Twilight of a Queen

by Susan Carroll

  The room in which he was confined was small and dank, outfitted with little more than a thin pallet and the chamber pot, nothing that could serve him as a weapon. The only window was a narrow aperture set far above his head.

  Xavier could remember little of the journey that had brought him to this place. He had nightmarish recollections of slipping in and out of consciousness as he had been jolted along in a cart over rough roads.

  At some point, someone had attended to his wound. Xavier believed it might have been Queen Catherine’s own physician. The witch was clearly determined to keep him alive, if for no other reason than the pleasure of tormenting him to the brink of madness.

  He feared he was halfway there. His days and nights were a blur. He had no notion how much time had passed, how long he had been the queen’s prisoner. Worse still, he had no inkling of what had happened to Jane.

  He cursed, threatened, and in the end had begged his guards for information. But they brought him food and carted away his slops in stony silence, obviously under strict orders not to speak one word to him.

  He was tormented by recollections of the threats Catherine had made against Jane. The fear that these images aroused was so great, he had to force them from his mind in order to keep his sanity.

  The only thing that prevented him from slipping over the edge was his ability to slow his breathing, to ease himself into a self-induced trance. In his mind, he assumed the form of the jaguar. He was back in his tropical paradise, near the cool stream with his mermaid bathing his brow.

  Her caress felt so gentle, so real, Xavier opened his eyes. After being in total darkness, even the soft glow of the candle felt painful. His eyes gradually adjusted, focusing on Jane’s face.

  When he realized she was not an illusion or a fever-induced dream, his heart constricted painfully.

  “God damn it, no,” he rasped, tossing his head weakly from side to side, unable to stop the flow of tears from his eyes.

  “It is all right, Xavier. I am here,” Jane said, trying to wipe his tears away.

  “No!” he groaned. “Don’t want you here. I prayed you ’scaped. Why didn’t… run? Why did you t-try to—”

  “Hush, my love,” she soothed. She continued to bathe his face and forced him to take a sip of some wine.

  It was a potent vintage, heavy and sweet. Xavier was unprepared for the rush of warmth it sent through him, seeming to radiate along every vein, every nerve. Even his head felt a little clearer.

  The candle set in its iron holder rested upon the floor next to Jane. The burning wick cast a soft flickering glow over her features, but the illumination was not enough for him to see her as well as he wished. His gaze roved desperately over her.

  He took another swallow of the wine and it cleared his throat. He was better able to articulate his words.

  “You are not harmed? That witch has not hurt you?”

  Jane smiled sadly. “No. I am close watched but other than that I have been well treated. I don’t believe the queen considers me of any significance other than a pawn to persuade Meg to do her bidding.”

  “Meg?” Xavier’s breath hitched in his chest. “The queen has Meg too?”

  He moaned. The situation seemed so hopeless.

  “Tell me everything that has happened,” he said.

  Jane related as much as she knew of Meg’s capture and arrival at the castle.

  “The queen is so desperate for Meg’s cooperation, she has made many concessions. It was Meg who persuaded Catherine to allow me to visit. The queen has accorded Meg a certain measure of freedom and given her a stillroom to work in. She badly wants more of Meg’s elixir.”

  “Meg must not brew it for her. It only makes Catherine stronger.”

  “Meg knows that. She has been stalling for time, but I don’t know how much longer Catherine will give her. Meg has succeeded in making more of the elixir. She put a few drops in this wine.”

  That explained the potency of the wine. Xavier managed a wan smile. “Considering how the girl feels about me, I am surprised she didn’t try to slip something else in the cup.”

  “Meg knows the truth about you, Xavier.”

  “What? You mean about how my blundering only resulted in the Dark Queen being more determined to capture her?”

  Jane stroked the hair back from his brow. “No, she knows how you risked your life in an effort to protect her.”

  “Damned little good that it did.” The irons on his wrist clanked, but at least they allowed him enough movement to gather Jane’s hand in his. “Jane, I don’t know how much more time we will be granted together, so you must listen to me.

  “Meg is remarkable, so clever. I suspect that elixir is only one part of what she learned from that Book of Shadows. She can use her knowledge, figure out something that will help the two of you escape. I know it must sound mad, trusting your fate to a girl—”

  “Meg is not a girl anymore,” Jane interrupted him, her expression somber. “She has changed into someone I scarce recognize and it frightens me. It is as though she is actually becoming Megaera.”

  “Megaera may be the one needed to defeat the Dark Queen. Have her conjure up whatever dark spell, whatever is necessary. If you find any opportunity for escape, you have to take it.”

  “I won’t leave you,” Jane said quietly.

  “Damn it, woman,” Xavier said, in his agitation struggling to rise. “There is no hope for me, can’t you see that? Catherine believes that she read my greatest fear, being shackled and held prisoner in some dank hold. But she understands so little of love, she doesn’t know, could not comprehend.”

  Xavier regarded her with a mingling of love and desperation. “My greatest fear is anything happening to you, Jane.”

  “And what do you think mine is? Losing you.”

  Xavier swore again and tossed his head, racking his mind for anything that he could say to convince her. But Jane captured his face between her hands.

  “Damn you, Louis Xavier Cheney,” she said fiercely. “You listen to me. I—will—never—abandon—you.”

  He stared deep into her eyes blazing with so much love for him it filled him with such joy, such despair, such frustration at his own helplessness, he felt his eyes well up all over again.

  Jane wrapped her arms about him, cradling him close, tears spilling down her own cheeks. She whispered in his ear, “We survived a near revolution. We will get through this somehow together, you, me, and Meg. I know we will.”

  She was glad that her face was buried against his neck and he could not see her eyes. If she and Xavier did find a way out of this, it would not be because of Meg.

  Some darkness indeed seemed to have taken possession of the girl. Meg showed very little interest in escape.

  THE STILLROOM THAT CATHERINE HAD PROVIDED FOR MEG was set in the older part of the castle, far away from the main flow of the household.

  The queen had stocked it well with every manner of herb, mortar and pestle, vials and cauldrons. The chamber was strangely little different from Ariane’s workroom.

  But Meg was certain that the concoction steaming in her cauldron was nothing that had ever been brewed by any Lady of Faire Isle. As Meg worked, she was aware that a guard hovered just outside the door.

  She knew that Catherine’s servants were supposed to be keeping close watch and reporting everything she did, every ingredient she used. But they were lax in their duties for a reason that astonished Meg when she realized it.

  They were all more afraid of her than Catherine. Her reputation as the Silver Rose had spread and was talked of in hushed whispers. For once Meg did little to try to disprove her legend. The fear of the servants worked to her advantage. Although she was disturbed when even her burly guard shrank away from her, it also gave her a heady taste of power.

  As she carefully added another ingredient to her cauldron and the liquid bubbled violently, she saw the guard inch even farther from the doorway.

  Meg smiled until she caught sight of
her own reflection in the looking glass mounted on the wall. When had the set of her mouth turned that hard, almost cruel? She reached up to touch her hair. It seemed so much darker in the dim lighting of this room, illuminated only by candles. Her face looked thinner, her cheekbones more pronounced, her skin so pale. She was starting to resemble her mother to an alarming degree.

  Not that it mattered what she looked like anymore, Meg told herself. The queen’s patience was wearing thin. The vision in her crystal must be fulfilled very soon. Meg approached her guard and demanded he fetch her some more water from the well.

  He should have found a servant to do it, but Meg insisted her need was urgent.

  “You can wait until someone else can be summoned. The queen’s elixir will be ruined and I shall have to begin all over again. If you want to explain to Her Majesty how that happened—”

  The guard clearly didn’t. He raced off to fill her request. Meg knew she did not have much time. She bent down and felt beneath the bench, where she had hidden her witch blade.

  She untwisted the hilt and carefully filled the hollow with some of the liquid from her cauldron. Cassandra Lascelles had preferred to employ a poison that was slow-acting, allowing her victim to suffer in agony for several days.

  This poison was far more merciful than her mother’s had ever been, Meg comforted herself. Death would be swift and sure. For a moment, Meg quailed from her own thoughts. Could she really go through with this?

  “Of course you can, Megaera.” Her mother’s voice whispered through her mind. “This is your destiny. You were born for this.”

  She wrapped up the witch blade carefully and slipped it back into its place of concealment. She would have to see that the rest of the poison was disposed of and the cauldron well-scrubbed. Meg had no desire to see any innocent person inadvertently come to harm.

  She glanced down and noticed that her palms were sweating. Meg wiped them in the folds of her apron. She had much to do before tomorrow.

  Tomorrow … that was the day she had decided upon when she must be prepared to meet her fate.

  Meg emerged from the older part of the castle an hour later, her lumbering guard trailing after her. Her thoughts far away, she collided with a tall dark-haired man.

  Meg reared back, mumbling her apologies. “I am so sorry,” she began, but her voice trailed off when she realized she was looking into the handsome face of the duc de Guise.

  As she sank into a nervous curtsy, the powerful nobleman merely looked amused. “The fault was entirely mine, mademoiselle.”

  Meg sought for some response, but what else could one say when confronted by a dead man? She had read the king’s murderous intent too clearly the day she had first arrived at the castle.

  Meg realized she was staring, holding the duke’s gaze far too long. Looking a trifle discomfited by her, His Grace strode past.

  Meg was tempted to rush after him, try to warn the man, but she knew he would never heed the word of some insignificant young girl.

  Perhaps she could find some other way to put the duke on his guard. But she had enough worries of her own. There was one more thing she needed to do before tomorrow. She had to see Xavier.

  XAVIER SAT UP ON HIS PALLET, BRACING HIS BACK AGAINST THE wall. The sips of Meg’s potion had helped to restore some of his strength, but he almost thought he had been better off when he was half-delirious.

  He had nothing to do but watch the progress of the spider weaving a cobweb in the corner of his cell while he stewed over his own helplessness and worried what might be happening to Jane and Meg.

  He had managed to chip a small piece of mortar out of the wall. The next time his silent guard entered, Xavier had determined to bounce the chunk off the man’s head if he refused to tell Xavier anything.

  The rock was too small to do any harm, but at least it would allow Xavier to vent some of his frustration, even if the guard retaliated and beat him senseless.

  Xavier tensed, his fingers curling around the shard of stone when he heard the key grate in the lock. But rather than the dour lump that was his guard, it was Meg who entered the cell.

  The rock fell unnoticed from his hand as Xavier stared up at her. Meg returned his regard with equal gravity as the cell door was shut behind her.

  They studied each other for a long moment, then Meg said in her usual blunt fashion, “You look worse than you did after the day you washed up on the island.”

  Xavier laughed. “Thank you. You look—” But he was hard-pressed to say exactly how Meg looked. He understood why Jane was so worried about the girl. In the dim light of his cell, Meg appeared almost wraithlike, as though she were in danger of disappearing right before his eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Her lips drew back in a taut smile. “That’s a strange question coming from you.”

  He flushed. “Meg, I don’t know what I can say to convince you, but I do care about you. I never meant to betray—”

  “I know that. I only meant it was strange you should be worrying about me. You should be more concerned for yourself.”

  “Unfortunately, that has been my first concern for far too many years.”

  She ventured closer, entwining her fingers together. “It doesn’t sound as though that is how you behaved in Paris. I know about your scheme to protect me from the Dark Queen.”

  “Pretty stupid, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Her lips curved in a smile that was more like Meg, wistful with just a hint of mischief in it. “But I do thank you for trying.”

  “It might have worked, if your potion wasn’t so blasted good. It restored her strength.” Xavier shook his head ruefully. “I had no idea the woman was so powerful. Those eyes of hers … the sheer force of them, she can strip you clean.”

  “The Dark Queen is dangerous. She always will be until the day … she dies.” Something about the way Meg pronounced those last two words, the glazed look that came into her eyes, rendered Xavier uneasy.

  The girl appeared to give herself a brisk shake. “The guard will not allow me much more time, so please listen to me.”

  She glanced over her shoulder as though fearful of being heard. She came even closer, hunkering down beside Xavier and lowering her voice.

  “I have been racking my brain for a way for you and Jane to escape. I am going to slip Jane another potion I have brewed. When she drops it in the corridor, it will break and issue a mist that will render the guard temporarily unconscious. Then Jane can get the key, but you and Jane must take great care to keep your faces covered and not breathe any of the mist.

  “There is bound to be a great deal of confusion tomorrow. Hopefully that will afford you and Jane the opportunity to steal away from the castle. It is not a great plan, but it is the best I can come up with.”

  Xavier frowned. “Why will there be confusion tomorrow? And why does this plan include only me and Jane? What about you?”

  She ducked her head, not answering him. Then she said in a small voice, “Because I don’t think I will be able to go anywhere after—”

  “After what? What do you think is going to happen? What are you planning to do?”

  He managed to get her to look up at him. He studied the expression on her face, a mixture of despair and resolve. His breath caught as he suddenly understood what Meg had in mind because it was the same sort of dark temptation he would have felt himself.

  “Meg, you can’t.”

  Her lower lip trembled. “I have to. The Dark Queen will always be a threat to anyone I care about. She will hurt anyone that she has to, all to get at the secrets in my head.

  “Do you realize what I might tell her if she held an ax over your head or Jane’s? Or anyone I love. What wouldn’t I say to stop her, what dark knowledge wouldn’t I share, that never should be shared?”

  The torment in Meg’s young eyes was enough to break his heart.

  “She’s an old woman, Meg. She cannot last that much longer.”

  “Long en
ough to hurt you or Jane if I don’t give her what she wants. I have known for a long time it would come to this. I have seen myself destroying the Dark Queen over and over again in my crystal.”

  “Forgot that damned crystal, Meg. You have a choice.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “But if you are caught—”

  “I will be. I won’t make any attempt to conceal my crime. Dark deeds must be answered for. That is something my mother or the queen have never understood.”

  “You will be tried, executed.”

  “I know.” She regarded him sadly. “And then the Book of Shadows will die with me.”

  “Meg, this is not the answer—” he began desperately as he heard the guard returning. But from the look in her eyes, he could see that Meg had already slipped away from him.

  She brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Good-bye, Xavier.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  THE HOUR WAS YET SO EARLY THAT THE SUN HAD NOT arisen. A chilling rain battered the windows of the council chamber where the duc de Guise had gathered with some of the other council members for an early morning meeting with the king.

  He shivered, and drawing a light cloak about his shoulders, he moved nearer the fire. But the bleakness of the day didn’t bother him, his own prospects were shining so bright.

  Word had reached him that the armada had failed. He could no longer rely on Spain for an ally, but that suited him well. He had never cared for being Philip’s pensioner. After all, he was the head of the noblest house in all of France, and now he was king in everything but name.

  “Your Grace?”

  The duke glanced around. One of the king’s new secretaries—the duke had not troubled himself to remember the man’s name—bowed to him. He was not a very prepossessing fellow. In fact, he appeared exceedingly pale and nervous about even addressing the duc de Guise.

  “The king would—would like a word with you in his private chambers before the council meeting.”