Queen of the Underworld

by Lee Savino

  As soon as they left the room, Cora’s shoulders slumped. She was exhausted. No matter how Marcus had tried to coax her to go home to get some rest, she’d refused to leave. She’d gotten a few hours sleep on a little cot they’d set up in the room, but not much.

  Now that Sharo was awake, though, he was insisting. She’d go home and get a full night’s rest.

  Her hand slid into his, fingers intertwining.

  “I love you, Marcus.” She paused in the middle of the hospital hallway and looked up at him. “Thank you for giving me this life. Thank you for everything. You know how much I love you? Can you even fathom it?”

  Marcus smiled down at her, the woman he loved more than life itself.

  He was about to leaned down to kiss her when her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head and she collapsed. He barely had time to catch her before she hit the ground.

  Forty-One

  All was dark and there were no stars.

  “Hello?” Cora called into the darkness.

  No one responded.

  Cora stretched her arms out and felt all around her. Nothing. There was nothing.

  “Marcus? Marcus?” Her voice was high-pitched, nearing on frantic. Where was she? Why couldn’t she see anything? She spun around but there was only more nothingness, until, arms outstretched, her hand finally ran into a brick wall.

  The air smelled sour and dank and that was when Cora knew.

  Mama had locked her in the cellar again.

  It had all been a dream. Marcus. New Olympus. None of it had ever been real.

  Marcus had never been real. He’d never loved her. He never would. Because he didn’t exist. None of it had. Olivia. Anna. Sharo. Armand. She’d made them all up in her head.

  How many days had she been down here? How long since she’d had food or water? How long since she’d slept?

  She’d experienced it before, the delirium that came with being confined in the solitary space for long stretches.

  She sank to her knees.

  She was alone.

  Unloved.

  Her mother had finally driven her mad.

  “Noooooo!” she cried, banging her fists on the earthen ground. “Please!” She didn’t know what she was begging for. Maybe for the earth to open and swallow her up whole.

  But then she froze. Because she heard something.

  She sat up and craned her ears.

  “Cora. Cora!”

  The sound was coming from so far away, Cora could barely hear it. But it was there. Either that, or it was an auditory hallucination.

  But she was so desperate, she didn’t care.

  “Hello?” She stumbled towards the sound. “Hello?”

  “Cora,” came the voice, louder this time. “Cora, baby, come back to me.”

  Marcus. It was Marcus’s voice.

  Cora started running towards it. She should have run into the back wall of the cellar but she didn’t. The darkness just went on and on and as she ran, it began to lighten. First to a dark gray and then…and then…

  Cora blinked her eyes open and winced at the painfully bright lights.

  “Cora!” Marcus’s blurry face loomed over hers. He was smiling and crying at the same time. She’d never seen Marcus cry in the entire time she’d known him.

  Wait. Was this real? Or was it just another hallucination?

  But when Marcus dropped his lips to hers, she decided she didn’t give a damn. She was staying.

  Forty-Two

  Cora had taken about ten years off Marcus’s life when she collapsed in the hospital hallway.

  But then she was blinking up at him, awake, only ten minutes later. And if she had to pass out, she couldn’t have picked a better place to do it.

  Nurses and doctors had immediately rushed to their aid and gotten her on a gurney and into a room.

  She was dehydrated, something Marcus would never forgive himself for—he should have been making sure she’d drank more fluids while they watched over Sharo, especially after the traumatic events of the days beforehand.

  The doctors had taken some blood and they were waiting on the results. Marcus had never been a praying man but he prayed now, to every god he knew and even those he didn’t, that the bloodwork would come back fine and nothing was wrong with her.

  They’d been waiting for what felt like hours even though he’d threatened the doctor to prioritize Cora’s bloodwork with his most menacing face. In reality, it was only a little over 45 minutes before the doctor came pushing through the door.

  Marcus leapt to his feet. The doctor was carrying a folder and he was smiling. Smiling had to mean good news, right? If it didn’t, Marcus would do more than smash this guy’s face in.

  “What is it?” Marcus demanded. “Tell us.”

  “Marcus.” Cora squeezed his hand gently. “Give the man a chance to take a breath.”

  Marcus looked down at his wife in the hospital bed. She was too pale for his liking. And ever since she woke up, she kept asking him if he was real and clutching his hand like he would disappear if she let go even for a second.

  “Other than the slight dehydration issue, you are in wonderful health,” the doctor said to Cora, avoiding Marcus’s gaze and walking to the other side of her bed.

  “And I have good news.” Cora frowned up at him but then he continued, “You’re pregnant!”

  “What?” both Cora and Marcus said at the same time.

  Cora gasped and stared at the doctor in shock. Then she looked up at Marcus with a tremulous smile on her face. She clasped his hand even tighter as she blinked rapidly. “I guess, I mean— I forgot to re-up my birth control shot because—”

  Because they’d been separated.

  Cora shook her head and let out a little laugh. “And then I didn’t even think about it but I should have gotten my period three weeks ago. Everything has just been so nuts preparing for the fundraiser and everything else.” She broke off with another laugh.

  But Marcus wasn’t laughing. He looked at the doctor. “So how far along is she?”

  “When was the date of your last period?” the doctor asked Cora.

  She was still shaking her head in wonder, and then her eyes went to the ceiling as she calculated. “Um, about six weeks ago? Maybe seven? The second week of last month, I think.”

  Marcus did the math in his head. He wasn’t that well-versed in women’s reproductive health but he’d had a woman once try to falsely claim he’d fathered her child and had learned a little about it. If her last period was seven weeks ago, that meant the baby had been conceived five weeks ago…right around the time they’d first gotten back together and first had sex.

  But if she was off, even by a little bit… They’d been separated for months. She’d left him and he never asked if there was any one else during that time.

  Frankly, he hadn’t wanted to know. Okay, that was a lie. He had wanted to know, with a vengeance, but he also knew himself too well. If any other man had touched Cora, whether she welcomed it or not, that man would not remain breathing for long after Marcus discovered his name.

  But now there was a child…

  His jaw locked and he could hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. There was a child. No matter what, the child was half Cora’s. And anything that was half of her, he would love until his dying breath.

  He reached down and retook her hand. “I will love this child as my own, no matter what.”

  Cora blinked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean? It is your child.” Then understanding seemed to dawn on her. And she threw his hand away. “I didn’t sleep with anyone else while we were separated. Did you?” Her eyes spit fire and color flushed back into her previously pale cheeks. “So help me, if you so much as—”

  Marcus roared with laughter and then sat down on the bed, pulling her into his arms. “No. Never. Never anyone but you.”

  He kissed her hard. At first she was unresponsive but then her lips softened and she gave in to him. His sweet Cora. His powerful, b
all-busting Queen.

  He pulled back from her and pressed his forehead to hers. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered.

  Her big blue eyes blinked up at him, wide with astonishment. Her hand slid between them to her stomach. “A baby,” she said in awe. “Your baby.”

  “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I love you. Forever.” The words were an understatement. They always would be.

  But he would spend the rest of his life proving them to his wife. His beloved. His Queen.

  Epilogue

  Three years later…

  Cora knew the moment her husband entered the ballroom. Her spine prickled. Behind her, close to the door, the murmuring crowd quieted.

  “Incoming, twelve o’clock,” Armand waggled his brows at her. Cora pivoted in her gold dress and instantly picked Marcus out. He was suave and knee-weakeningly handsome in his tux.

  “No costume?” Armand pouted, putting a fake-monocle to his eye. Cora swatted his arm.

  “He wouldn’t wear it. But does he even need one?”

  Marcus had caught sight of her. His stubbled jaw creased into a smile. Mmm, five-o’clock shadow, her favorite. He had been working a lot lately, and hadn’t had time to shave before the ball. He’d make it up to her later with the burn of his beard against her thighs…

  Pressing two fingers to his lips, Marcus blew her a kiss.

  “Damn. He makes an entrance.” Armand dropped his monocle.

  “I know,” Cora murmured.

  “I was talking about Waters.”

  “Oh.” The big shipping tycoon had just wandered in with a group of giggling women in skimpy sea foam green costumes.

  “Water nymphs. Very, very clever,” Armand admired their costumes. “Shall we go greet your husband?”

  “I think not,” Cora said. “Let him placate his supplicants.” As usual, Marcus was surrounded by people wanting to shake his hand and whisper in his ear.

  “You make him sound like he’s an emperor,” Armand lifted a critical brow. “What does that make you?”

  “A goddess.” Cora smiled into her drink. “Leave Marcus alone. He’ll come to me.”

  “Of course he will. You two are glued to the hip. Or...other parts.” He cast a pointed glance at her rounded belly.

  “Armand!” She put a hand to her baby bump.

  “Aaaand you’re blushing. I still got it.”

  “You’re worse than Olivia.” Cora pretended to look prim.

  “Thank you. What number is this?” Armand hovered his hand over her belly. “Two of ten? Eleven?”

  “Two of two, thank you very much. We wanted a boy and a girl.”

  “You already have little Vito, so that makes this one…”

  “A girl.” Cora’s flushed skin seemed to glow. “We found out last week.”

  “Mrs. Ubeli!”

  Both Cora and Armand turned to greet a gray-haired man in a white coat.

  “Dr. Laurel,” the man reminded them, raising bushy eyebrows that’d make Einstein jealous. “We met at the last gala. I can’t tell you how grateful we are for all your charity. We’re on the brink of a breakthrough.”

  “Dr. Laurel,” Cora murmured, letting him pump her hand. “Of course I remember.”

  A willowy young woman in a white toga and a headband of green leaves hovered at the Dr.’s elbow until he dragged her forward. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Daphne.”

  “Hello.” Daphne gave a shy little wave, laughing when Armand executed a bow.

  “Please to meet you, dear,” Cora said. The girl was a beauty with olive skin and almond shaped green eyes. She looked barely out of high school. “Are you in college?”

  Daphne flushed as her dad guffawed. “College? My girl graduated already. On track for a Ph.D. Genius. Takes after her mother.”

  “And you as well, Dr. Laurel, I’m sure.” Cora smiled gently at the young woman. “Would you mind spinning around and showing us your costume? Let me guess what you are.”

  With a graceful nod, Daphne spun on her heel,

  “Her specialty is biochemistry,” Dr. Laurel was telling Armand. “Her research is already making waves. Youngest recipient of the Avicennius grant.”

  “Very impressive,” Armand said.

  “She didn’t want to come,” her father announced. “But she’s spent too much time cooped up behind a microscope. You’re still young.” He waggled a finger at his daughter.

  “You look beautiful,” Cora told Daphne. “I’m still trying to guess what you are. White robes and a wreath on your head?”

  “I’m an ancient Olympic athlete,” Daphne explained. “A winner. These are my laurels.”

  “Clever,” Armand said and Daphne blushed further.

  “You can’t be an Olympic athlete,” a deep voice interrupted. A tall, dark-haired man stepped between Daphne and everyone else. “Olympic athletes performed naked.”

  “Oh my,” Armand raised his fake monocle to his eye and peered at the newcomer. “Hello there.”

  “Logan, stop being such a stuffed shirt,” Dr. Laurel chided with a grin. “Mrs. Ubeli, may I introduce Dr. Logan Wulfe, unparalleled medical researcher and apparently an expert on ancient sports customs.”

  “Not an expert,” Dr. Wulfe said. His face was stern but there was a mischievous tilt to his lips. His fingers traced the edge of Daphne’s laurel leaves. “You could be Daphne, chased by Apollo, who turned into a laurel tree.”

  “That’s a sad story,” Daphne said, a bit breathlessly. She gazed up at Logan Wulfe as if he was a god come to life.

  And no wonder. With his height, dark hair, and raw-boned features, he wasn’t handsome but overwhelmingly masculine. Perfect to play the part of a brooding gothic hero. Daphne wasn’t the only one under his spell. Armand didn’t rip his gaze away until Cora elbowed him in the ribs. Everyone looked at him when he sputtered.

  “She could be a military conqueror,” Armand covered smoothly. “The Romans stole the practice of crowning winners with laurels, and gave wreaths to their successful generals.”

  “That fits,” Logan nodded to Daphne, who looked like she might faint with happiness. She had hearts in her eyes.

  “Do you want to dance?” she asked and a shadow fell over the tall man’s face.

  “I don’t dance. Not even for you.”

  “I’ll dance with you.”

  The shadows on Logan’s face deepened as a model-handsome blond broke into the circle.

  “Here’s my other star student. Adam Archer, of Archer Industries,” Dr. Laurel babbled as the blond and Logan glared at each other. “His partnership has been essential to the success of our company.”

  “Happy to be of service.” Adam flashed a toothpaste smile to everyone but Logan. “Daphne, shall we?”

  The young woman put her hand in his outstretched one, letting him lead her away. But as the song began, her eyes drifted back to Logan.

  “Excuse me,” Logan muttered, pushing a hand through his thick hair before walking off.

  “Forgive my protege’s rudeness,” Dr. Laurel said to break the awkward silence. “Logan and Adam used to be like brothers, but recently had a…a falling out.”

  “Business or personal?” Armand asked, studying how Logan glared at Daphne and Adam on the dance floor.

  Dr. Laurel blinked. “Business, of course.”

  “A bitter rivalry. How delicious,” Armand murmured and Cora nudged him again. “Excuse me, I must go...see if I can offer comfort.” He and the doctor wandered off in Logan’s direction.

  A strong hand on Cora’s back made her turn.

  “Marcus,” she exclaimed. There were a few silver hairs at her husband’s temple but he was even more handsome than ever.

  “My love,” he dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Better, now you’re here.” Cora cupped his cheek. They exchanged what Olivia called an “ooey-gooey” look.

  “I got away as soon as I could. Waters has a new delivery
for us. Sharo’s overseeing it now.”

  “He’s not coming to the party?”

  “He says he’s too busy.” After Sharo recovered, he insisted on helping Cora secure her hold on Metropolis. He hunted out dissenters and put down any coups. With his responsibilities in two cities, he did nothing but work.

  Cora frowned. “He needs a girl.”

  “That’s what I told him. That cute little physical therapist he mentioned a few times. I could get the Shades to pick her up, deliver her to him…”

  “You are not going to kidnap Sharo a bride.”

  “Why not? Worked out well for me.” His hands slid over her hips, tugging her flush to him.

  “Marcus, not here, people will see…”

  “Like I care.” But he pulled her into a private alcove before claiming her mouth.

  “Marcus,” Cora gasped when he let her come up for air. “You’re mussing my hair.”

  “I’ll muss more than that.” With a shark’s grin he reached for her again. “I can’t get enough of you, woman.” But once he had her in his arms, he simply held her.

  Cora rubbed her chafe cheeks. Stubble burn. Perfect.

  “Just wait until your daughter gets here. She’s gonna have you wrapped around her little finger.”

  Marcus’s hands framed her belly.

  “Have you thought about a name?” he whispered huskily in her ear.

  “Of course. Chiara.”

  “You sure?”

  Cora turned to face her husband fully. “Are you okay with that?”

  “I am if you are.” He toyed with a strand of her hair.

  “Marcus,” she covered his hand. “What is it?”

  “I wanna name our daughter something good. Something happy and light. Untainted.”

  “Your sister was all those things.” Cora pressed her forehead against her husband’s. “My love, the past will always be with us. A part of us. The pain will never go away. But we are strong. We can remember the good and bring it with us. Let’s name our daughter after your beautiful sister, and remember Chiara the way she’d want.”