“Which one is Sebastian?” he said in a low voice, filled with wonder.
I laughed again. “The one with the male appendage, if you want to peek beneath the swaddling.” He flushed so readily that I instantly apologized, then asked, “Why is it that you were never betrothed, Jamie?”
“I never had the time to look for a mate,” he said in all seriousness. He was still staring at the two kits, and I said, “Sebastian has a tiny streak of black in the white fur of his crown. His sister does not.”
He bent over to examine each, and then gently picked up one of the kits, holding it like fine china.
“Sebastian...” he whispered.
“Yes.”
A nursemaid scuttled in and, scolding, took the kit from Jamie, placing it back in its basinet. “The Queen needs her rest, and so do the little ones!” she announced.
“Of course,” Jamie said, backing away.
“Is there something you needed to talk about?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, looking preoccupied. “It can wait.”
“Is it about the ceremony? I will be ready for it next week.”
“I’m sure you will, my Queen. I will come back when you are stronger.”
But I was already drifting off back to my dreamful slumber.
A week later I was ready. The day came with another glorious dawn, but the weather turned by midday, and then a spring rain came, insistent but light with the scent of wet flowers and the season itself.
The skies had darkened, but my mood had not. In a matter of hours I would be crowned Queen, and then, a matter of moments later, be free of it. This thought alone filled me with my former strength.
Jamie came to see me just after my dressing. The gown was ridiculous and gaudy, all white lace and a flowing train meters long; I was afraid someone else if not myself would trip on it, and had bunched it up at my feet like a brooding pet while I went over the words of my declaration one final time.
“It is very strong,” Jamie said as he entered, and I did not look up.
“I know it is. I hope you approve of the changes?”
There was silence so I looked up. Jamie stood there holding a tray.
“I meant the gemel tea,” he said.
“Oh!” I laughed, and put down my pen. “Put it here, and drink with me before we go out together.”
“Very well.” He looked older, more somber than ever.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed my document aside. He put down the tray and drew two cups of steaming tea from the single pot, and pushed one across to me. “As I said, it is very strong.”
“I’m sure it is.” I lifted the hot liquid and sipped, then sipped again.
I looked up over the rim of the cup to see Jamie staring at me with a mixed look of horror and exultation.
“It is done, then,” he said in a whisper.
“Wha–”
But I did not finish my word, for a familiar feeling of panic and freezing terror overcame me. My throat constricted, and then I smelled the odor that should have warned me, the same that had tickled my nostrils when the Mighty’s concubine Hera had tried to assassinate me.
“This time it is very strong,” Jamie said. “You will die.”
My eyes must have held the question my lips could not speak. For as I slowly collapsed to the floor Jamie came around the table and stood over me.
“Why, you ask? Don’t you know why, Haydn?” His eyes were filled with tears while his voice rose. “Because you will not be Queen! Because everything we worked for, I worked for, would be destroyed if you went out there today! The monarchy is the only hope for Mars, and you would have destroyed it! And though I loved you, I could not let that happen! Just as I could not let it happen when your father threw it away.” He bent closer. “He paid, too, at my hand. I thought they would immediately crown you after the assassination, but the fools tried to carry on the republic, even as Frane’s threat was building! Everything I’ve done I’ve done for the true monarchy. It is all that counts!”
Howling in rage, he stood straight, drew his own full cup and held it up. “They will come now, and crown you before you die, and then your son Sebastian will be King and–” He drank the entire cup of deadly tea down in a gulp and then held the cup higher in salute “–long live the monarchy!”
Screaming with sudden agony, he collapsed atop me even as the room was filled with others...
I awoke in a haze of pain. I still could not speak, but I could hear what sounded like a hive of buzzing insects. I could not move my legs or arms, or feel them.
“She is awake!” someone said. I saw Xarr’s face come very close to mine, and then Newton’s grim visage. Then I saw Pelltier’s tear-streaked face.
“I have run the traitor through with my own sword, my lady, to make sure his death.”
His face withdrew. Someone behind him held something on a pillow – a delicate gold crown tipped with tiny red rubies. It looked as light as spun glass – and as heavy as the lead of death itself.
I tried to speak, but could not utter a word, nor move a muscle.
The crown was placed on my head, and words spoken.
Then it was removed. I saw it carried on its pillow by its bearer, who stood waiting between the two basinets.
I thought of how heavy that crown would lie on my poor son’s head, what a curse had befallen him.
“Sebastian...” I said, in a whisper behind unmoving lips.
And then I said no more.
Haydn of Mars Page 21