The delivery of the new baby was near. Poor Sophie; she had never been one to endure suffering with grace, and she had experienced a rough night.
“I thought I would never see either of you again,” Sophie said, tears making her eyes glow. She studied Isadora’s ragged gown and Juliet’s gold eyes, and shook her head. “We have much to discuss, once we see this little girl into the world.”
“Yes, we do,” Juliet said. Her eyes and even her manner might have changed, but her amiable voice had not.
“I’m going to name her Lucinda,” Sophie said with a touch of anger in her voice. “Kane doesn’t like the name, but she was our mother, and if I’m the one who has to go through this ordeal, I should be able to name the baby whatever I want, right?”
“Of course, dear,” Kane answered.
During the next contraction, Sophie screamed. In answer, thunder cracked close by and lightning added illumination to the tent. Kane shuddered, and Isadora knew that he had suffered each pain along with Sophie during the long night.
“If I could have taken the pain for her, I would have,” he said when the scream stopped.
“Don’t be silly,” Sophie said breathlessly.
“I love you,” Kane answered.
“I love you, too, but at the moment I cannot imagine that I will ever allow you to touch me again.”
Since Kane appeared to be distressed, Isadora turned to him and mouthed, “She doesn’t mean it.”
“I do mean it!” Sophie responded, even though she had not been able to see Isadora’s mouth. That said, she relaxed. “But I will probably change my mind in the very near future.” She looked Juliet in the eye. “It’s time,” she said. “The baby is coming now.”
As if the child had been waiting for her aunts to arrive, the delivery progressed quickly. Kane held Sophie’s hand and offered words of encouragement, while Juliet and Isadora tended to the delivery of the child.
“Head,” Juliet said, as the baby crowned. “Oh, what a pretty baby. Lucinda has a little tuft of dark hair.”
“Dark?” Sophie said as she caught her breath.
“My mother had dark hair.” Kane squeezed Sophie’s hand as the next contraction began.
“Push,” Juliet ordered, and Sophie obeyed. “Head,” she said as the child was born. “Shoulders, arms...” And then Juliet held the new baby in her arms.
“Penis,” Isadora added in wonder. “Lucinda has a penis.” Sophie and Kane both reacted sharply, heads popping up.
“A son?” Kane asked.
“Fyne women do not have sons,” Sophie said. “There must be a mistake.”
Juliet held the baby high so both parents could see. The naked child squalled, cold in his new environment, so Juliet wrapped the baby snugly in a blanket and handed him to his mother.
With the birth of Sophie and Kane’s child the rain stopped with amazing suddenness. The howling wind died abruptly. There was no more thunder or lightning. As Sophie held her son, a bright and warm sun shone down upon the tent, and their world.
The new parents studied their baby with wonder, peeking at his little face beyond the blanket and smiling at one another widely. For the moment, at least, revolutions and emperors and curses were forgotten.
“We certainly cannot name him Lucinda,” Sophie said. “I have no idea what to name a boy! I never even considered names for a son, since I thought it was impossible.”
A chill walked up and down Isadora’s back. Impossible.
“Do you mind if we name him Duran?” Kane asked. “For my brother.”
Sophie nodded. “I like that name very well.” She looked down at the baby. “Duran. The name suits him, I think.” Soon Sophie put the baby Duran to her breast, and instinctively he knew to latch on. “I wonder if we will have more sons or if all our other children will be girls?” Sophie asked, completely disregarding curses and war for this moment.
“I thought you weren’t going to let me touch you ever again.”
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t mean it and you know that very well.” Sophie glanced to her red-headed sister. “I suspect Juliet could tell me. She’s much stronger than she was when last we saw her.”
Kane shook his head. “I don’t want to know everything the future holds. We will be surprised next time, like all other parents.”
There would not be a next time if the curse wasn’t broken, but Isadora felt a ray of warm hope in her heart.
Chapter Twenty
Sebestyen leaned over the cradle where his first-born son, Jahn, the next emperor of Columbyana, slept. He was growing so fast! The other one was growing, too. They had both been very small in the beginning, but he saw changes in them every day. It was a miracle either of them had survived, let alone both.
It struck him that all the miracles in his life concerned Liane and these babies. There were certainly no miracles to be had in the ruling of this country. Those closest to the emperor tried to protect him from unpleasantness, but he saw the truth. Sentinels deserted every day. The guard at the palace was always on alert, but was not what it had once been.
Arik had not yet marched on the palace, and already he was winning.
The baby woke, and the nurse in the corner stirred as if to see to him. Sebestyen shooed the woman away, and she retreated back into the corner where she had been standing and watching, and waiting for him to depart. He reached into the cradle and lifted the child. Jahn was so light, and yet he was sturdy. His eyes were bright and seemed to see everything, though the women and the priests all said babies of this age could see little or nothing with any clarity. Still, when his son looked at him, he felt as if the child saw.
The baby cooed as Sebestyen cradled him to his chest, and one little hand reached for him.
In an instant before the small hand made contact, Sebestyen had a flash of understanding. All those years he had hidden from the sun, he’d been a fool. This was the touch that would signal the end. The touch of his son. The son, the firstborn who was destined to be emperor.
There was time to move away, to catch that little arm and push it aside before the damage was done, but Sebestyen just stood there and let the small, soft hand fall on his cheek. It was a gentle, loving, innocent touch, and for all the world he would not rob himself of this moment. Was there any touch more pure and soft than that of a child? Surely not. And when that touch came from one’s own child, a miracle of life, it was surely a sign that at least in some small way, all was right with the world.
The door to the room burst open, and Father Merryl ran inside. Sebestyen had not seen the old man move so briskly in more than a decade.
“They are coming,” the old man said. “Dear Lord above, from all sides they come.”
“Who?” Sebestyen asked, but his sinking heart knew.
“Rebels from the east, Tryfyn warriors from the west. A band of half-clad warriors I cannot identify from the north, and a rebellious contingent of our own soldiers from the south.”
He did not even feign surprise. “Then it is over.”
Father Merryl shook his head. “No. We have time to get out, if we hurry.” He looked at the nursemaid who had been seeing to the basic needs of the baby in Sebestyen’s arms. “Pack what the child will need for at least three days.” He dismissed the woman as she quickly went about her chore. “We will disguise you as a servant, my lord, and together we’ll make our escape through the hidden stairs. But we must leave quickly.”
“How long before the rebels arrive?”
“We have just enough time to get you and the heir to safety.”
“No.” With the baby in his arms, Sebestyen rushed from the room.
“Where are you going?” Father Merryl shouted. “You and the child must be saved if there is to be an answer to the revolt! We don’t have the troop strength and the support now, but with time—”
“There will be no answer to this revolt,” Sebestyen shouted. “Arik can have the palace and all that comes with it.”
Father Merryl ch
ased Sebestyen into the hallway. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I can’t allow you to give up everything!” The old man grabbed at Sebestyen’s crimson robe and held fast.
Sebestyen turned and pushed the old man away. Father Merryl lost his balance and his grip and fell to the floor. “Align yourself with Arik, old man. Maybe he’ll allow you to get your parasitic hands on him. Then again, maybe he will see through you, as I did not. I should have thrown you in Level Thirteen years ago.” With that he ran...down the hallway, to the storeroom where the entrance to the hidden stairways was located, and down to the third floor. The child in his arms squirmed and mewled as Sebestyen hastened down the narrow, spiraling staircase. “Don’t worry, Jahn. Don’t cry. You’re going to see your mother.”
If the prophecy was right, there would be no saving himself, but he would get his family to safety before the palace was invaded.
Juliet's soldiers provided a diversion so that Isadora and Lucan could slip into the palace unnoticed. The guards near the entrance were so completely surprised by the large men who wore so little and carried large, sharp spears, they allowed themselves to be distracted.
Once she and Lucan were safely inside the palace, the Anwyn would retreat; that was the plan.
Thank heavens Juliet had found her before she and Lucan had returned to the palace! Not only did the Anwyn soldiers provide a safe way in, Juliet had also provided much-needed information. Not everything, never everything. But enough to make the task easier.
Both babies lived. They and their mother all resided in the palace, still, and they were all physically well. Liane was on Level Three. Juliet had not known of the Levels, but she had seen the empress surrounded by many women in blue, and she said the scent of sensuality was always in the air in this decadent place. Definitely Level Three.
As soon as they were well into the open area of Level Ten, Isadora realized that something was wrong. It took her a moment to realize what had caught her attention. In the past the low hum from Level Eleven had always been present at the ground entrance, but today all was silent. Whoever had the keeping of Level Eleven had deserted their machines, which meant neither the lift nor the light sticks would be operational.
Even if the lift had been working, she would not have used it because Lucan so disliked the contraption. They rushed for the stairs. There was not much time before the palace was overrun, and before that happened she had to get Liane and the babies out. Once they were safe, she didn’t care what happened. She didn’t care who sat on the throne, as long as the war was done and those she had sworn to protect were safe.
If sheer numbers were the answer, Sebestyen would not be emperor much longer.
She and Lucan hurried upward. Isadora’s heart thudded in her chest, and the hand that gripped the small sword he had given her was sweating.
The plan was simple. She and Lucan would rescue Liane together, and then the three of them would collect the babies. While she and Liane got the children and themselves out of the palace, Lucan would retrieve the Star of Bacwyr. That stupid ring! It was the reason he had courted her in the first place, it was the power that had drawn him to her. If not for that piece of jewelry he would not have looked at her twice.
Not such a stupid ring after all, perhaps.
They ran into three sentinels at the landing for Level Six, and Lucan dispatched them quickly and with ease. The encounter did nothing to still the pounding of Isadora’s heart. Steel on steel was loud in the enclosed stairwell, and to see the sentinels die...
She had killed two sentinels herself, this past winter. One in her home, the other in the forest as she searched for Juliet. They had deserved death, she still believed that, but those killings had also opened the door to a dark side of herself. She had put that darkness away for good, but she could never go back and undo what had been done. Thayne said that destruction was not always separate from and opposed to protection, but was a part of her gift. She did not see it as true. More, she did not feel it.
There was turmoil on Level Three. Many of the girls had already left, but a few remained. Many were very pregnant...a month or less from delivery. They were afraid, and they cried. Those who had a place to go had gone there days ago. Apparently everyone had realized that the end was coming.
As she and Lucan made their way down the hallway, Isadora issued orders. She commanded even the pregnant girls who swore they had no place to go to leave the palace now. A few complained, but they soon saw that she was serious in her directions, and they went. One man, a master-in- training named Brus, had remained, and Isadora placed him in charge of the fleeing women. Surely the guards at the palace gate would not detain the women. Besides, they were trying to keep people out of the palace, not hold them in.
No one remembered seeing Liane, and the Level Three rooms they searched were empty. Isadora was beginning to believe that she was too late. She never should have waited as Juliet had instructed. She should have come back here immediately and found Liane and the babies.
Babies. It was such a relief to know that the emperor had not killed one of his own children. Liane had believed him capable of such an act, even as she’d loved him. And yet the pain in his eyes as he’d pushed Isadora into Level Thirteen had given her hope.
A man who had no heart did not feel that kind of pain.
It was a faint cry for help that caught Isadora’s ear, and Lucan’s. They stopped in the hallway and listened, and the cry came once again, as faint as before. It was a woman’s voice, coarse and desperate.
“Here.” Lucan opened a door to a room they had already searched once. It remained undisturbed, but when the cry came again, it was clearer than before. They crossed the room, tore down a faded tapestry of a lewd nature, and revealed a hidden door.
Lucan made Isadora stand back as he opened the door on a seemingly empty chamber.
A bed dominated the room. It was mussed. Long scarves tied to the headboard and the footboard had been left dangling. The cry for help came again, and Lucan rounded the bed.
“It’s the witch,” he said.
Isadora joined him. Gadhra lay on the floor, bleeding from a wound in her side. She was half sitting up, and wiry, loose gray and white hair fell in disarray around her disheveled body.
“Who did this to you?” Lucan asked.
“The boy,” she said hoarsely. “The emperor. After all that whore did, he came here to save her. I tried to stop him, and he stabbed me.” She looked at her bloody hand in wonder, and then returned it to the wound.
“Where are they?” Isadora asked.
“I don’t know.”
Lucan assisted the witch up and onto the bed, where she sat on the edge and examined her wound. “Did he wear the ring?”
“Ring?” Gadhra asked, seemingly dazed. “What ring?”
“The Star of Bacwyr,” Lucan snapped. “It’s blue, and about so big...”
“You are blind,” the old woman said.
“Did he wear such a ring?”
“Perhaps,” she snapped, and then she looked at Isadora. “You survived.”
“No thanks to you.”
“How did you find Thayne?” The old woman smiled, as if she knew the wizard was Isadora’s father. As if she had known they would find one another in that cursed pit.
“Very well,” Isadora said without emotion. She looked up at Lucan. “Let’s go. Maybe we can catch them.”
“You’re going to leave me here?” Gadhra asked. “Patch my wound and take me with you. I’ll make myself useful.”
“The wound is not so bad,” Lucan observed. “You’ll survive.”
Gadhra coughed and fell back onto the bed, gasping for air. Lucan leaned over her, appearing more annoyed than concerned.
Beware the witch. The words popped into Isadora’s mind, and then they sprang from her mouth.
Lucan reacted to her warning just as Gadhra swung the knife she’d had hidden in her ragged attire up and toward his midsection. He shifted to one side, caught the ar
m in one strong hand, and snagged the dagger from the witch. The tip of the blade came within a hairsbreadth of his flesh.
“Why would you try to kill me?” he asked as he made use of the scarves that had apparently once been used to restrain Liane.
“Because the two of you are going to ruin everything!” the old witch spat.
“How?”
Gadhra pursed her wrinkled lips, but as Lucan and Isadora left the room, she shouted, “The boy is meant to be emperor!”
They did not ask, as they left her behind, which boy she spoke of.
Rescuing an angry woman and reuniting her with her baby was not a quick and easy task. It didn’t help matters that Liane refused to listen to a word he said. Her attention was reserved for Jahn, and she did not want to let him go. He explained to his wife that she needed to dress in a gown that was warm and appropriate for travel, but it was all but impossible to draw her attention away from the child in her arms. He helped her dress, he all but led her through every step as if she were the child. He even slipped boots onto her feet and tied them securely.
As he led Liane along narrow hidden hallways, Sebestyen explained to her that she must get out of the palace, but she seemed not to hear him. Still her attentions were all for Jahn, and he wondered if she heard him at all.
Outside the doorway to the room where Alixandyr and Mahri waited, Sebestyen stopped and turned to his wife. “I am not as heartless as you believe me to be, Liane."
“You are,” she said, not taking her eyes from her child. “You are heartless and soulless and cruel.”
He did not have time for this conversation. Her own eyes would show her the truth soon enough. He opened the door, only to find Mahri standing in the middle of the room, poised to do battle with the knife he had given her. When she recognized him, she let the knife fall. “It’s you, my lord. I thought perhaps it was the invaders.”
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