“Ishbel,” Axis murmured, holding out his arm for her.
She took it and, with thankfully confident steps, proceeded down the walkway to meet the Tyrant of Isembaard.
She noticed the instant he saw her belly. Something crossed his striking face, a shadow of disgust, probably, and Ishbel relaxed very slightly.
He would not bother her. He would set her aside in a chamber, and forget her.
Close up, Isaiah was taller and stronger than Ishbel had first thought. He was very handsome, and radiated such confidence and power that, despite her relief, Ishbel remained completely intimidated.
He regarded her with the steady black gaze of a hawk, his face now completely expressionless, his thoughts utterly closed to Ishbel.
Again as one, the troops fell silent, placing their spears back at their sides.
“Isaiah,” Axis said, in what seemed to Ishbel to be a fantastically relaxed voice. “I have the honor to present to you Ishbel, Queen of Escator.” His voice thickened with humor. “Your new bride.”
“A somewhat used bride,” Isaiah said, his voice devoid of any emotion, yet somehow managing to convey the utmost contempt.
All Ishbel’s fear, intimidation, and nervousness vanished in a moment of blinding, consuming anger.
She stepped forward before any could stop her, and dealt the Tyrant of Isembaard a stinging slap across the face.
CHAPTER TWO
Palace of Aqhat, Isembaard
Axis supposed he’d had worse moments in his long life, but right at that moment they paled completely into insignificance at Ishbel’s actions.
To hit Isaiah, in front of his troops; before so many witnesses, to so ridicule him.
“Stars, Ishbel!” Axis hissed, and grabbed at her elbow, wrenching her away from Isaiah. “You fool!”
That last he said a little louder, and more clearly, so that it would carry.
Axis glanced at Isaiah.
Isaiah had not moved.
His eyes had briefly shifted to Axis when he’d grabbed Ishbel, but now were back, steady and unflinching, on Ishbel.
Ishbel herself was flush-cheeked and glittery-eyed, and Axis did not know if it was due to remaining temper, or sheer fright at what she’d just done.
He hoped it was sheer fright, as that might, also, curb her tongue.
“I am assuming,” Isaiah said, his voice chilling, “that your former husband must have shackled you on your wedding night, to get that child in you.”
Then he looked at Axis. “Should I have chains and irons installed in my bedchamber, Axis, or do you think she can be tamed in time for our nuptials?” He paused. “Does she bite, do you think? Should I dare to hope for nails, as well?”
There was a ripple of amusement among the troops, and Axis saw Isaiah’s shoulders relax fractionally.
Pray to all gods, he thought, that Ishbel keeps her mouth closed.
Just then he saw her open it to speak, and realized that the glitter in her eyes was indeed rage, and not fright.
“Ishbel,” he hissed, his fingers closing a little more tightly about her elbow, “now is not the time!”
She whipped her face to his, furious, but Axis stared her down, and after a moment she dropped her eyes and looked to the ground.
Axis could feel her trembling with her anger. He looked to Isaiah, hoping that he, also, would now hold his tongue.
The man had a glint of humor in his eyes, which surprised Axis, but also relaxed him.
Ishbel had made her point, had then been suitably quelled, and Isaiah had regained with his pointed humor whatever he’d lost with her slap.
“Bring her inside,” Isaiah said, “and I will decide what to do with her later.”
“Forgive me, excellency,” said Axis, now careful to be the essence of deference, “but the introductions are not yet quite complete.”
Isaiah sent him a cold look.
“Ishbel, Queen of Escator,” said Axis, “and archpriestess of the Coil, an order of prophets who reside within Serpent’s Nest.”
Axis had thought to have caused Isaiah some surprise with that last, but to his complete amazement Isaiah merely raised one eyebrow.
“Truly?” Isaiah said, now looking from Axis to Ishbel. “I had heard rumor she was priestess to the Lord of Elcho Falling.”
Ishbel made a sound, half gasp, half moan, and went completely white. Axis, who had let her arm go, now grabbed at it again.
He felt completely bewildered. Who was the Lord of Elcho Falling? And how did Isaiah know it would upset Ishbel so greatly?
“Isaiah,” Axis said, grating the words out, “we need to get inside.”
“Then bring her inside,” said Isaiah, “for I have grown weary with this extravagance of conversation. We shall dine tonight, all three of us, and share confidences over chilled wine.”
With that, Isaiah turned on his heel, diamond-encrusted braids swinging, and strode back toward the palace.
Axis bathed, and dressed in fresh linens, then stood at the window of his chamber, head resting against the cool marble of the window frame, thinking about the scene on the wharf.
It had not played out quite as he’d imagined.
It had begun very much as he’d thought it would—all great dignity and arrogance on Isaiah’s part, followed by a sarcastic comment regarding Ishbel’s pregnancy, and then…
Axis had not thought Ishbel to have such a quick temper, although Isaiah had certainly earned that slap.
From that point on, though, something had been happening that Axis could not pinpoint. Isaiah’s subsequent words, his sarcastic humor, had been vintage Isaiah…but Isaiah had been genuinely amused and, if Axis was not mistaken, very interested.
Perhaps Ishbel had ignited interest with that slap. Axis thought there could have been very few women who would ever have dared to slap Isaiah, even when he’d been just one prince among many competing for the throne of Isembaard.
Of everything, though, it had been Isaiah’s comment about the Lord of Elcho Falling that had perplexed and intrigued Axis. Had Isaiah known Ishbel would react as she did?
Yes, Axis decided, Isaiah probably had known.
But how…how?
Damn the man! Axis had a feeling that anyone trying to plumb Isaiah’s depths would drown within their complexity before they ever reached bottom.
And they were to dine together tonight. Axis grinned. It would be an interesting evening.
A servant—if that was a suitable word to describe a man so gorgeously appareled and with such an air of dignity—escorted Ishbel to Isaiah’s private chambers just after dusk. She had spent the afternoon in a charming suite of rooms, full of beauty and coolness, a wonderful scent of spices drifting in the windows, gradually calming down after what Isaiah had said to her on the wharf.
Everything he’d said about her pregnancy, everything he’d intimated about his own bedding of her, was forgotten in that single, devastating phrase.
I had heard rumor she was priestess to the Lord of Elcho Falling.
At those words, a great tide of sadness and loss had flooded Ishbel’s being, and she was washed momentarily back into the nightmare that had visited her the previous night.
Now she was to dine with Isaiah, and Ishbel was very, very tense and wished, yet once again, but with more desperation than ever, that she was home, and safe, in Serpent’s Nest.
The chamber the servant led her to was not quite what she’d expected.
Anything but intimidating, the long room stretched from east to west with open floor-to-ceiling windows in each of its end walls. Soft lamps glowed on the walls, and gauzy drapes wafted gently in the open windows. Low, cushioned seats, each with low tables to either side of them, sat in a circle in the center of the chamber. A small round table stood in the center of the circle of chairs. Food and wine had been set out on yet another table, just behind the circle of chairs. The chamber was both intimate and airy, and furnished for comfort and relaxation rather than to awe.
There appeared to be no one about. Ishbel walked slowly into the room, stopping just before the circle of chairs.
She looked down at the table in the center of the chairs, and it seemed as if her heart stilled in her breast.
A goblet stood there, stunning in its beauty. Frogs capered about its cup and over the rim, and a single reed taper, lit and set just behind it, sent light glowing through its amber glass so that the frogs appeared almost as if they were alive, and moving.
It was the goblet she had seen in her dream, the goblet she had presented to the Lord of Elcho Falling.
Ishbel took a step backward, one hand on her chest as if to still her now wildly beating heart.
“It is known as the Goblet of the Frogs,” said Isaiah, stepping out of the shadows, “and you have no reason whatsoever to be afraid of it.”
She looked at him, still tense, still ready to run. He still wore the hipwrap and the diamonds in his braided hair, but the golden collar and other jewelry had disappeared.
Then she looked at his eyes, and her entire world changed.
His eyes were vast pools of compassion, and Ishbel suddenly, devastatingly, realized who he was.
The Great Serpent’s companion, the god of the frogs and of the river.
She trembled, and made as if to bow, but Isaiah waved a hand. “No need,” he said. “Not now.”
“My lord—”
“Isaiah will suffice,” he said, smiling, “although you might like to apologize for that little slap on the wharf.”
“I—” Ishbel simply could not get her mouth to work.
Isaiah walked very close. She did not, could not, move.
Ishbel was mesmerized by those eyes, by their compassion and understanding, and by an almost instant renewal of the bond she’d felt when he appeared to her on the balcony of Serpent’s Nest. She felt as if she had known him all her life, as if he were part of her life.
He leaned down, and kissed her briefly, and Ishbel closed her eyes and shuddered.
When she opened them Isaiah was offering the goblet to her. “There is no reason to be afraid of this,” he repeated, “just as you have no reason to be afraid of who you are and of where you are going. Here, hold it.”
Ishbel stared at the goblet, and did not move.
“I swear to you, Ishbel,” Isaiah said softly, but with such intensity that she raised her eyes to his, “that if what you feel from this goblet frightens you then I will personally escort you back to Serpent’s Nest, setting out in the morning. My oath, Ishbel, believe it.”
She did.
She looked back at the outstretched goblet. “I might drop it,” she said.
He gave a slight shrug. “Fate, then. Take it, Ishbel.”
Very slowly she reached out a hand, clenching her fingers briefly as she realized how badly they shook, then slid them about the stem of the goblet, over Isaiah’s own fingers.
“Do you feel?” he murmured.
She almost shook her head, because for a moment all she could feel, all she was aware of, was the warmth and strength of Isaiah’s fingers, but then something else drifted through.
A soft whispering, but oh, so gentle, and oh, so soothing.
Hold me, soothe me, love me.
Ishbel drew in a deep, shaky breath.
Hold him, soothe him, love him.
Her eyes flew to Isaiah’s, and he smiled at her, with such warmth that her own eyes flooded with tears. Gently, he slid his fingers from under hers, and Ishbel had to lift up her other hand to take the full weight of the goblet in both.
The tears spilled down her cheeks and she sank into one of the chairs, absorbed for the moment in the goblet and what it was saying to her.
Hold me, soothe me, love me.
Hold him, soothe him, love him.
Eventually, Isaiah came to her side, took the goblet from her, and placed it on a shelf on a side wall. Then Isaiah looked to the door, smiled, and said, “Welcome, Axis. I had wondered when you would arrive. We are both quite faint with hunger.”
Axis was surprised to see Ishbel here before him. She was sitting with her back to him as he entered, and he thought he saw her wipe at her eyes.
What had they been saying? More of Isaiah’s sarcasm?
Axis put the small satchel he’d been carrying to one side and stepped forward to greet Isaiah, then moved so he could see Ishbel, now looking up at him.
“Ishbel?” Axis said. “Are you well?”
“Yes,” she said. “Better, now.”
And she looked, then smiled, at Isaiah.
Axis felt a flame of interest, and not a little bit of jealousy. Isaiah waved him to a chair and both men sat down.
Axis wanted to ask what the other two had been talking about before he arrived, but before he could find the right words to phrase the question, servants came in a side door and began placing food and wine on the tables to the side of each diner’s chair.
It was a pleasant way to eat, Axis thought, relaxing back in his chair, a white napkin spread over his lap, chewing a delightful concoction of rare meat minced with spiced nuts and dates. The conversation centered on easy generalities, servants hovered always to hand to proffer bowls of scented water to wash sticky fingers, or more food, or drink, or a clean napkin.
Eventually, when all had eaten to sufficiency, the servants cleared the tables, then set out small bowls of confectionery and ewers of iced wine. When they had done, Isaiah waved them away, saying that he and his guests would serve themselves.
“Tell me about your journey north, Axis,” Isaiah said. “Where did you find Ishbel? In what manner?”
Axis briefly told Isaiah what had happened, leaving out nothing save his acquisition of Ba’al’uz’ glass pyramid. Isaiah listened dispassionately, lifting his eyebrows only when Axis mentioned the Icarii, and BroadWing.
“Ishbel was cruelly treated by Ba’al’uz,” Axis finished. “If it were not for the attention of Zeboath, the physician we found in Torinox—you might have seen him, he was standing just behind us on the riverboat—I fear we may have lost her. As it is, Zeboath continues to hold fears for the health of Ishbel’s child.”
Isaiah’s gaze slid briefly to Ishbel’s belly, then he shrugged. “She appears well enough now. This Zeboath, you like him? He is a good physician?”
“Yes. He is desperate for your patronage.”
“Then he shall have due honor and regard in my court, and my goodwill besides. What other news, Axis?”
“Well…Ishbel does have some interesting news regarding Lister.”
Isaiah raised his eyebrows at Ishbel.
In a low but steady voice Ishbel related what she’d told Axis and Zeboath. Lister had once been the archpriest of the Coil, but had vanished some twenty years since. No one among the Coil had seen or heard from him again.
“There had been uncertainty and loss in the year or two after he vanished,” said Ishbel, “but with the rise of Aziel into the archpriesthood, life settled down, and so far as I remember, members of the Coil only rarely thought of Lister, or wondered where he was.”
“And you became the archpriestess,” Isaiah said, appearing completely uninterested in this news of Lister’s origins. “Tell me the secrets of Serpent’s Nest, Ishbel, if you will.”
“Serpent’s Nest has no secrets,” Ishbel said, “but even if there were secrets, then I am not sure I should tell them to a man who plans to invade my homeland and destroy it.”
She raised an eyebrow to Isaiah at this, as if asking a question.
“Ah,” said Isaiah, giving the faintest shake of his head, as if he did not wish to answer Ishbel’s unasked question. “Axis has told you all my secrets, then, and has got from you not a one.”
“Axis does not know the extent of Isaiah’s secrets,” Axis said dryly, wondering again at what had happened between Isaiah and Ishbel before he arrived, “let alone the nature of them. I had thought you to be surprised at the news of Lister’s former occupation, but no. I wonder what your inter
est in Serpent’s Nest is, Isaiah. What has Lister told you?”
Isaiah made a vague gesture with his hand, as if to evade the question, but he was saved from any verbal response by Ishbel.
“Do not invade the north, Isaiah,” said Ishbel. “Please.” She paused. “I don’t understand why you would want to—”
“Does your Great Serpent tell you his secrets, Ishbel? No? Then why should I?”
Ishbel almost shrank back into her chair, and turned aside her face.
There was a lengthy pause, Axis looking carefully between Ishbel and Isaiah.
“Ishbel,” Axis said eventually, “has the Great Serpent never mentioned Lister? If Lister had been the god’s archpriest, and then vanished, and then took up with the Skraelings, would not the Great Serpent have mentioned it at some point? After all, he warned you about the invasion of the Skraelings—”
And from the ancient evil from the south.
“He might not necessarily mention it,” Ishbel said. “The Great Serpent speaks to us directly very infrequently, and then generally only in riddles. It is a habit of gods, I believe.” There was a spot more color in her cheeks now.
“Still…” said Axis, wishing he knew what the hell was going on between Ishbel and Isaiah. “It is strange, nonetheless. He warned you about the Skraelings, but not about Lister. Very odd.”
“And your Great Serpent did not mention me?” said Isaiah, refilling his wine goblet and lifting it to his mouth.
“Perhaps he referred to you when he spoke of the great and ancient evil rising from the south,” Ishbel said, her tone somewhat tart.
Isaiah’s mouth curved about the rim of his wine goblet, but he said nothing.
“There is something I have not yet mentioned,” Axis said, having had enough of this bizarre conversation. He rose and fetched the small satchel he’d brought into the chamber with him.
He opened it, and lifted out the glass pyramid.
“Why, Axis,” Isaiah said as Axis sat back down, “Ba’al’uz’ pyramid. How strange you did not refer to it when earlier you related the adventure of Ishbel’s rescue.”