by Jane Kindred
I squeezed his hand. “My cousin explained to me about that as
well.”
Belphagor was silent for a moment. “Promise me something.
Promise me you won’t tell Vasya what I was.”
I took the damp cloth beside him and dabbed at a gash on his
forehead. “And what was that?”
“Aeval’s suka,” he spat.
“No. You were a prisoner of war, valiantly protecting the honor of
your queen.”
“My queen?” He yanked his hand away. “Aeval was not my queen.
I was not protecting her honor.”
“Belphagor.” I caught his hand again despite his resistance. “I am the rightful queen of Heaven.”
THE FALLEN QUEEN 307
When he drifted off to sleep, I left him and went downstairs to find
Vasily standing by the fireplace with Ola in his arms, a rapt expression on his face. He looked up at me, and I feared what I’d see in his eyes.
“I had to go through with the pregnancy,” I blurted before he
could speak. “I was imprisoned.”
Vasily handed Ola to Love beside him and crossed the room. “It’s
a little crowded in here,” he said. “The rain’s let up. Let’s talk in the garden.”
We went outside and passed through crowds of milling Nephilim
who’d overflowed the capacity of the dacha.
“How many are there?” I asked.
“We lost about fifty. Not including Knud.” He pressed my hand,
and we shared a silent communication. “So I’d say minus the ten who
went into town to get food for all of them to eat, there must be about one hundred and forty.”
“You got two hundred exiled demons to join you in an assault on
Heaven? How did you manage to arrange this?” We went around to
the little side garden where a few green sprigs were actually growing.
The spot was cool and empty beneath the poplar trees.
“According to the Grigori chieftain,” said Vasily, “two hundred
is a mere drop in the pool of their numbers. Knud engaged Love to
find them for us. She specializes in information. All on computers, so don’t ask me to explain any of it. She found two hundred people who
believed in Belphagor.” He dried off the painted iron stool with his
sleeve and sat looking up at me. “And then I told them about you. I
told them about the mother of my child.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to have the baby. I thought you
were angry.”
Vasily pulled me onto his lap. “I lost my head. I’m so sorry about
that afternoon, Nazkia. The moment you disappeared, I wanted to
take back every word I’d said. And I sent you straight into the arms of the ones we were supposed to be hiding you from. I failed miserably
at the one thing that was so important.”
“You didn’t send me back,” I explained. “It was the callstone.
Helga used the charm to call Belphagor, but it was in my pocket. She
threw me out in the rain when she learned I was pregnant with your
308 JANE KINDRED
child, and the Ophanim found me.” I left out that I’d let the Ophanim
take me out of a misguided desire to keep him safe.
Fire burned within Vasily’s pupils at the idea of someone hurting
me.
“I love that,” I whispered, leaning against his chest, careful of his
bandaged shoulder. “I love seeing that in your eyes and knowing it’s
for me.”
Vasily lifted my head and kissed me, and the electric energy we
made when we came together flickered over us, coiling between us
on our tongues. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the warm wood-
smoke taste of him and in the strength of his embrace, the whisper of
our radiance dancing over my skin all the way to my toes—and into
deeper places. When he finally pulled back, I let go reluctantly.
“Listen,” he said. “I want you to know I’ll always be here for you
and Ola. I can’t even describe how I felt when Love put her in my
arms. I’ve never felt anything like that. I’ve never seen anything like her. I can’t believe I’m her father.”
“But you don’t love me. I know, Vasily. It’s all right.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I don’t know what the
right words are. Right now, I love the hell out of you for being the
mother of my child. And you’re only back a few minutes, and I can’t
stop thinking of every curve of your body, every nook and slope of
your skin, how every inch of you tastes.” He put his hands around my
corseted waist and ran them up to where the bone stays were snug
beneath my breasts. “And there are new curves,” he said with a grin.
“And I want to rip this off you.”
I breathed in sharply, unintentionally accentuating the curves,
warm in all the places he’d not yet touched.
“But what I feel for Belphagor,” he said quietly, “I can’t even
explain to you.”
“I know, Vasily. I do.”
“I spoke to him about what happened. He said he was shocked at
first, and a little hurt. But he loves you. As I do, Nazkia, truly. You’re our family. And he said he understands that a man can’t go against his nature, against his desires, and still be a whole man.”
My heart ached at this, knowing what it really meant, and what I
THE FALLEN QUEEN 309
couldn’t explain to Vasily.
“What I’m saying is that I don’t want to give you up—for whatever
that’s worth. Beyond the fact that I’m completely selfish.” He smiled
and lowered his eyes.
“Just think how he could punish you every time you give in to
those selfish desires,” I offered. I felt his response to this beneath my thighs.
“You might have something there.”
At a noise on the garden path, we looked up to see Love bringing
Ola.
“I think someone’s hungry.” Love smiled and brought the fussing
baby to me before slipping away again.
Vasily yielded the seat to me, and I unlaced my bodice and began
nursing Ola there in the garden without a second thought. While my
mother had shielded us from much of the unpleasant details of life,
she had never behaved self-consciously about feeding Azel when he
was an infant.
Vasily stared in fascination. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve never seen
anyone… this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Not to mention
other improper thoughts I’m having.”
I laughed and pulled his hand down to cup my other swollen
breast through the bodice while Ola was blissfully feeding. “They’re
useful for more than one thing,” I said with a wink.
He caressed me almost shyly, and then watched a moment longer,
clearly entranced by Ola.
I remembered then what Knud had asked me to tell him. “Knud
said something to me, but it didn’t make sense. I don’t know if he knew what he was saying by then, he’d lost so much blood. He said to tell
you to forget about your mother. Does that mean anything to you?”
Vasily looked chagrined. “I told him I overreacted about the baby
because of my mother. The way she left me.” His expression was a
painful mixture of sorrow, anger, and shame. “But that had nothing to
do with you. Again, I’m sorry.”
I thought of the conversation
with Helga. “What do you know
about your mother?”
“Only that she was a demon whore who left her suckling brat at
310 JANE KINDRED
the first opportunity.” Ola kicked a foot out of her blankets and he
held it gently. “Though Knud did give me some perspective on that.
He told me not to judge her so harshly. I suppose I have.”
“Her name was Ysael,” I said.
He looked up from playing with Ola’s toes. “Her… what? How
do you know?”
“Helga told me. She knew your mother. Helga doesn’t think much
of you because, as she put it, you’re polovina-d’yavol. ”
“Half-devil? Why in Heaven would she think that?”
“Your mother was Grand Duchess Ysael of the House of Arcadia.”
Vasily dropped Ola’s foot and she made a noise of complaint.
“She was disowned by her family after becoming pregnant with a
demon’s child.” I wondered how much more I ought to say. To know
she hadn’t thrown him away would mean so much to him, but I didn’t
want to hurt him with the knowledge of how she’d been abused.
“So she was ashamed of me.” He nodded slowly. “I suppose
Arcadia took her back once she’d done the sensible thing and disposed
of me.”
“She killed herself, Vasily,” I said softly. “She had nowhere to go,
and the Fallen wouldn’t help her. I don’t think she wanted to leave
you.”
He looked stricken. I’d made a mistake telling him this. I’d only
caused him more pain.
“I shouldn’t have spoken. I’m sorry, Vasily. I’ve done the wrong
thing.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, I just thought… All these years, I’ve
hated her so. I believed I was worthless.” He bent and lifted my chin.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Always my angel of mercy.” He kissed
me and stroked his thumb along my cheek with a flicker of radiance.
“You were never worthless,” I said with feeling when he released me. “Even discounting what you are to me, I’ve seen how Belphagor
looks at you. You’re his most prized possession. And he’s a man who
knows the worth of things.”
Vasily laughed, though I could see my words had moved him. “He
does, doesn’t he?” He sighed and touched his fingertips to the ruby-
gold down of Ola’s hair as if afraid he might break her. “I’ll let you
THE FALLEN QUEEN 311
nurse her in peace for a while.” He leaned down to kiss me once more.
I watched him go, reluctant to relinquish the elemental stirring his
touch sparked in me, but pleased at the new pride in his step. Though
I couldn’t be what Belphagor was to him, I’d given him something
the demon could not. I kissed the top of Ola’s head. Whatever bond
I had with Vasily, I was on the outside of a relationship so intense
I could only admire it from afar, like the Aurora Borealis. It left an emptiness inside me, a longing for that sense of wholeness they had
in one another.
Still, Vasily was right; they were family to me now. They were
home, where I’d never hoped to find one again in any world. To be
welcome even on the periphery of what seemed a nearly sacred union
was humbling. I believed Vasily when he promised I would never be
alone.
Ola began to fuss, and I switched her to my other breast. I gazed
up at the shimmering poplars around me. Fluffs of pukh traveled on the breeze like fairies gracing us. The sun, whatever time it marked,
was high and white in the glowing midsummer sky.
Something moved in the breeze among the leaves, and then I saw
them: the summer syla, the ones the snegurochki had called mavki, shimmering into focus and dancing around me in their red sheaths. I
didn’t know if they were the same ones I’d seen before; they had the
similarity of trees among a grove.
They came to me shyly. “We come to see the queen,” said the
spokeswoman among them, and they curtsied low.
Another came forward with a garland of red berries and I lowered
my head, but she placed it instead on Ola.
“We wait long for the queen.” Another syla brought a plainer
garland of herbs and heather and placed it on my head. They curtsied
to us both, then linked hands and danced about us with their leafy,
fluttering motions, as though the reflected midsummer light made
them wink in and out of the visible range.
“The Fallen Queen shall take the flower of the fern,” said the first,
and the others took up the chant, their voices a whispering wind in
the trees.
I put my hand to my chest where the locket had hung. “I lost the
312 JANE KINDRED
flower.” It pained me to say it.
“The queen takes the flower to Heaven,” said the syla.
“Yes, I took it there, but someone else has it,” I tried to explain. “I can’t get it back.”
There was a rustle of noise, and they splashed erratically in the
light; I seemed to have caused a flurry. “The Fallen Queen shall return to Heaven,” said the syla, and the others nodded.
The thought of returning filled me with despair. “I can’t go back.
I’m sorry.”
After another rustling discussion among the syla, the first turned
to me again. “The syla speak the old wood tongue. We mistake,
perhaps. The syla do not tell the queen to return, we tell what syla see.
Padshaya Korolyeva shall return to Heaven.” She ruffled Ola’s hair with the elusive touch of the wind. “We see Little Queen in a sea of
white. And Little Queen shall take the flower of the fern.” She smiled at me. “One day.”
I held Ola close and pressed my lips to her soft hair, wishing I
could protect her from whatever they’d envisioned. The syla fluttered
into a tiny whirlwind of leaves that scattered over the garden and went still.
I returned inside with Ola and watched the Nephilim and Grigori
preparing a feast with the food and drinks from the trip to town. It was Tvorila Night, I realized, the eve of Ivan Kupala, and there would be
celebrations here in Arkhangel’sk Oblast that lasted into the night—
such night as there was.
Vasily passed out cigars lit on the tip of his tongue and shared
vigorous toasts over a bottle of vodka with a group of demons who
cheered his prowess in engendering Ola. I laughed at that. His part
had been an instant of sated desire. But I didn’t mind their traditions.
I knew what I’d done to bring Ola into this world, and if the words of the syla were true, she would do great things one day. I wanted to keep her safe, but we were the last of the House of Arkhangel’sk, and we
would never be safe by remaining hidden away in the world of Man.
Though I wanted to deny it, I knew the syla were right. Heaven
was my birthright, and my responsibility. I turned the ring on my
finger and watched the blue stone revolve with my thoughts. I’d told
THE FALLEN QUEEN 313
Belphagor I was the true queen of Heaven, and there would come a
time when I’d have to defend it. But not now. Not now. Heaven was no
more ready for me than I was for it. I was content to be an exile.
I marveled again at the number of warriors who had come when
Belphagor needed help, and who had risked�
��and some given—their
lives to bring us home. I knew it hadn’t been their only goal. Aeval’s rule had threatened to encroach on the world of Man, and they were
prepared to defend the independence of the terrestrial Fallen realm
no matter who ruled Heaven. But she’d made a wreckage of Elysium
in her short reign, and there was no telling what powers would arise
in Heaven when the ashes settled. The only certainty was that the
supernal age had ended.
For now, I was content to be the mother of the last grand duchess
of the Supernal House of Arkhangel’sk. I was Padshaya Korolyeva, exiled heir to the throne of Heaven. I was the demons’ Fallen Queen.
314 JANE KINDRED
Epilogue
Without her, he was nothing.
While the rabble pressed in through the gilded doors, Kae bent his
head over the still form of the queen and kissed her lips, the delicate sculpting of a priceless work of art, lifeless and perfect. His heart ached at the cool touch of her skin, and he didn’t know why. He felt broken.
But she stirred beneath him, her breath quickening, and the prickling
unease in his chest began to subside. His heart had been beating too
rapidly, like the heart of bird, and as she revived, his circulation slowed.
Now her lips delivered solace. Yes. He needed this. Only this. Her kiss was like the snow, pure and sublime.
When the demons broke through and descended on him, he fell
onto his knees, and the queen tumbled from his arms. While Aeval
roused, the mob came close to tearing him limb from limb. He was the
Arkhangel’sk, the object of their ire, and for the moment, his queen
was inconsequential.
He put up no resistance as the demons spat on him and kicked
him. They ripped the cashmere robe from his back in ragged pieces
and tore fistfuls of hair from his head. It ought to hurt, he supposed, staring at a bloody clump of his own locks in the hand of a triumphant peasant.
Dimly, he heard Aeval shouting, but the words held no meaning.
The flash of metal momentarily deterred the mob from their intent,
his own sword, in Aeval’s hand. She grasped him by the locks they
didn’t have hold of and jerked him to his feet.
THE FALLEN QUEEN 315
“Defend your queen!” she bellowed, and dragged him back with
her into the corner. “Must I bleed you?” she hissed in his ear. She
grasped his hand and snicked the sword through the knuckle at the
