“Wizards are sometimes wrong, you know. Emperor Nechtyn’s wizard, Thayne, prophesied that the touch of the sun on Sebestyen’s face would be the sign that his life and his rule were over. It’s been months since Sophie brought sunshine into the palace, and things are still going well. As well as can be expected, I would say. Sebestyen has me now, and the rebels are no closer to taking the palace, and with Captain Hern and the Circle on his side, the rebels don’t have a chance. Wizards can be wrong.”
Isadora knew that to a wizard, who was likely to live an extraordinarily long life, months were no more than the blink of an eye. And she also knew Sebestyen would not have the Circle warriors fighting with his army. She did not think it would be wise to tell Liane either of these things.
The idea of running to Tryfyn with Lucan was a nice one. Isadora could see it in her mind, the two of them—with Franco and Esmun and Elya, of course—making their escape. They would ride fast and hard, and she would finally be free from this terrible place.
But she did not fool herself into thinking she could stay with Lucan forever.
Eventually he would learn that she was a witch, and he would hate her. It would be best if she did the leaving herself, before that happened.
She and Lucan could have some time together, if all went well. Isadora wanted that time with him; she even felt that she deserved to have it. Lucan would be the man to get her out of the palace. In spite of his promises, she didn’t believe for one minute that Emperor Sebestyen intended to let her go.
When he first woke and found his wife gone, Sebestyen was not overly concerned. Even though Liane had been confined to bed for weeks, she did visit the lavatory often, and she was allowed short walks to stretch her legs.
He rose, bathed, and dressed, and when that was done and his wife had not returned, he became concerned. Since Isadora and Gadhra had ordered her to bed rest, Liane had not been out of this room for more than a few minutes at a time.
Beorn and Serian were stationed in the hallway, guarding the entrance to his bedchamber as they did every morning after dawn and shift change.
“Where is the empress?” Sebastian snapped.
They both bowed to him in respect, and then Serian said, “We were informed that Empress Liane and her maid left some time ago, before our shift began. Mahri said the empress was restless and did not wish to disturb you, and that they were going to Level Five.”
“Restless,” Sebestyen repeated.
Serian nodded, and dipped his head so he would not have to look his emperor in the eye.
Sebestyen loved his wife, oddly enough, and he knew her well. If she were restless, she would not care about disturbing his sleep. She would likely elbow him in the side to make sure that he did not sleep well while she could not.
He headed for the lift, and the two sentinels fell into step behind him. There was little potential for danger to the emperor here in the upper levels of the palace, but at least two sentinels were with him at all times. Only in his personal chambers did he know complete privacy. The three of them made their way to Level Five by way of the lift, and no one said a word. It wasn’t as if he carried on idle conversation with his guards. Liane had a habit of getting much too friendly with her servants, but then she had once been a servant herself. She would learn, in time, that those who served were not worthy of the time and effort it took to converse.
Soon, when the baby was sent to the priests for safekeeping and training, Liane would have no one but her husband to lean on. That was as it should be.
Ferghus and Tatsl were stationed outside the empress’ quarters, and they snapped to attention when they saw who approached. Even Mahri waited in the hallway, pacing nervously. She, too, assumed a posture of deference.
Ferghus, who stood directly in front of the door, did not move. Sebestyen gestured with his hand, indicating that the sentinel should step aside. He did not.
“My Lady Liane has commanded that she and her midwife not be disturbed until we are informed otherwise,” the man said in a lowered but disturbingly strong voice.
“I’m sure she did not include her husband in that order.”
At least the man had the grace to pale as he answered, “She did, my lord. Most specifically.”
Sebestyen leaned toward the loyal sentinel and lowered his voice. “If you don’t move aside, I will have you killed here and now, is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord. Understood. Would it be permissible to send the maid in to see that the women are prepared for your presence?”
Prepared. Good lord, the baby was coming. Sebestyen’s heart thumped too hard. He should’ve realized as soon as he woke and discovered Liane missing from their bed. He nodded curtly in assent.
They both stepped aside to allow Mahri to enter the room. Sebestyen strained to listen, but all was silent in the brief moments the door was opened. Very shortly, Mahri returned. She opened the door, stepped back, and silently invited Sebestyen to enter.
He had never entered the empress’ chambers through this main entrance. In fact, he had never visited any of his wives previous to Liane here, and when he had come to her he’d used the secret passageways. Those winding stairways and narrow halls were the only way he could move about the palace alone, without his constant guard.
Beorn and Serian entered the chamber with him, but at his signal they assumed their post in the entry way.
The empress’ chambers were laid out very differently from his own. The entrance to his bedroom opened onto one huge space. There were smaller chambers beyond that large bedroom for dressing and bathing, and other rooms on Level One were available for meetings and entertainment and dining.
These rooms were smaller, each chamber with a purpose, each connected to another by a narrow passageway. They were very nicely decorated, but he would suffocate if he were forced to live here. No wonder his four former wives had all come to hate him.
Not that he hadn’t given them other reasons to hate him, before he’d dispatched them all to Level Thirteen.
The narrow passageway opened into the bedchamber. He saw Liane before she saw him, and so he was still for a moment in order to watch his wife unobserved. She rested on a soft mound of pillows, and she seemed fine. Maybe he had been wrong, and the baby was not coming just yet. That was a relief. It was too soon, but then Isadora and Gadhra had both said the baby would come early and would be fine.
How sad that he was forced to take the word of witches in such important matters. He caught a glimpse of Isadora out of the comer of his eye. Today she was dressed in a serviceable blue dress unlike those she had been wearing in her charade as Liane’s cousin. Another hint that perhaps this was the day they had been waiting for.
He entered the bedroom properly and scowled down at his wife. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Liane looked squarely and bravely at him, in a way no one else dared, and answered, “I’m having a baby.”
“Excellent.” Sebestyen fetched a chair and pulled it to Liane’s bedside, where he sat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Liane snapped.
“You do wish me present for the birth, don’t you?”
“No!”
He should not feel hurt that Liane did not want him here, but the pang at his center was a sign of sharp disappointment. “It is my place.”
Liane shook her head. “I don’t want anyone here but Isadora.”
She would choose the witch over her own husband? True, a woman’s presence was necessary. Sebestyen certainly didn’t wish to deliver the child himself. But Liane wanted Isadora to be with her. She did not want him. In what should be a time of joy, he found himself annoyed.
“That’s impossible. There must be witnesses to the birth. Father Merryl, with another priest or two in attendance, myself—”
“No!” Liane rose up, slowly but perhaps as quickly as was possible, given her condition. “Look at me, Sebestyen. I am sweating, distended, and laid out upon this bed like a sacrificial cow, w
here I will shortly and painfully expel your very large son from my body. It is not an event I wish to be witnessed by anyone. If I could manage this alone, I wouldn’t even allow Isadora in the room!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said calmly.
Liane’s face paled, and her expression changed. She gripped the sheets beneath her hands and closed her eyes. The pain she experienced was so clear on her face, he felt it himself. Her breathing changed, she moaned in agony, and she muttered a few foul words that should never pass an empress’ lips.
If he could take the pain from her and bear it himself, he would. Watching her suffer was excruciating in a way he had not expected it to be.
The pain passed like a wave. Starting gently, growing stronger, then fading gradually. When it was done, Liane opened her eyes and looked at him again. “If I were not very sure that neither of us could have a child again, you would not touch me from this day forward. I don’t know how it is possible that any woman ever willingly has more than one child.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “This is terrible, and I don’t want you to see me this way. I should be beautiful for you, always.”
He reached out and touched a sweaty, pale cheek. “You are beautiful to me, Liane. Now more than ever.”
She actually laughed, though not with exuberance. “You are such a liar.”
“No,” he said sincerely. “Not about this.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently.
When he drew away, she seemed to relax. “Don’t tell the priests that I’m in labor,” she said. “We can summon them after the child is born and tell them I had an unusually quick delivery.”
“They will not be happy.”
“The happiness of the priests has never been my concern.”
Sebestyen turned his attention to Isadora. “How long?”
“It is too soon to tell. Hours. Perhaps all day.”
Liane responded with a succinct curse word.
For a moment, Sebestyen sat in the chair without responding. Even though he wished to be present for the birth of his son, he did not want to sit here and watch Liane suffer for hours on end. Perhaps that made him a coward. But as she did not want him here, it made perfect sense for him to leave the women to their work. He stood slowly. “When the time is near, send for me. I want to be with you when the baby is born.”
“No, Sebestyen,” Liane argued.
He glared down at her. “I will be here, Liane. If you wish it there will be no other witnesses, but I will be here, where I belong, when my son is born.”
“I will send for you when the time comes,” Isadora said. “Don’t be impatient. It might be a long while.”
Liane seemed to relax when she realized that he indeed planned to leave. Sebestyen went to Isadora and placed his arm around her shoulder. There had been a time when he would not have dared such a dangerous gesture, but she had been here for months, and he had not seen any evidence that she possessed the kinds of witchery her sister had displayed in the grand ballroom. She was, in fact, quite harmless.
He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “If anything happens to my wife or my son while they are in your hands, you will pray for a quick death before I am finished with you.”
“I am doing my best, my lord, and will continue to do so.”
Sebestyen wanted to ask Isadora about news from Lucan Hern’s bed, but now was not the time. His wife and son were on his mind, and he had no time or energy for any other thoughts.
For today, there was no rebellion, no machinations, no prophecies to fear. For today, there was just Liane and the miraculous birth of their son.
Since Lucan had heard Mahri’s call at his door early in the morning, he would understand why Isadora did not appear for their daily lessons. Still, she wished she could send him a message of some sort. I miss you; I want you; I can’t wait to get out of this place with you...
There was no one in the Level Five hallway—in the entire palace—she would trust with such a message. Lucan knew why she was occupied, and so he would not worry. Nothing else mattered at the moment.
Liane grew more contentious and impatient as the day wore on. Her labor pains gradually increased in intensity and very gradually grew closer together. She cursed the soldiers who had brought her to this place nearly seventeen years ago; Sophie, who had wielded the magic that made this child possible; Isadora, who was the only one present to rail against; and her husband, the Emperor Sebestyen, who had done this terrible thing to her and who would pay in a thousand ways before his miserable life was done.
In the moments when pain did not dominate Liane’s world, they had talked through their plans for the minutes surrounding and just after the birth of the twins. Juliet had delivered twins in the past, and Isadora remembered that there had been a span of several minutes—a quarter of an hour in that case, she believed Juliet had said—between the births.
If all went well, their plan should work. When the first child was born, they would wrap him in the waiting warm blanket and give him to Ferghus. There would be no time for delivering both babies and choosing which was stronger and which was weaker, as Liane had planned. Isadora would unseal the secret passageway and send Ferghus out of the bedchamber by that route. She did not know his planned course from there, and did not wish to. He promised safety for the baby, and that was all she needed to know.
When Ferghus was gone, they would send for Sebestyen. With luck, he would arrive in time to see his second child born.
“It’s not fair!’’ Liane screamed as her contraction faded.
“What isn’t fair?” Isadora remained calm as she wiped the empress’ face with a damp, cool cloth.
“Why don’t men have to go through this? Their function in procreation is all about pleasure, and then they get to sit back and relax while we grow large and ill and irritable, and then suffer for hours before our bodies are stretched in unnatural and painful ways, and a living being is torn from our wombs.”
“It is a blessing,” Isadora replied.
A single word made clear Liane’s opinion on that matter, and Isadora laughed.
“I’m serious. One day, I hope I can have a child.” With Lucan? She wasn’t sure they would be together long enough for such a miracle to occur. “Did you see Sophie with her daughter Ariana while they were here?”
“Yes,” Liane answered, her voice calmer.
“I have never seen such a pure and powerful love as that of a mother and child. We love men, on occasion, and we love our families. But this kind of love is different, and it touches the soul in a unique way. You are very lucky.”
Liane breathed deeply. “Yes, I suppose I am.” And then another contraction began. Before it became so intense that she could not speak, she caught Isadora’s eyes and held them. “The firstborn, the one Ferghus will take away...I don’t want to see him.” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t think I can bear to send him away if I do.”
Isadora nodded and grasped Liane’s hand, and the woman threw her head back and screamed.
The time was near.
Sebestyen had spent the day in his office, piddling with papers that meant nothing and snapping at everyone who dared to poke their heads into his domain. How long did it take to birth a child? Had Liane been in pain all this time? A part of him wanted to rush to Level Five and insist on being with her as she went through the ordeal.
Another part of him was perfectly happy to stay here where he did not have to watch her suffer.
When the knock came on his door, he stood up sharply. Finally! But Beorn opened the door to reveal a palace resident who had not set foot in this room for many years.
“Gadhra. What are you doing here?”
The old woman looked as a witch should, in his opinion, with long, straggling gray hair and a dress that looked like it had been made of rags. She had powers of the sort Isadora Fyne never would, and though Sebestyen did not want his fear to show, he was afraid of her.
She took one tentative step into the room. “My dreams are di
sturbing,” she said, her voice hoarse and too low.
“How is that my concern? Surely there is a potion of some sort to cure you of this ailment.”
“It is not an ailment, but a gift that disturbs my dreams,” she said, taking another step toward him.
Sebestyen signaled to Beorn, and the sentinel drew his sword.
Gadhra stopped several feet away and glanced at the threatening weapon. “I must speak to you alone, my lord.”
“That is impossible.”
“Do you trust these men with all your secrets?”
Sebestyen almost answered, “Yes,” but something stopped him.
“If you do not trust me, then hold a blade to me yourself while I say what must be said. This news is for your ears alone, my lord.”
At a subtle signal from Sebestyen, Serian handed over his sword, and the two sentinels left the room. They would remain just outside the door, he knew, and with a word they would return.
Sebestyen held the long sword so that the tip barely touched Gadhra’s throat. “What brings you here, witch?”
Her old eyes held a hint of sadness, as well as a hint of anger. “The empress means to betray you, my lord. She is plotting at this very moment to send the rightful heir to the throne away from his proper place. Away from his father.”
“She would never do such a thing,” he said, instinctively defending Liane. “I should kill you here and now for even suggesting that she would.”
“I have proof,” Gadhra said. “Come with me, quickly, and together we will save the rightful heir.”
Chapter Eleven
Lucan knew that childbirth was not a quick or easy task, so he was not surprised when Isadora did not appear at all that day. He met with Esmun in the afternoon and told him of the plan to escape. He’d expected some sort of argument from his usually hardheaded brother, but Esmun was quite ready to leave the palace and Emperor Sebestyen behind—as long as Elya came with them.
The Star Witch Page 14