The Fallen Queen

by Jane Kindred

  “The baby is right where it’s supposed to be, my lord.” Belphagor

  took his arm to lead him to the couch. “I think we need to get you a

  stronger drink than tea.”

  Kae flung Belphagor away and leapt at me too quickly for me

  to cry out. He threw me into the chair he’d been seated in and stared

  down at me in a blind rage. “Whose spawn is this inside your womb?”

  I stared aghast, and he struck my face.

  “Answer me, Ola! This charade has gone far enough. You accuse

  me of infidelity. Then while I’m away, you do this, cuckolding me before the entire Firmament.” Tears sprang to his eyes, and before I could say a word, he dropped to his knees and threw his arms about my waist,

  his head against my belly. “Please,” he wept. “If someone has taken

  advantage of you, you must tell me. I promise to care for the child as if it were my own, but I must know the truth.” He met my gaze and his

  eyes were the warm and tender grey of my childhood playmate. “You

  must know how desperately I love you, Ola.”

  I couldn’t bear this, and when he took me in his arms, I began to

  weep. Kae kissed my damp cheeks and eyelids, and then pulled back,

  touching the moisture on his lips with a look of dawning horror. He

  was flushed and sweating, and his temperature seemed to be rapidly

  rising.

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  “Nenny?” he breathed, sitting back on his heels. “Help me, Nenny.

  Please help me.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand, too horrified to respond.

  Belphagor stepped forward and lifted Kae to his feet. My cousin

  collapsed in his arms, eyes rolling back in his head, and Belphagor

  swept him up with a strength I hadn’t known he possessed and carried

  him to the couch, where my cousin began to convulse.

  Belphagor held Kae’s arms at his sides, trying to keep him still.

  “He’s burning up. Has he ever had fits before?”

  I shook my head. “It looks just like the febrile seizures Azel

  used to have, but I didn’t think adults could have them.” I supposed

  anything was possible under Aeval’s influence. I went to the couch

  and pressed my trembling hand to Kae’s forehead. He was hotter than

  Vasily at the peak of arousal. “Belphagor,” I whispered. “What should

  I do? He was… ”

  “I heard him,” he said as Kae continued to jerk in his hold. “But

  there will be nothing to do if his fever doesn’t lower. His body cannot sustain this strain.”

  A tray of summer fruits rested in crushed ice on the tea table. I

  grabbed a handful of the ice and pressed it to Kae’s brow.

  “The chest.” Belphagor tore open the buttons on Kae’s shirt. “We

  need to cool his blood.”

  I scooped up more ice and thrust it inside the garment. Kae

  stopped convulsing and tossed fitfully, knocking the ice to the couch.

  Before I could get more, the doors burst open.

  Aeval stood in her riding costume, mud still on her boots, her eyes

  shining with something akin to fear. “What have you done to him?”

  Pushing us out of the way, she knelt beside the couch and touched

  Kae’s burning face. “What have they done to you, my angel?” She

  pressed her lips against his forehead, and his color began to change

  immediately, a cool pallor spreading from her touch. She kissed his

  cheeks and mouth, and he began to breathe more regularly, until at

  last he only appeared to sleep.

  Aeval turned on me, her face white with fury. “What did you do to

  him? What did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything. We were playing cards.” I glanced at the

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  table on the floor among the scattered cards and chips. “He’s not a

  very good loser.”

  Without warning, the crop Aeval held in her right hand came down

  like a hot knife on my shoulder. I shrieked and turned instinctively to cover my belly, so that her next blow fell on my back. I stumbled to my knees, and in a rage, she struck me repeatedly.

  “Your Supernal Majesty,” said Belphagor. “I think you’ve made

  your point. She’s had enough.”

  Aeval lashed him across the face with the crop. “Do you give me

  orders now, pet?” Belphagor stood still, ignoring the blood trickling

  over his cheek. The queen drew the crop down his bare throat and

  over his silk shirt to his waist, then grasped his face between the

  fingers of her other hand and kissed him with a passion that made me

  blush. When she released him, she struck the crop against his groin.

  Belphagor hissed air between his teeth, but stood straight.

  “Are you angry?” Aeval pressed the crop beneath his chin, her

  eyes flashing with dark emotion. “Have I finally discovered something

  that arouses your passion?”

  His head gave a slight shake. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?” Aeval tilted her head curiously.

  “Please, Your Supernal Majesty.”

  “What’s the matter, pet? Are you ashamed of your desire?” She

  snaked the crop over his shirt once more, drawing my gaze downward.

  The demon was hard with arousal.

  Disgusted, I tore my gaze away. Apparently, Vasily didn’t know

  Belphagor as well as he thought.

  Aeval laughed the high, tinkling laugh I’d heard on my ride with

  Azel. “Wait here for me, Belphagor.”

  “Here?”

  “Oh, yes. Here.” She gripped me by the hair and hauled me from

  the room.

  I struggled, but couldn’t pry open her steel grip. She dragged me

  behind her like a sack of garbage, with the Ophanim following close

  behind. In this manner, Aeval returned me to my little room at the

  opposite end of the wing, where the liberated chambermaid stood

  sullenly by the door. She had a blackened eye. I wondered whether I’d

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  done it, or the queen.

  Aeval dropped me by the bed and turned to the waiting Ophanim.

  “You are to stand guard at this door day and night. Chain her to the

  bed frame so she doesn’t have any more foolish ideas.” She eyed

  me with a strange mixture of anger and amusement. “Her Supernal

  Highness is far madder than We realized. I fear it may be necessary to deliver the child prematurely before she does it any harm.”

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  Dvadtsat Chetvertoe: Under the Knout

  Aeval appeared at the door of Kae’s suite, cool and composed in

  a sleek platinum gown with a graceful train in place of her muddied

  riding costume. Belphagor stood and bowed at her entrance. Lying

  beside him on the couch, the principality didn’t stir.

  “Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

  Belphagor blanched. Had she found out?

  “Do you think it so simple to turn the principality against me?”

  It was only Kae she meant. He relaxed. “I’ve done nothing, Your

  Supernal Majesty. The principality became agitated when the game

  didn’t go his way. He fixated on Her Supernal Highness the grand

  duchess and fell into some kind of fit.”

  “Her Supernal Highness the grand duchess,” snapped Aeval.

  “Who had beaten her chambermaid and escaped her room to come

  here. You were bidden to entertain Our consort, not subject him to t
he madwoman who nearly killed him once before.”

  Belphagor bit his tongue to keep from challenging her insistence

  on this fiction. “His Supernal Majesty asked Her Supernal Highness

  to join us when the Ophanim discovered her in the hall.” He glanced

  over at the poor devil. “Shouldn’t we let him rest?”

  “Again, you presume to advise me.” Aeval crossed the room, her

  train swirling like the tail of a snake, and slapped him with her open hand. “He will rest until I say he will not. His element is easily called.”

  She leaned over Kae and ran her fingers through his damp hair. “Do

  you want to know why I asked you to wait here?” Her smile didn’t

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  bode well. “The principality does my bidding, which you do not seem

  to have grasped. I believe it may be time for a demonstration of his

  devotion.”

  Belphagor paled when Aeval began to undo the buttons on his

  shirt. “Your Supernal Majesty. I have no wish to cause the principality pain.”

  “Not to worry, dear Belphagor.” She spun him around and slipped

  the ivory shirt from his shoulders. “You will not be causing him pain.”

  She reached around and unbuttoned Belphagor’s trousers, and the

  bone linen dropped to his ankles. “Step out of them and go to the bed.”

  Belphagor hesitated. His resistance would cost him later, but he

  wasn’t prepared to take the game to this level. It was one thing for him to bargain his body and his pride for the concessions he won from her.

  It was quite another to participate in someone else’s humiliation—

  especially a man who wasn’t in control of his own will.

  Aeval’s mouth flattened in warning. There would be a heavy price

  to pay if he defied her, and it might well be Anazakia who paid. He

  obeyed reluctantly and stopped by the bed.

  “Now face the wall and wait for me.”

  Belphagor turned slowly and stared at the far wall.

  “I’ve seen you looking at my angel.” Her voice sparkled with

  amusement. “You would far rather yield to his touch than to mine.”

  “No, my queen. I belong utterly to you.”

  “And you’d best not forget it, demon. Nevertheless, your desire

  remains for the touch of men.” Her dress rustled at the couch where

  the principality lay. “Wake up, my love.”

  “My queen?” murmured Kae.

  “You’ve had a fit,” she soothed. “A relapse from your ordeal. I

  blame myself. I should not have allowed the demon to convince me to

  give that mad girl liberties. She’s been restrained, as she should have been from the beginning.”

  When she brought him close behind Belphagor, the principality

  made a sound of protest.

  “What is he doing?” His voice was hesitant, not quite awake, and

  didn’t yet have its usual bitterness.

  “Waiting for what he deserves, and for you to give it to him.”

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  “Me?”

  Aeval lifted Belphagor’s arms, extending them toward the

  bedposts, barely within his reach. “Hold tight.”

  “Your Supernal Majesty,” Belphagor pleaded under his breath. “I

  beg you not to do this to him.”

  “You should worry more about what he’s going to do to you,

  my pet.” She stepped back to whisper in Kae’s ear before she spoke

  aloud. “Come, my prince.” She lifted her train to sit at the head of the bed. “Show this demon how devoted you are to me and do what I’ve

  bidden you.” Her eyes were merry.

  “What are all these drawings on his skin?” Kae sounded more

  himself, though he seemed to be stalling.

  “Tattoos from the world of Man. They mark him as what he is.”

  Aeval met Belphagor’s eyes with dark pleasure. “Aim for the crown.”

  It took Belphagor completely by surprise when the leaded flogger

  struck him. He groaned and swung forward, his grip nearly slipping

  from the iron posts.

  With a melodic laugh, Aeval clapped her hands together in front

  of her lips and fell over the pillows like a schoolgirl hearing a delicious secret. “Oh, if you could only see your face! That’s one, demon. Do not neglect to count the rest or he may have to start over.”

  Kae swung again. The lead shot braided into the tails pounded

  Belphagor’s shoulders.

  “Two,” said Belphagor between his teeth, gripping the posts.

  Aeval crossed her feet in the air behind her. “The flogger is a

  souvenir from your favorite place,” she said with delight. “A Russian

  pleti. Did they ever beat you with one at Kresty?”

  Belphagor knew better than to ignore a direct question. “Yes, Your

  Supernal—Majesty. Three.” The principality seemed to be getting into

  a rhythm. “Four.”

  “What about the knut? Were you ever beaten with one of those?”

  “Five. Before my time.” He stiffened under the next strike. “Six.”

  “Not before mine.” Smiling, she watched him jerk beneath Kae’s

  correction while he continued to count aloud. “I have seen many

  men beaten in the world of Man.” She rested her chin on her hands.

  “Ah, look at you, Belphagor. Hardly able to stand and yet I see your

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  curiosity burning. Oh, that was a rather splendid one, my prince. Strike him there again.”

  Belphagor’s limbs began to shake. He tried to stay focused, but

  Aeval’s voice seemed to float somewhere above her.

  “It was once my privilege to oversee such things,” she went on.

  “To see faithless men punished.”

  “Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.” Belphagor cried out, no longer concerned with his pride. The blows rained down harder and

  faster, and he fumbled on the count.

  “But there is so little justice in the world of Man,” continued

  Aeval, her words punctuated by his agonized and jumbled counting.

  “It began to tire me, and Heaven seemed ripe for a revolution.”

  He began to lose his grip, his knees buckling against the foot of

  the bed.

  Her eyes sparkled. “Ah, superb. Well done, my angel.”

  Belphagor tried to catch up on the missed counts, his concentration

  blurring. “Forty,” he gasped, and collapsed against the bed, clutching the bedclothes. He tried to continue, but couldn’t think of the next

  number. Again and again the principality beat him, until the room

  began to go black.

  “Enough for now.” Aeval spoke from what seemed a great distance

  before he lost consciousness. Then she was behind him, pulling him

  up by his hair to yank him back to reality. “Poor Belphagor,” she

  whispered in his ear. “How nobly you anticipated your punishment

  when you thought you knew what it would be.” She laughed against

  his temple. “Did you really think I’d let him fuck you?”

  Aeval let his head drop forward, fingers caressing the screaming

  flesh of his back as if she were painting in his blood. “It might interest you to know how my precious angel acquired such a talent for your

  art.” She dug her nails in like a cat prodding a mouse to struggle a bit more before the fun was over. Belphagor screamed. “He practiced on

  the stable boy. I’m afraid those notes you gave the little demon are

  rather too bloody to deliver.”

  §

  For all her dismissal of
the existence of the other world, Love

  was an expert at making contact with it. Faced with continuing silence

  THE FALLEN QUEEN 249

  from Elysium, Vasily was determined to find someone else who could

  get him into Heaven. Only one faction among the Fallen knew more

  about the portals between the spheres than Belphagor. Vasily had

  tasked Love with finding the Grigori, a race not even most angels

  believed in.

  Belphagor’s friend Dmitri claimed to be descended from the

  original Fallen. Though he’d never set foot in Heaven, Dmitri was a pureblooded earthspirit of the Order of Powers. By celestial law, however, he was a demon. His ancestors had been cast out, and as far as Heaven was concerned, they were Fallen, no matter how pure their blood.

  The Exiles’ crime had been wholly ordinary. Sent to observe

  humanity and see what this world had to offer, and to exchange

  knowledge where it seemed beneficial to Heaven, they’d broken one

  of Heaven’s cardinal rules: angelic blood was not to be mixed, and

  most certainly not with the inferior blood of Man.

  The pureblooded descendants of those exiled Powers—those

  whose lines descended directly, without human blood—called

  themselves Grigori, or The Watchers, the name their ancestors had

  been given. Vasily understood there weren’t many like Dmitri; the

  pure line produced far more males than females. The larger number

  of Exiles by far were the Nephilim, born of the illicit unions between angels and Men.

  The Exiles were a secretive lot, and even Belphagor didn’t know

  how many of them existed. Given their claim that the Grigori had

  fallen when the world was new, however, their numbers were believed

  to be considerable. Vasily hoped one of them might put him in contact

  with the Grigori chieftain.

  Love not only managed to find someone who knew Dmitri Ilyich

  and recognized the name of Belphagor when she provided it, she

  found a contact among the Nephilim—a race whose existence even

  Vasily had doubted. After a brief exchange, Dmitri agreed to arrange

  a meeting with the chieftain. Members of both clans had done time

  with Belphagor over the years in the prison system inmates called the

  zona. Their code of honor wouldn’t allow them to ignore the plight of a fellow thief in trouble.

  Knud and Vasily were to meet the chieftain in St. Petersburg.

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