by Jane Kindred
Word of Belphagor came at last—not from him, but from the
periodic communications issued by the Liberationists. The prevailing
rumor was that Belphagor had become a favorite of the queen, and
the principality wanted him dead. Vasily didn’t care for the sound of
this. Whatever Belphagor was playing at, he seemed to be in over his
head.
He’d tucked the letter Belphagor left him into the drawer of his
bureau, and he sat in his room and smoothed out the crumpled paper
to read it again.
My dearest boy,
When you receive this, I will be gone. Believe me when I say it’s best for all of us. It pains me to take this action now, when you have been so good. Know that you have done nothing wrong; it is impossible.
I have a wager to put forth to the celestial “GRU” that I believe will be very well received, and I expect to be handsomely rewarded.
Foremost in my concern until this transaction is complete is your
safety. I will send an envoy when what I’ve done can be explained
without compromising that. Until then, carry on with the terms of our financial arrangement with the guardian of our charge.
Have faith in me. You cannot have pleased me more.
Your Belphagor
He’d asked Vasily to have faith in him, but it wasn’t Belphagor
he didn’t trust. The new principality had slaughtered Anazakia’s
family. Belphagor had obviously determined the queen to be the
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more powerful opponent and was working some kind of game with
her. From all they’d heard, Belphagor’s assumption was correct. But
Vasily felt certain Belphagor had underestimated the danger from the
weaker principality. Kae was a volatile and unpredictable element
who wouldn’t be bound by the rules Belphagor expected.
With this threat to Belphagor and the increasing time Anazakia
remained in a celestial prison as hostile, by all accounts, as any in the world of Man, Vasily could no longer sit patiently and let the game
play out.
Portal or no portal, he had to find a way into Heaven.
THE FALLEN QUEEN 227
Dvadtsat Tritya: A Friendly Game
from the memoirs of the Grand Duchess Anazakia
Helisonovna of the House of Arkhangel’sk
Belphagor hadn’t visited again since I’d told him of my pregnancy.
It was odd to think this word applied to me, but it grew increasingly
obvious that it did. The nausea subsided, and in its place was a vague, fluttering sensation of life within me. The shapeless prison gown
hid my protruding belly, but it wouldn’t do so for long. With meager
sustenance, the change showed even more than it would have on a
well-nourished body. Ola’s pink, rounded face came to mind—Ola,
when she’d been happy and anticipating the birth of Kae’s child.
The fragile emotions of my early gestation gave way to fierce and
bitter determination. I no longer wept when I thought of Ola or the
rest of my family, and certainly not for myself. In the spans of sleep broken only by the plate of food pushed into my cell and the weekly
changing of the bucket, I dreamt of retribution. If fortune ever smiled on me and I managed to escape this place, the first thing I would do
was find a blade and bury it in Kae’s throat. Belphagor would pay
as well; whatever he was up to with the false queen, I intended to
knock him from his pedestal. And his precious Aeval—how I wished I
hadn’t lost the flower of the fern. Whatever else happened, I’d see her brought down before I died.
And yet the more the baby grew within me, the more I wished to
live.
A key grated in the door of my cell. What passed for a meal here
228 JANE KINDRED
had already been delivered for the day. I stood and braced myself
when the door opened. That they would bother with me now could
only mean further indignity. I squinted at the splendor of the Ophan
behind the jailer.
“You are to come.” The Ophan’s voice sent the usual unpleasant
tingling along my nerves. The other angel unchained me and pushed
me toward the door, and I followed the Ophan, who mercifully said
nothing further. Perhaps Aeval had decided to execute me after all.
I looked about for a possible route to freedom, but guards stood at
every juncture of the corridors.
The Ophan took me to the open bathing room where they’d
scrubbed me after my first humiliating audience with the queen and
ordered me to surrender my gown. I did so without allowing a flicker
of discomfort on my face to give him satisfaction. He pointed toward
the tub of water in the center of the room. Unlike my first bath here, which had burned with freshly heated water, this one had been used
several times.
I submerged myself in it reluctantly, gasping at the cold, then took
the brush from the stool beside the tub and scrubbed as quickly as I
could. The Ophan seemed in no hurry to let me get out until I was
thoroughly bathed. My hair was matted where I’d slept on it and it
was impossible to do anything more than soak it. When the Ophan
ordered me out, I stepped from the frigid water, shivering against the cold air and the shock of his touch. He led me to a bench where an
attendant waited with a heavy pair of shears.
The blades were dull and pulled more of my hair than they
seemed to cut, but at last, I was shorn, with an inch or two of ragged curls remaining. The Ophan led me naked down another corridor
where cells with bars instead of walls revealed a dozen women in each
cramped cubicle, some lying on the floor, others rocking themselves
while they sat staring at nothing.
At the end of the hall, another guard thrust a clean gown at me
before unlocking a pair of heavy double doors and ushering me into
the relative brightness of a large room with windows. I pulled the
gown over my head, and before I had the garment all the way on I
was bustled forward through another set of doors by two Ophanim. A
THE FALLEN QUEEN 229
white glaze of sunlight blinded me. My guards led me over the damp
stones of the courtyard to my transport, and while my eyes adjusted, I was unable to take advantage of the opportunity to run.
Upon entering the palace that had been my home for seventeen
years, the memory of blood on our polished tiles assaulted me. I
recoiled, and the Ophanim pressed me onward. Another scene I’d
imagined so vividly—another family being led to a room where they
too would litter the floor with spattered blood and viscera—slammed
into me with the weight of the Samudran Sea. I stood paralyzed with
fear, and the Ophanim took hold of me and dragged me up the grand
staircase with my legs and feet limp beneath me. They took me to a
room that had belonged to one of my ladies in waiting, deposited me
on the floor, and locked me in.
I sat on the rug, dazed and uncertain what any of this meant.
Fresh clothing and a towel lay folded on the wooden camp bed, and a
brush and mirror lay on the little table beside it. Over a small window looking out onto a narrow courtyard bounded by walls, iron bars had
been erected.
I waited, but no one came to give me further instruction. The sun
set behind the tower across
the courtyard and the evening chill seeped in through the leaded glass. The clothing on the bed looked warmer
and softer than what I had on, and so I traded my prison gown for a
blue maid’s shift and pinafore. The dress was tight in the bust, but the waist had a tie in back with enough slack that I could wear it loosely.
I sat on the bed. Still no one came. I must have fallen against the
pillow in sleep, for the sun was climbing back into the sky when the
rasp of a key in the lock stirred me. I opened my eyes and sat up.
“Your Supernal Highness.” Belphagor gave a respectable bow for
an untrained demon. He looked smug in a long, cream silk smoking
jacket and a pair of pale linen pants over kidskin boots. “I’m glad
to see you’re well,” he said, though he was frowning slightly. “You
haven’t been eating enough. I’ve ordered the cook to bring you a real
breakfast.”
“You’ve ordered.”
“Her Supernal Majesty gives me leave to act under her name with
regard to the servants.”
230 JANE KINDRED
“The servants.” I gave him a level stare. “What a change of fortune,
Belphagor. You seem to be at the top of your game.”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I know you have no reason
to trust me, but what I said when we last spoke is true. I have gambled very, very poorly. Stupidly.” His bitterness surprised me. “Believe me, I’m just as much a prisoner as you are.”
“Really? Were you scrubbed for lice last night? Have you been
living with a bucket of your own waste beside you and a chain around
your ankle?”
Belphagor’s gaze rested on the sores where the manacle had
rubbed my flesh raw. “Your cell, Your Supernal Highness, was mine
when I first arrived here. It had no bucket then, and I was shackled to my own limbs.”
If he expected shock or sympathy from me, he wasn’t going to get
it.
“I’m not as strong as you, Anazakia. I couldn’t withstand the
deprivation. When the queen offered me a less painful method of
humiliation, I took it.”
I laughed. “How are you humiliated? By wearing priceless
garments and having free run of a palace with servants at your beck
and call?”
As if by the magic of the mention of them, two servants arrived
with a tray laden with food I hadn’t seen since my exile. I was too
hungry to shun it out of pride. I ate what I could of the poached eggs, baked ham, and soft bread with butter and honey, before I began to
feel queasy.
Belphagor stood by like a footman while I ate. When I began to
shake from the shock to my system, he poured a cup of tea and held it
for me. “It’s chamomile with ginger. It will help.”
I drank reluctantly. My stomach began to quiet somewhat, and I
turned my head away. When Belphagor set down the cup and pressed
his hand to my clammy forehead, I wrenched away from his touch.
“Anazakia,” he said quietly. “The baby. Is everything as it should
be?”
“How would I know how it should be?”
“You haven’t had any bleeding or pain?”
THE FALLEN QUEEN 231
“No.” I crossed my hand over my belly in a protective gesture.
The baby, perhaps encouraged by the hearty meal, chose just then to
kick. As thin as I was, the movement made a visible ripple across my
stomach.
Belphagor’s eyes widened as if this were magic to him.
“It does that sometimes now. When my sister—” I closed my lips
tight on the words. I wasn’t about to have this discussion with him.
Belphagor nodded, satisfied. “I’ll let you sleep. You need to get
your strength up.” He opened a small door in the sloping wall beneath
the attic stairs. “There’s a proper chamber pot in here. The staff will freshen it twice a day.” He turned to leave.
“Belphagor.”
He paused without glancing at me.
“What am I doing here?”
“The queen owed me a favor,” he said and went out and locked
the door.
§
The routine in this prison was little different from the other,
beyond the increased frequency of attention to my physical needs.
Real food arrived three times a day—with a full tea for the midday
meal and an occasional glass of wine—and once a week, I was allowed
a hot bath. I was glad of the food and other comforts, but wondered
what price I might pay for them.
Belphagor visited me again after a few weeks, bringing clothing
gathered from our former wardrobes. I hadn’t seen such things since
my flight from Heaven, and was shocked at the splendor of what
had once been everyday fashion to me. A host of memories flooded
through me at the scent and touch of the silks and satins.
“I thought you could use something else to wear. I didn’t know
which were yours so I took some from each wardrobe.” He laid
garments out on the bed beside me, holding a few others over his arm.
“I found a few made to accommodate your condition.”
I stroked the soft layers of the clothes he laid across my lap. These
were Ola’s, things she’d kept at the palace when she visited. “My sister was pregnant.”
“She had a baby?” It was the sort of stupid, obvious question
232 JANE KINDRED
one might ask when making nervous conversation, but it was a more
significant distinction than he knew.
“No,” I answered without emotion. “Her husband cut it out of her
with a sword.”
Belphagor was silent for a moment, and then reached to take the
dresses back. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I’ll take these
away.”
“No.” I held the garments to my chest. “I want these. Thank you.”
He nodded. “If you’ll tell me your shoe size, I’ll have someone
bring shoes and stockings.” I told him and then asked for knee socks
since a garter belt would no longer fit.
“Why did you bring the clothes?” I asked when he turned to go.
“Why not send the servants with them?”
Belphagor sighed. “I wanted to see you, Anazakia. I’d come every
day if she allowed it.”
“Why?”
“Why?” He closed the door and leaned against it. “Because
despite our current circumstances, despite what you think of me now,
I have grown very fond of you over the time of our association. I care a great deal about your welfare, Your Supernal Highness.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand what you’re doing in this
palace, Belphagor. Why Aeval gives you such liberties.”
“And I hope you never do.”
§
After the promised slippers and socks were delivered, I wore
them with one of Ola’s dresses: a cream silk and chiffon with delicate mint embroidery on the bodice. I remembered her working on the
gown while the four of us sat and stitched together. Ola was taller
than I—she favored our mother, while I favored our father—and the
dress dragged on the ground, but as I had nowhere to go, this hardly
seemed to matter.
Belphagor, however, soon arranged that I should have some
exercise when the queen was away. On these occasions, two Ophanim
&nb
sp; followed me about the gardens on a daily constitutional. The
flowerbeds were already in full bloom; spring had nearly come and
gone.
THE FALLEN QUEEN 233
While admiring the roses one afternoon, I placed my hand
on my rounded belly at the baby’s kick and realized I didn’t know
when it was due. I’d given it no thought, preoccupied by the fact of
my imprisonment. I tried to remember when I’d last bled. Certainly
before the solstice when Knud had come to the dacha, perhaps weeks
before then.
Overcome with homesickness, I settled on a stone bench among
the roses. I laughed at the irony of feeling homesick for a Russian
dacha in the frozen north of the world of Man while sitting in the very garden where I’d spent the springtime of my childhood. But I missed
our nights reading and playing Knud’s word games by the fire. With a
sharp, unexpected wave of desire, I longed for Vasily’s hands upon me.
“What are you doing in Our garden?”
The indignant voice extinguished my desire instantly. I looked up
to see my Cousin Kae standing on the stone path, and froze.
He marched toward me with authority in long, black boots
beneath a splendid black frock coat. “Who are you?”
I stared at him, speechless with shock. I had imagined many
scenarios for my confrontation with him, but never this.
One of my Ophanim escorts spoke for me. “If you please, Your
Supernal Majesty, she is the Grand Duchess Anazakia Helisonovna of
the House of Arkhangel’sk.”
It was Kae’s turn to stare, mouth agape. He shook his head. “This
is not the grand duchess. She’s in some earthly monastery. She’s mad.”
“Her Supernal Majesty discovered Her Supernal Highness hiding
in Raqia. She has been remanded to our custody.”
Kae eyed the Ophan intently, perhaps wondering whether he was
the butt of some joke of poor taste, and then studied me again. His
eyes showed no recognition, only deep unease. “We will sit here with
Our cousin. You are dismissed.”
The Ophan hesitated. “Her Supernal Majesty has forbidden us to
leave the prisoner unguarded.”
Kae whipped his arm toward the other end of the garden. “Then
go sniff the damned flowers and guard from over there! That is an
order!”
The Ophanim bowed and retreated. Kae, as threatened, sat
234 JANE KINDRED
