* * * *
“Gods! What is it?”
Elise looked upon the courtyard from the obscurity of her chamber window. From her higher vantage the courtyard was curving pathways formed by inlaid mosaic tiles. Gentle gardens of flowers and herbs grew between the pathways, and two couples strolled decorously through the castle’s maze with a lady’s chaperone walking close behind. Outside the maze a scarred and misshapen creature carefully trimmed a sour cherry tree. Gazing down on the creature, Elise was appalled. Though Yernden was often a land of disease and want, Elise had never before seen anyone so hideously scarred.
Despite royal decree, Pol Swordbreaker wrapped his arm protectively around Elise’s shoulders. He was tall, strong, and clean, everything Vere no longer represented. He smelled of assurance, and his sad eyes bled pity. Elise wanted to lean into his embrace, but the dignity of her station and upbringing would not allow it. She did, however, permit his arm to remain.
“It’s a spawn,” Pol said. “They are slaves to most of Hell’s creatures and abused by all. I’ve not seen one yet who doesn’t cringe even from a kind word. The things are so eager to please in order to avoid punishment they’ll do anything, no matter how low.” Tightening his arm around her, he sighed. “I’ve heard the king is replacing all the disappeared castle servants with spawn. They are stupid and slow but also obedient, and their upkeep is almost nothing.”
“But where do they come from?” Elise asked. Try as she would she could not tear her eyes from the misshapen thing. Its motions were clumsy and slow, but the results of its work were most precise. She thought it astonishing something so hideous could create such beauty.
“Your husband now worships Athos and Zorce,” Pol reminded her. “In payment, the gods of Hell have widened the second passageway from their realm to ours.”
Elise shuddered at the thought of another hellhole outside of the one in Yylse. Was this the one Calto had sought. Probably, which meant the king’s collusion went back months or even years.
She silently cursed. If Vere had listened to her council the Yylse hole would have been sealed beneath several tons of stone long ago. Unfortunately, he had not, and too many of her subjects had suffered because her husband played games. The thought of her husband and king actually bargaining with Hell for servants and influence at the cost of another opened hole was unbearable.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Pol whispered, tightening his arm about her even more. “I’ll protect you with my life.”
Remembering her position and dignity, Elise pulled Pol’s arm away. “My maid is dead, and we are alone. There must be no hint of impropriety.”
“Your chamber door is open,” Pol pointed out, but he stepped several paces away. “No one would dare accuse the queen of being improper when her chamber door is ajar.”
“I would,” a voice said from the doorway. Belsac strolled into the room, wearing an affable smile. The smile, however, went no further than his lips. His eyes were dark, flat orbs which studied Elise like he was deciding which herbs would best enhance her flavor. “Have I just caught you alone with another man? Your husband would be most interested. Pol Swordbreaker, leave.”
Elise felt her face turn pale at the cavalier way Belsac ordered people around within her chambers. Furious, she imagined what it would feel like to run a foot of steel through the advisor’s neck. Her hand twitched, wanting to reach for the sword she could not wear, aching for the reassuring touch of steal, but in this battle her only weapons were an iron will and words.
“Stay,” she ordered her friend, demanding his obedience with a long steady gaze.
Much to her amazement Pol slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have to go. He is the king’s advisor.”
“I am your queen,” she insisted, but one look at his pale face told her his bold words a few moments earlier were nothing but a sycophant’s lies. “I order you to stay.”
“He’ll kill me. At most, all you’ll give me are a few stripes. I‘m sorry, Milady.” After throwing her an apologetic glance, Pol hurried out, closing the chamber door behind him.
With him went a small chunk of Elise’s heart. She had lost yet one more person who claimed to be her friend. Firming her resolve until it became almost as powerful as her courage, she squared her shoulders and turned her attention back to the king’s advisor.
Ignoring her, Belsac ran a long finger along the gentle contours of the doorway’s molding. He studied his fingertip carefully, as if he were checking for mites or dust. Shaking his head, he looked back to Elise, wearing a slight frown.
“The king wants a divorce,” he said. “Forget Anothosia’s blessing. Claim another as the child’s father and we’ll let you live. In fact, we’ll give you gold equal to twice your dowry and a safe exile to any land you choose. You can even take Swordbreaker with you as your lover. Vere won’t complain. All he wants is to be free.”
“He’ll never be free so long as you ply him with your drugs!” Elise snapped.
Belsac shook his head sadly. “Helace is a very demanding woman. I’m afraid Vere needs a certain drug in order to— perform— but there are so many side-effects he needs other drugs to maintain what remains of his mind. He hasn’t much time, Elise. A few months. A year. Two. He’ll be dead before long, and he’ll die still tied to a woman he doesn’t love. Be merciful. Give him his freedom.”
“My husband is free to play with his whore,” Elise said bitterly. “He is free to leave his throne and abdicate his power to whomever he desires, but he will not be free of me. I was traded by my father for political favors. I did not want to come to this poor land, but I did, and I did become queen. I have a duty to my new people which supplants any desire or need for gold and physical security. My father’s honor, and my own, demand I fulfill my obligations, even onto death. I will not abandon my people to your care.”
Nodding agreeably, Belsac grinned and raised a hand. “I hoped you would say that, but the king insisted I try to speak reason with you. Tell me, did you know some bites leave no marks?”
Elise’s heart stilled when his fingers became winged snakes. She fought to make her face a mask but knew she failed. “You wouldn’t dare,”
“Oh, yes,” Belsac said, “I would.”
Five winged snakes shot through the air. She flinched back from their darting forms and refused to scream when wind from their beating wings stirred her hair. Fanged mouths set in multihued heads surrounded her as the five Hell-cursed snakes hissed and dripped venom around her body and head. Yet, their spitting venom somehow struck the floor while missing her person. Acrid smoke rose from the tainted floor, filling her head with vile fumes that made her senses reel and her knees weak. Flailing wildly, she struck out, but the snakes were too fast, too agile. She did nothing but miss.
Belsac chuckled dryly when she finally accepted defeat and held still.
“Decide,” he said. “Death or exile.”
Elise tried to swallow with a suddenly dry mouth and wished she were allowed to carry at least a knife. With a knife she might have injured one of the snakes. “My honor is worth more than my life. I will not abdicate my responsibilities. I choose death.”
“Very well.” Belsac gestured with his fingerless hand.
Elise refused to close her eyes. She had been trained to face any situation, no matter how ugly, with her eyes looking forward and her shoulders firm. Around her, the snakes darted in. Their breath brushed against her face. Venom dripping fangs touched her skin— and then a sheet of light burst around her.
Five charred corpses fell to the floor.
Drawing in a shaky breath, Elise curled her lips into a thin smile. Her one hope of salvation had come through. “Anothosia protects. You can offer me no harm while I carry this child, and once his heir is born my husband will throw your worthless carcasses on top of the traitor’s wall.”
Frowning, Belsac stared at his fingerless hand. When he looked at her, his eyes oozed hate. “It will take months for new fingers to grow, an
d they’ll be only fingers. You have killed my snakes, girl, and stolen one of my most potent weapons. For that, your end will be unpleasant.”
Turning, he strode to the chamber door and jerked it open. Pol waited outside.
“Don’t kill him,” Elise ordered the advisor, but she need not have bothered. Belsac gave her friend not one glance.
Pol looked at the charred snakes, at Elise, and looked ready to cry. “I’m sorry, My Queen. I cannot disobey the king’s orders— not until I’m ready to leave his kingdom in exile. If you come with me, I will defy the gods, but until you decide to join me, I’m helpless to give you succor. Dear Elise, I wish there was something I could do.”
“There is,” Elise said evenly. “I need to train. There are some things I need to kill, and I’ve anger to burn.”