

  I continued to stare at him, and he let go of me.

  “No.” I scowled. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  We returned inside, and the demon broke out another bottle of

  vodka. I was surprised he had no aversion to it after the last one had made him sick. I slumped into one of the embroidery-upholstered

  chairs, sulking over my near-escape.

  Vasily shook his head and poured me a glass. “Do you realize that

  just by going outside, you’re putting the civilians here in danger?”

  I kept my head down and took a sip of the drink he’d given me.

  “If one of them were to see you, and the Seraphim got the idea

  they might know where you were… ” He pushed his glasses up the

  bridge of his nose and gave me a significant look.

  I sighed, hating to be reminded of it. “How did you know I was

  gone?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” Vasily poured a taller glass and sat opposite me.

  “Guess I’d done enough of it already. I heard you the moment you

  went out the gate.” He drank his vodka like it was water. “So are you

  going to tell me what you were up to?”

  Already becoming warm and relaxed after a few sips, I looked into

  my glass. Perhaps I should tell him of my hope—no, my conviction—

  that Azel was alive. Perhaps Vasily would even help me. Belphagor

  wouldn’t like it. He’d tell me to keep such information to myself. But Belphagor wasn’t here. I swallowed the heat of my drink, prepared to

  tell Vasily everything, but he spoke once more, apparently taking my

  hesitation for a refusal to answer.

  “It doesn’t matter if you tell me or not. I know what you were up

  to.”

  My chest tightened.

  Vasily leaned forward and topped off my glass before refilling

  his. “If you think you’re going to throw yourself in the river on my

  watch, you’d better think again.” He pointed his glass at me, and liquid splashed over the rim. “If I have to put a lock on your bedroom door

  to keep you from doing something stupid, I will.” Vasily drank again,

  once more draining the glass. “I’m no Bel with the locks, of course. I’ll use keys. And I’ll wear the keys around my neck, so don’t think you

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  can take them while I’m sleeping, either.”

  “How would I take the keys from you if I’m locked in my room?”

  He poured another glass. This time he spilled as he poured, the

  drink obvio
usly having dulled his senses. “Bel is really good with

  locks,” he said, not listening to me. “He’s very good with his hands.”

  His voice became even more gravelly than usual with drink. “Best in

  Raqia. That’s why he’s the one with the portal.”

  I stopped with my glass halfway to my lips. “The portal? Why?”

  “The spell for the portal is very, very tricky. Bel’s tricky. Bastard.”

  The spell for the portal. Of course there would be a spell. Such a doorway could not be left unguarded; the world of Man might overrun

  Heaven. What a fool I was. It hadn’t even occurred to me I might need

  a spell to get back in. If Vasily hadn’t stopped me, I might have traveled all the way to the gates of Heaven only to be locked out by peasant

  magic. I cursed myself silently, fretting over this complication while Vasily continued to ramble.

  “And now he’s up to more tricks.” Staring at his drink, the demon

  shook his head. “I don’t think he knows what he’s gotten himself into.

  The Seraphim… they’re not just after you.”

  I frowned, my train of thought interrupted. “What do you mean?

  What else are they after?”

  “I think they’re after me.” Vasily poured the last of the vodka into

  his glass. “I… fell in with a bad crowd.” He tilted his drink toward me with a knowing nod. “Social Libationists.”

  “Social what?”

  He leaned toward me and whispered loudly. “Revolutionaries.

  That’s what comes of hanging out with angels. Not you. I mean student

  angels. Angel students. Zevliuliuns.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Zevulans?”

  “Mm.” He took a healthy swig. “Them too.”

  I stifled the urge to laugh. The universities at Zevul, Papa had

  always said, were full of “high ideals and temporary zealots.” No

  one took such talk seriously. I pondered the more tangible problem

  of getting back into Heaven, mulled it over my drink, and at last

  determined I’d have to take Vasily into my confidence. There was no

  other way.

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  “I wasn’t going to jump in the river.” I took a deep breath. “I was

  going to find my brother.” I looked up to see Vasily slumped in his

  chair, his head nodding and his eyes closed. I grabbed his empty glass before it could fall out of his hand.

  Taking a blanket from the cedar chest that served as a tea table, I