Kiss of the Virgin Queen

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Kiss of the Virgin Queen Page 15

by Sharon Buchbinder


  His words exploded from his lips, filling the room with his anger.

  “What of your promises to your father and your kingdom to remain a virgin queen?” He twisted the hem of his garment with both hands. “You betrayed them both. How could you do this? You were supposed to come home, not stay here the rest of your life. Have you forgotten Sheba?”

  A quiver of heated arrows flew from her lips. “How dare you. I was born to serve Sheba. All I do is to serve Sheba and my father’s blessed memories. You urged me to come here to meet the wise King Solomon, remember? Then he ordered me to come to his court. To show myself. What choice did he give me? Our kingdom’s survival hung on my obedience.”

  He shook his head. “You have changed. You would have never spoken to me like this before. So bitter, resentful. You, of all people, should know what you owe your kingdom.”

  “What about me? What do I owe myself? Don’t I ever get to be happy? Can’t I be in love and still be a queen?”

  He fell to his knees, bowed his head, and wept.

  “I have always loved you and could never marry you. You were the night sky, the moon and the stars, beautiful, smart, and beyond my reach.”

  Her vision blurred. She knelt before him and took his hands in hers. “Please don’t hate me. I never expected to succumb to Solomon, to give my heart to any man. He is all you said he was and more. I consider you my brother. Don’t abandon me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There can only be one reason for this wedding. You are with child.”

  She dropped his hands. “What if I were?”

  “Then you would not be able to be Queen of Sheba at the moment when we need you most.” His glare burned into her soul even as his jaw locked into a hard line.

  Her heart flew into her throat. “What is wrong?”

  “Wogesha says the blackwater demons visit your uncle because you did not return to Sheba. He fears for your uncle’s life.”

  She put her face in her hands. First her father, now her uncle. Was there no end to these demons and their torture?

  “Your grief will not force the demons to depart. Only your return to Sheba and taking back your throne can do that.” Bitterness crept into Tamrin’s voice. “But you are no longer a virgin and are about to marry a foreign king. You cannot be our queen. You may as well send a host of evil jinnis to destroy your kingdom.”

  Rage possessed her. She leaped to her feet and walked away from the man, lest she strike him. “You know nothing of evil jinnis, you stupid, jealous boy. This past year, each day an evil jinni filled with lust followed me. He wanted my sacred maiden-head, my virginity. Do you know who saved me? A shape-shifting lion. Yes, a man who can become a lion roared at him and drove him away. My beloved forced the jinni into an iron bottle with his seals.”

  Tamrin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

  “We weighted the jar with rocks and threw him into the Dead Sea. He is gone. Never to be released again. Would you prefer me to be taken by that creature?”

  Shamed, her childhood friend cast his eyes down and shook his head.

  “I watched King Solomon govern for over a year. He has shown me the way to be a good ruler and be happy. His invisible god has blessed him and is my God now, too. When I return to Sheba, I will still be queen and the nation will bow down to Adonai, who makes all things possible. He even made a queen wise enough to understand her virginity was never about being pure, but about waiting for her destiny.”

  Tamrin’s shoulders shook, and his voice traveled to her on a sad sigh. “Will the wedding festival still take place?”

  Captured by the power of the Lord, who surely spoke through her, she failed to recall that she was to appear at the ceremony to seal the union between the nations, even as she and Solomon sealed their love match the night before. Her wedding day joy plunged to despair. Two—no three hearts would be broken today. Sheba called. And she must go.

  ****

  The rams’ horns sounded, again and again. But instead of joy, they announced Solomon’s sorrow to the world. He told his mother to feed the visitors and the guests, give them wine until they staggered home or passed out. It mattered naught to him. The person who understood him as a man and as a ruler, who made his heart leap with joy each morning he arose, the only woman he ever loved was leaving. Tears blurred his vision, and he wanted to howl with the pain that tore at his heart like a vulture.

  He wanted her. She wanted him.

  She could not stay. He could not go.

  Only God knew what was to become of them.

  Makeda, surrounded by a whirl of packing servants, wore the white garb she arrived in one year ago. Her purple dress, bedecked with emeralds and gold, lay across the bed, like a shriveled corpse of their nuptials.

  He clasped her hand with his. “I cannot live without you. I will come with you.”

  She shook her head. “For a wise man, you are sounding foolish, my heart. You are needed here. If you leave, who will rule in your stead? Rehoboam? He is but a child and a spoiled one, at that. Israel needs you. The Temple remains incomplete. God will not be pleased if you don’t obey Him.”

  His throat closed and choked his voice. “If only you could stay with me. Tamrin wants you for himself. What if he is lying about your uncle?”

  “I ordered my women to spy on his caravan. All the travelers were talking about my uncle’s illness. It is true.” She removed her necklace, a gold medallion embossed with a pomegranate. “Keep this to remember me always.”

  He clasped it in his hand. “I will never take it off. I have something for you.”

  “My love, you gave me all I desired.”

  “After I left you, I returned to my chambers and napped. I dreamed of a brilliant sun which shone on Israel for years. And then it flew away to Sheba and stayed there in all its brightness, forever. I wanted the sun to come back to Israel, but it would not return to us. You are my light, my sun.”

  She sighed. “Solomon, I must go.”

  “You cannot go without my gifts. Everything that you wish for of splendid apparel, and riches are yours. Camels and six thousand wagons laden with beautiful things will go with you, along with a dozen of my finest horses, female and male so you will possess the best breeding stock. My soldiers will guard your route and oversee your journey to your border. Your throne will be returned to your land by another jinni.”

  “It is enough. Your love is enough.” Tears filled her eyes. “God sends us on a journey we cannot understand. Only He sees the plan.”

  Solomon took off one of his rings and pressed it into Makeda’s palm. “Take this to remember me. If the seed I planted in your womb is a boy, send him to me when he is a man. This ring shall be a sign he is the child born of our love.”

  She stared at the ring. “I will wear it always, and give it to our son when the time is right.”

  Unable to bear watching his beloved leave, he pressed his lips upon her forehead and said, “May God protect you and our child. Go in peace and know I will love you forever.”

  Solomon knocked into servants as he strode out of the room. He needed to be alone. The hills called him to return to the place where God first spoke to him and gifted him. He needed to go to Gibeon.

  Benaiah caught up to Solomon as he rode toward the gates of Jerusalem. “Where are you going? You can’t leave the city without a royal guard.”

  Solomon snarled at his captain. “I’m sure you and your men are happy now Makeda is leaving. Forgive me if I don’t join you in rejoicing.” He kicked the horse’s flanks, ignoring the animal’s startled protest. He was too hurt, too angry, to pay attention to anyone else’s aches. His anguish was greater. The love match he prayed for had come and now she was leaving.

  God laughs at our plans.

  Benaiah shouted at men to mount their horses and follow the king.

  Solomon’s thoughts were a tumbled well of despair. Let the Philistines attack him, his heart had already been ripped out of his chest. Little was left of him now but
an empty urn. He rode hard and furious, the wind tearing at his face, his eyes leaking. Sobs racked his body. Never again would he find such a woman, such a love. Beautiful, smart, gifted, noble, everything any man could wish for in one angelic form.

  Makeda, Makeda, Makeda. Makeda.

  The horse’s hooves pounded her name into his heart and soul. He shouted his rage into the wind and screamed “Why?” to the skies. Flocks of birds flew in disarray, shrieking their dismay at his pain. The roars of lions disturbed from their rest echoed his anguish. All the animals in his kingdom twisted, writhed, and groaned with his agony.

  He came to a stream and allowed his winded stallion to drink deeply. Regret for his harsh treatment of the loyal steed nibbled at his conscience. He stroked the animal’s flanks and apologized for his cruel behavior. The horse shook his mane and continued to drink. In the distance, Benaiah’s men shouted and called his name. Solomon washed his face and hands with the cool water and sat on a rock. What was this place? He’d traveled the width and breadth of the land, yet this area was strange to him. Silence folded around him like a blanket and he felt the presence of God.

  “Solomon.” The Lord’s small voice spoke to him. “Why do you despair?”

  “My Lord, do you not behold my anguish? You give me soaring happiness and the depths of grief on the same day. Why do you do this to me?”

  “Do you love me above all other gods?”

  “Yes, you know I worship you alone.”

  “Then why do you build shrines to others?”

  Solomon shook his head. “I’m building a Temple for you.”

  “What of the others? The ones in Jerusalem. The ones your wives keep.”

  He covered his face with his hands. “I must marry to make alliances. I need to be tolerant of other ways, other religions. It is how I keep my borders and my people safe.”

  The Lord’s small voice grew louder, displeasure coating each word. “Did you not listen to your father as he lay dying? Did the great King David not tell you to walk in the ways of the Lord at all times?”

  “I keep the Sabbath, I observe your laws. Your priests and prophets control Israel. Isn’t that enough? Let the women have their Asherahs. They are nothing more than wooden dolls. They are powerless, they are nothing like you.”

  “The Queen of Sheba now worships me and promised her nation will worship me, too. If the woman you say you love can do this for me, why can’t you, my favorite among men?”

  Solomon rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. Did Adonai think the goddess a rival?

  “You took Makeda from me because women worshipped their own gods? I cannot think, cannot breathe, and cannot eat, for grieving over her. You gave me my greatest joy and punished me by ripping it out of my hands on my wedding day. I hungered and thirsted for this soul mate. You placed a feast before me, and then took it away. I’m a man who sees water in the desert and drinks sand, thanks to you. My God is a jealous god, indeed.”

  He closed his eyes and wished he’d brought his sharpest sword to fall upon.

  Someone touched his shoulder. He threw his hand behind him. “Cut my throat. Please. You will end my sorrow and pain. I cannot bear to live another day.”

  “My king, I would not harm a hair on your head, nor would I allow anyone else to hurt you.”

  Solomon opened his eyes. Benaiah knelt beside him, his sun-bronzed face lined with sorrow.

  “I bring terrible news about your mother.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Summertown, Present Day

  Eliana decided the only good thing about the hot, humid environment of West Virginia was if they found radiation contamination victims who needed to be hosed down, they wouldn’t complain about the temperature of the sixty-five degree fire hydrant water. Sweat dripped inside her bulky personal protective equipment, or PPE, and she knew it was only a matter of time before Rob Pearson, the Incident Commander, insisted Eliana and the other agents rotate out. So far, only the pregnant and the deceased werewolf girls had shown anything above normal background radiation. The deceased girl’s body emitted over three-hundred rem.

  Per the CDC and the Radiation Emergency Medical Management algorithms, in humans the risk of hemorrhaging commenced at one-hundred rem. A radiation induced miscarriage was not out of the question. To the best of the knowledge of the experts at the CDC, however, there were no studies on the effects of radiation exposure among werewolves. Had the radiation caused the miscarriage—or something else? At any rate, they had to prevent her from exposing more people. The deceased girl’s body now sat at the local funeral home in a lead lined coffin, awaiting a memorial service and placement in the Adalwolf family crypt.

  Containing the dangerous radiation in the lead-lined coffin was a rule straight out of the radiation management textbook.

  Managing the surviving pregnant werewolf’s condition, on the other hand, was not. Upon admission to the hospital the night before, the girl was diagnosed with dehydration, exposure, and hyperemesis gravidarum. Unable to keep any food or fluids down, she was on continuous intravenous fluids. Eliana surveyed the girl with her radioisotope identifier, or RID, and did a double-take.

  That couldn’t be right.

  She keyed her helmet radio. “Novak, could you come over here for a minute? I need you to check something.”

  Encased in PPE, the Chief waved to an ambulatory patient to move on to the cold triage for minimal care. She lumbered over to Ellie. “What’s up?”

  Eliana pointed to the blonde on the gurney. “Would you survey Brigette for me please?”

  Eyes wide, tears trickled down the side of Brigette’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Chief Novak is just checking with her equipment to see if mine is working correctly.”

  Hands on her abdomen, a sheet draped across her torso over her hospital gown, Brigette’s bruised and scratched arms and legs gave mute witness to her escape through the thick forest the night before. Ellie’s heart went out to her. The girl had been through so much. To make matters worse, she was pregnant with her rapist’s baby and suffering from debilitating nausea and vomiting. What could be worse than that?

  Novak passed the wand over Brigette’s head, down her neck to her shoulders. The instrument clicked at twice the normal rate. “Arms by your side, palms up, please.”

  Brigette complied and Novak continued her examination. She approached the young woman’s abdomen, and the clicking increased in frequency. The noise grew louder when she placed the wand directly over the baby bump. Novak moved the wand down to the girl’s legs, and the noise ebbed. The roar of angry crickets re-commenced when she moved back to the baby bump.

  The girl trembled and sobbed, “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Brigette, you’re contaminated with radioactive material. We think it might just be on the surface. We need to scrub you down.” The girl attempted to sit up. Eliana placed a hand on Brigette’s shoulder. “You’re too sick to do it yourself. We’ll do it for you.”

  She called for a physician to supervise the proceeding and for another female to assist them. Novak rolled the gurney into the decontamination tent and elevated her so the water would run off. The team divvied up the girl into quadrants using her waistline for demarcation of zones. They washed, rinsed, and wiped each section of the girl’s body using soap, water, and soft sponges. Once wiped, the girl was showered using the same approach. After the front surfaces were cleansed, they rolled the girl onto her side and the process was repeated. Every effort was made to preserve her modesty and to assist her when bouts of vomiting overcame her. After she was completely decontaminated, and the wash water was collected for processing and disposal, Eliana surveyed her again.

  Dammit. The meter showed a modest decrease, but not a significant one.

  Three-hundred rem. How could that be? She should be sicker, with uncontrollable bleeding in her mouth.

  She wrapped a second blanket around Brigette. The girl smiled, nodded, then stiffened. Brigette frowned, arched her b
ack, and closed her eyes, and began to shake so hard, Eliana feared she’d fall. The blankets slid to the ground as Brigette thrashed, and Eliana struggled to keep the girl from sliding off the end of the gurney.

  The PPE encased physician lumbered away and returned in a few minutes with a crash cart and a Rapid Response Team. He removed his heavy rubber gloves, beneath which were latex gloves, and injected an anticonvulsant. A nurse took her vital signs and checked her IV. Gradually, the thrashing stopped, the labored breathing slowed, and the girl appeared to sleep.

  Eliana stepped back to give the team room and gasped. The baby bump was larger than it had been just thirty minutes before.

  Things could be worse. Not only was the girl pregnant by her rapist, but the were-jinni was growing at an exponential rate. To top it all off, Brigette wasn’t suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum. She was suffering from acute radiation sickness, ARS. Based on the survey readings, the girl’s onset of vomiting, and the neurological involvement, a human would be given less than forty-eight hours to live. But Brigette was a werewolf.

  Not only were there no studies of werewolves and radiation, she had no idea how they regenerated so quickly from wounds. At first she thought this was only an act of revenge, a blood feud from biblical times. Did the jinni know the werewolves were super-healers, resistant to the effects of radiation that would kill humans? At any rate, he acquired a double dip with Brigette—a robust breeding vessel and revenge.

  She passed the wand over the girl’s belly one more time, and the clicks of enraged crickets burst into the air. Would the baby survive or succumb to the radiation? Or was the were-jinni the source of the radiation?

  Whatever the outcome, right now they had to get Brigette into a lead-shielded space, like an X-ray room, draw blood samples to assess the radiation dose, obtain urine and fecal samples to determine if there were other isotopes at play, and begin treatment with Prussian blue to counteract the cesium. If they could get the Prussian blue into her. If the girl lived the thirty days for the drug to attach to the radioactive isotope and drag it out of the girl’s body. If the were-jinni didn’t explode from the girl’s abdomen like a scene out of a sci-fi horror movie. If she survived, would Brigette be able to mother a newborn were-jinni? Would she want to mother the infant?

 

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