The Fallen Queen

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by Jane Kindred


  beside me. I edged away, filled with a confusing rush of horror, fear, and disgust—and an irrational urge to throw my arms around him in

  greeting as if nothing had happened, as if it were last spring and he was here for a visit.

  “I should remember you.” He looked puzzled. “You left me with

  my throat cut in a pool of my wife’s blood.”

  “I did not!” A surge of rage nearly propelled me to my feet, but sudden movements in my current state were difficult.

  He ignored my protest. “The demon has explained your state

  of madness. For which We must forgive you, though of course We

  cannot absolve you of your terrible crimes against the House of

  Arkhangel’sk.”

  “You forgive me?” I would have hurled myself at him, fists flying, had he not caught my wrists with an alarming grip. His hands were ice

  cold.

  “Do not tempt Our generosity,” he warned. “I understand now

  why my queen kept your presence from me. She is kindhearted and

  does not wish me to suffer reminders of the tragedy I survived. No

  doubt because of her kindness, she has taken you into our home to

  care for you in your madness, when by law, you should be executed.

  But do not think you can insult me or speak to me with disrespect

  and receive no correction.” He nodded toward the Ophanim who

  hovered at the garden’s perimeter. “They are not the only elementals

  who watch over the House of Arkhangel’sk. Our Seraphim can come

  at a word and render whatever correction is needed. Ask your demon

  friend what it is to be at their mercy and yet not burn.”

  I twisted my arms from his grip and rubbed at the red marks on

  my skin, fighting the urge to exact what vengeance I could here and

  now.

  Kae signaled to the Ophanim and stood. “We desire that you be

  brought to Our suite to have tea some afternoon soon. You may be

  mad and insolent, but as Our cousin, your welfare concerns Us.”

  My welfare again. Such interest these arrogant men who had

  destroyed me expressed in it.

  “No,” I said.

  “No?” This was clearly not a word he was used to hearing.

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  “I will not have tea with you. You’re the one who’s mad.”

  His eyes darkened with rage. Kae seized me at the shoulders and

  yanked me to my feet, just as Vasily had in our last moment together.

  The memory, and not this hollow Kae with his brutish threats, made

  tears spring to my eyes. Kae’s face blazed with the fury he was about to unleash on me, when the baby kicked, the motion visible with my belly

  now uncovered by my cloak. He stared transfixed at my rounded belly

  with a look of terror. When he lifted his eyes, another emotion rippled across his face, and for an instant, it was a Kae I recognized.

  He pulled me closer and pressed my straggling curls back from

  my face, looking for something in my eyes. “Ola?” he whispered. He

  shoved me away as if he’d touched a corpse, and fled.

  §

  When the Ophanim next came to escort me, it wasn’t to the garden,

  but to a room in the supernal suites that had once been my mother’s

  parlor. The sunny-colored settee and chairs that had decorated it, and the thick brocade curtains in shades of gold, were gone. The room was

  now a wintry-looking den of white and silver, everything in it soft and snowy.

  The queen sat before me on a plush divan, her draping gown in

  similar icy tones nearly eclipsing the piece of furniture. She sparkled like a table full of crystal. My eyes widened at the sight of her. I had been too preoccupied with the circumstances of our last meeting to

  recognize it then, but I had seen her before. She had been here in the palace at its last Equinox Gala.

  “Sit,” she said, and the Ophanim deposited me into a chair

  opposite her. She dismissed them and I was alone with her in her lair.

  She wasted no time on formalities. “You have upset the principality.

  His health is delicate since his ordeal a year ago, and he took you for his murdered wife.”

  “His ordeal?” I met her gaze with defiance. “We are both well

  aware of what happened, and it didn’t happen to him. Why not have

  the truth between us?”

  Her silver eyes flashed. “Very well. You insist on brutal honesty,

  Grand Duchess Anazakia? Then we shall play it your way. I didn’t

  intend to keep him after he did what I’d asked of him, but while I was

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  slitting his throat, it occurred to me his name might be legitimizing.

  And it did turn out to be an inspired idea. His people felt so sorry for him, left for dead among the bodies of his family.” She smiled. “And I, who nursed him back to health. How could they not love me? There

  was no need for the coup I’d planned. I was welcomed to Elysium with

  open arms.”

  “How did you do it?” I refused to give her the satisfaction of shock

  or grief. “How did you turn him? Is it even my cousin inside that body, or some shade you’ve taken him over with?”

  “You are obsessed with that quaint peasant magic.” She shook her

  head and sighed. “No, my dear. There is no one inside your cousin but

  himself. When I met him in the mountains, he came to me willingly.

  And he told you himself why he did my bidding. Because he would

  rule the Heavens. That is all a man needs to be offered.”

  The words sent a chill along my spine. Had she been there,

  watching from the shadows, while he killed for her?

  I struggled to hide my distress. “That’s absurd. He would have

  succeeded my father anyway. Azel would never have lived to

  adulthood.” It was horrible to acknowledge aloud, but I’d always

  known it.

  “Ah, but Kae would not have been principality. His son would

  have had that honor. He would have remained the grand duke,

  prince-consort to Queen Omeliea. For some men, that is simply too

  emasculating. It gave him a moment’s hesitation, I admit, when I told

  him what must be done, but he seemed to take to it once he began. My

  Kae is a man who keeps his promises.”

  “Not to my sister.”

  Aeval shrugged. “Promises made in the blush of youth, my

  dear.” She shifted her skirts, the sparkle of crystal sequins nearly

  mesmerizing in the afternoon light through the sheer curtain behind

  her. She smiled pleasantly. “Let us talk about your future. It’s no secret you are carrying another Arkhangel’sk.”

  The baby kicked as if acknowledging her, and I cupped my

  stomach with my hands.

  “Our Belphagor impressed upon Us the importance of your

  health. Not to mention how it might appear for the mad, murderess

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  cousin of the principality to give birth on a stone floor like a broodmare.

  We have given his counsel fair consideration and We believe the best

  course is as he suggests. You shall remain in the palace until the birth, after which you shall be put to death in accordance with celestial law.

  But rest assured, We shall raise your child as Our own. Perhaps one

  day she will rule the Heavens, and more.”

  I gripped the arms of the chair, intending to pull myself up in

  indignation, but with a belly the size of a small planet, the move had less finesse than I’d planned and I slipped back against the cushions
.

  “There’s no point in getting yourself worked up. The arrangement

  is more than generous, considering the child’s parentage.” Aeval

  reached forward and pressed her hand against my swollen belly. My

  supernal ring glinted on her finger. “What a marvel Our Belphagor is.

  I would never have guessed he had it in him.”

  Belphagor? My mouth opened in surprise, but she pressed her

  cool fingers against my lips and I couldn’t speak. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, my dear. He is a most exquisite lover.”

  §

  I stared from my barred window later, wondering if anything Aeval

  had said was true. It couldn’t be truth that Belphagor was her lover.

  But had he claimed parentage of Vasily’s child? Had he convinced

  the queen to take my baby from me? I could not see how this was in

  the interest of my welfare. If I was given leave to walk in the gardens again, I would make a run for it. I knew the nooks and passages of the Winter Palace better than anyone. Though it would slow me down, my

  condition might work in my favor. Even an Ophan must hesitate at

  causing injury to a pregnant woman.

  I began to plan my route, envisioning the rooms that opened onto

  the garden, calculating the probability of ophanic presence in various sections of the palace. I remembered the path I’d taken dozens of

  times to sneak out for mischief in my carefree days. If I could make it to The Brimstone, perhaps I could use the same portal through which

  I’d last entered the world of Man.

  And then it occurred to me. Ophanim weren’t outside my door

  every time it opened. They were usually there in the mornings when

  breakfast arrived, and their pale glow showed under the door in the

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  evenings when I went to bed. At teatime and dinner, however, and

  when the chambermaid came to clean, I couldn’t recall seeing them

  there consistently. I kept watch until I was certain of the times their presence wasn’t deemed necessary. When the chambermaid came in

  the afternoons to bring fresh water, the hallway was almost always

  empty.

  I knew I had little time before the birth. When the next opportunity

  came during the queen’s absence, I took it.

  §

  I waited until the chambermaid closed the door and set the full

  pitcher on the stand before I pounced. Flinging a sheet over her

  head, I twisted her in it, and pushed her to the ground. She yelped in surprise, but the sheet muffled the sound, and I believe I dazed her

  when I knocked her down.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Rolling her onto her stomach, I sat on

  her legs to bind her wrists with a sash from one of Ola’s gowns. When I pulled the sheet from her head, she gasped, and stared at me as if she’d finally seen the madness she’d been warned of.

  “Please miss. I’ve done you no harm. I don’t want to die.”

  “You’re not going to die. But you must be quiet.” Forcing her

  cleaning cloth into her mouth while she wept, I tied it in place with

  another sash knotted tightly at the back of her head, and then tied her ankles with a pair of knee socks before I took the key from her apron

  pocket. “I’m sorry to treat you unkindly. You’ve always been kind to

  me. But my child will not be born in this place.”

  I pulled the door open a crack. Finding the hall empty, I slipped out

  and locked the door. I took off my slippers and ran swiftly and quietly through the unoccupied rooms in this corner of the palace. I couldn’t

  hope to escape down the main staircase or any of the smaller ones

  that led to the interior; the ground floor was crawling with servants

  and Ophanim. Among the family suites, a private staircase led to the

  western garden. This was my only hope. It would be guarded, but not

  as heavily as the main entrance or those that led onto the square.

  I slipped down the corridors and past the grand staircase, where

  the Ophanim had their backs turned to guard the entrance, and ran

  through the long gallery unnoticed into the rotunda. From there,

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  I stepped into my father’s library and grabbed an iron poker from

  the fireplace before creeping out into the main corridor of the family suites. The hall was empty. It was early afternoon, and with the queen gone, I could safely pass the rooms she occupied. Whether anyone was

  about in the suites between remained to be seen.

  I passed the schoolroom and the nursery where Azel had still slept

  at the age of twelve, trying not to think of his body in the bed where Helga found him. On the other side of the hall were the two rooms my

  sisters and I shared. Maia and I in the first, and Tatia and Ola in the larger one beside it, until Ola had married.

  I’d been lucky until now, but the second door opened before

  I passed it and a pair of Ophanim stood before me. I dropped my

  slippers and with the poker clutched in both hands, I swung at the

  first Ophan with all my might. But the firespirit was too swift, and it grasped the poker before it struck and swung me with it to the ground.

  I let go and broke my fall with my hands and knees, protecting my

  belly. A pair of long, black boots appeared before me that did not

  belong to the Ophan.

  “Cousin.” Kae’s voice had a pleasant lift of surprise. He helped me

  to my feet. “Her Supernal Highness will stay for tea,” he said to the

  startled Ophanim, and led me into his apartment.

  Belphagor looked up from a chair beside the fireplace where a

  makeshift wingcasting table was laid out with cards and clay chips

  standing in for crystal facets. Had I not been shaking so hard and out of breath, I would have burst into bitter laughter.

  “We’ve just had a late tea brought in.” Kae led me to a couch

  before a table laden with a four-tiered silver tea service. “I was so

  hoping to have an opportunity to chat with you.”

  I sat, dazed by the surreal quality of this meeting, and smarting

  from my dashed hopes. My cousin served me tea as if I were visiting at Camaeline, and I accepted it mutely.

  Kae returned to his game, and I cast an anxious gaze at the long

  window that opened onto the garden. If only I could escape that way,

  but I remembered this room. There wasn’t so much as a tall tree to

  climb down within ten feet of the veranda, and even if there had been, I was absurdly pregnant. Resigned to defeat, I spread clotted cream

  240 JANE KINDRED

  and lingonberry jam on a scone. There was no hurry now. It didn’t

  matter if the maid was discovered. The Ophanim already knew I was

  here.

  “Don’t let me interrupt your game,” I said to Belphagor. “I’m sure

  you’ve played every hand to your advantage.”

  “Not quite, Your Supernal Highness.”

  Kae sat across from him at the wingcasting table, and I was struck

  by the peculiar juxtaposition of their coloring: Belphagor all in shades of palest cream, and Kae entirely in black. They might have been

  pieces on a chessboard. I watched them play while I had tea. Naturally, Belphagor was winning.

  When they finished the round, Kae shoved back his chair in anger.

  Belphagor took up the cards and began to shuffle. “I told you

  your cousin was a better player. Perhaps she should join us for a

  game. It adds a whole new level of excitement when one has multiple

 
opponents.”

  Kae smiled, his anger forgotten. “Yes, join us, Cousin.” He pulled

  another chair up to the table. “We can chat while we play.”

  “You can,” murmured Belphagor, already dealing out the cards.

  “But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  This occasion could not be more bizarre. I sat at the table with

  them, not quite able to draw up to it with my current circumference,

  and we began a round of wingcasting like a group of friendly nobles

  playing whist. Kae consistently relinquished the wrong cards when

  his cast was called, practically feeding Belphagor the ideal hand to

  beat him neatly. I wondered if the demon had stacked the deck, but

  I managed to “wing” Belphagor myself a number of times. It seemed

  Kae was simply not a strategic player. He took things too much at face value without considering his opponent might bluff.

  His losses, though only in symbolic chips, infuriated him. His

  emotions were those of a child, and a child who’d been overindulged.

  This wasn’t the Kae I’d known. Whatever lurked behind his eyes was

  without substance. If the man who’d been my friend and my sister’s

  devoted husband remained within that shell, he was well hidden.

  Kae peppered the game with odd conversation, further eroding

  his own concentration, though Belphagor and I barely spoke. He

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  asked where I planned to “summer” and how I found Elysium this

  time of year. Once again he seemed to have no idea who I was.

  After a particularly thorough trouncing during which both

  Belphagor and I nearly picked his hand clean and left him with a

  single card, Kae rose and upended the marble table. Belphagor and I

  managed to scoot back our chairs to avoid being struck, but I hadn’t

  expected the table to be heaved with such force. I tripped over my

  chair and nearly fell backward with it when it struck the floor.

  Immediately contrite, Kae reached out to steady me, then just

  as unexpectedly, placed his frigid hands over my belly. The baby had

  kicked and caught his attention. He stared at the round slope in his

  hands, and a startling heat rose in my womb where his cold palms

  rested. His eyes widened and he sprang back, regarding his hands in

  horror.

  “Whose blood is this?” he whispered. “Where is the baby?”

 

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