Tomorrow's Kingdom (48 page)

“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Meeka, looking up from the shift she was mending. “I certainly hope the prince consort is not caught out in this weather.”

“I hope not either,” said Persephone wryly. Since learning that Persephone and Azriel were married, Meeka had never again tried to hand-feed Azriel quail's eggs, and she'd not once gazed at him like he were a giant sweetmeat, but Persephone knew that the girl would ever be enamoured of her handsome husband.

Pulling the cozy Khan wool blanket tighter around herself, Persephone turned her attention back to the dispatch from the Marinese Elder Roark. It stated that he wished to come to Parthania to act as ambassador for his people. Persephone sighed. She knew that Miter, in particular, was going to make trouble out of this. Since the battle at the Valley of Gorg, he'd been even more insufferable than usual, taking every opportunity to remind anyone who would listen that if it weren't for him, they'd all have been annihilated. He was not going to respond well to the news that the Marinese were to have a voice on the Council when they'd contributed nothing whatsoever to the war effort.

As she pondered how best to break the news to him, Persephone heard a single knock on the door.

Casting her mistress a perplexed look—visitors normally being announced by the royal guards posted outside the chamber door—Meeka set her mending aside and went to see who was knocking.

“There is no one there, Your Majesty—not even the guards,” said Meeka as she ambled back over to the fire. “There was only this.”

Persephone smiled at the sight of the note in the girl's hand. In the six weeks since their triumphant return to Parthania, Azriel had taken to leaving little presents under her pillow and slipping her love notes when she least expected it. He said he was doing so because he'd never gotten a chance to properly court her and also because their duties left them so little time together that he feared she would someday forget him altogether.

Smiling again at the notion that she could ever forget the man who slipped into her bed each night to remind her of his presence in such delicious fashion, Persephone took the note from Meeka, eagerly unfolded it …

And felt her whole world come crashing down around her ears.

Greetings Your Majesty,

I have your husband and son. Unless you would like their scalps delivered to you within the hour, come alone to the royal harbour at once.

Flinging the note aside, Persephone bolted to her feet and was halfway to the chamber door before the note hit the floor.

“Your Majesty, what is it?” cried Meeka, dashing after her.

Persephone did not reply. Wrenching open the chamber door she tore across the ominously deserted corridor to the royal nursery. Seeing that the door was already ajar, she did not check but put down her shoulder and slammed full force into it. The door flew open with a bang to reveal the baby gone, Zdeno on his knees with a dagger in his belly, and the nursery walls awash with the blood of the three nursemaids who lay dead on the floor.

“H-he came through the window, Your Majesty,” groaned Zdeno. “I tried to stop him but h-he had a knife to the baby's belly and—”

A scream behind Persephone cut him off.

Whirling, Persephone grabbed Meeka by the arm, jerked her into the chamber and slammed the door behind her. “After I'm gone, you must bar the door and tend to Zdeno,” Persephone commanded tersely, giving Meeka a shake to make sure she was paying attention. “You're to stay here until I've returned, and you're to let no one know what has happened, do you understand? The lives of Azriel and the baby depend upon it!”

When Meeka said nothing, only continued to gaze about the chamber in shock and horror, Persephone slapped her hard across the face. Meeka gasped and her eyes snapped into focus at once.

“Will you do as I've commanded, Meeka?” demanded Persephone harshly. “Can you?”

“I … I can, Your Majesty,” replied the girl, sounding shaky but sure. “I can and will.”

Persephone was gone without another word. Knowing she'd never be able to make it to the harbour alone if she were to leave the palace through the front door dressed as she was, she returned to the royal chambers, wriggled out of her beautiful gown, threw on the shift that Meeka had been mending and, over top of this, a simple cloak of black. Pulling up the hood to hide her face, she fetched her dagger from the desk drawer and took a few seconds to re-familiarize herself with its weight and balance before slipping it into the pocket of the shift and hurrying into the bedchamber. Ducking behind the tapestry on the far wall, she found the door to the secret passageway she'd used to flee the palace after Finn died. She followed the narrow, musty-smelling passageway until she got to a small door. Pushing it open, she stepped out into the tempest. The instant she did so, she heard a horsey squeal. Glancing over, she saw Fleet standing at the gate of the corral gazing adoringly at her. When he saw that she'd noticed him, he neighed again and then waited expectantly for
her to hurry over and lavish him with praise, affection and cut turnips. But, of course, Persephone did none of these things. Instead, she turned, put her hooded head down to help cut the wind and began staggering toward the royal harbour as fast as she could.

By the time she got there, it had begun to rain. Slipping and sliding her way down to the otherwise deserted quay, she found General Murdock sitting in a rowboat that was being battered so mercilessly by the crashing waves of the rising sea that Persephone thought it must surely be swamped at any moment.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” called General Murdock over the wind. “His Grace asks that you join him on yonder ship.”

Teeth chattering with cold and fear, Persephone glanced briefly at the small merchant vessel anchored not far away, then she stepped into the rowboat. General Murdock immediately cast off and began rowing hard. The sea was a frothing beast—twice, the rowboat was hit by waves so big that they nearly capsized, and before they were halfway to the ship, Persephone had to pick up the rusty pail beneath her seat and start bailing to avoid them sinking, but at last they pulled alongside.

“After you, Your Majesty,” called General Murdock, gesturing to the hanging ladder.

Hands shaking so badly she could hardly hang onto the wet rungs, Persephone forced herself to climb. She was almost at the top of the ladder when, over the sound of the storm, she heard the baby crying. As she scrambled up and over the deck rail, her mind registered the fact that
Azriel and Mordecai were there, but her entire being was focused on Baby Finn. He was lying naked on a pile of rags inside an open wooden chest. The chest was sitting on a spindly legged table whose top was even with the starboard deck rail. Even as she started toward it, a particularly large wave crashed against the ship, causing her to stagger and sending the chest sliding toward the unprotected edge.

“I wouldn't go any nearer if I were you, Your Majesty,” sang Mordecai, who was standing at the end of the table. Slipping his hands under the tabletop, he managed to lift it just enough to send the chest sliding a few inches more.

Persephone froze. Wrenching her gaze away from Baby Finn, she locked eyes with Azriel, who was standing not far from her with his hands tied behind his back.

Mordecai caught the look they shared. “Ah!” he crooned as General Murdock walked over to stand beside Azriel. “Young love. It warms the heart. It really does.”

“What do you want, Mordecai?” shouted Persephone.

“I want many things,” he shouted back. “But you have taken them all from me, and so now all that I want is to give you a choice.”

Guessing what was coming, Persephone began to shake her head.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” said Mordecai in a jolly voice. “The choice involves the lives of your beloved husband and son—though I regret to inform you that it is not a simple matter of choosing one or the other. Rather, it is a matter of choosing one or both.”

Another wave hit the ship; the chest slid again.

Baby Finn kicked his little legs and cried piteously.

“If you will order the death of the Gypsy right here and now and then watch in silence as your orders are carried out, I shall command General Murdock to row you and the brat back to shore at once,” explained Mordecai as Murdock drew a large knife from the scabbard at his belt. “Fail to give the order and you shall
still
bear witness to the cockroach's well-deserved execution but thereafter you shall also watch me shut the lid of the chest, and then you shall sit by my side that together we may enjoy the cries of your infant son as he slowly suffocates to death.”

Persephone said nothing, only searched her mind frantically for a way to save Azriel
and
the baby.

Another wave. A few more inches.

Suddenly, Azriel's voice interrupted her thoughts. “Wife, there is no sense losing me and the baby both,” he said with that little lopsided smile she knew so well.

“What he says is exactly so,
wife
!” cried Mordecai, clapping his gnarled hands together.

“Say what you must, Persephone,” said Azriel, his gaze steady upon her face. “Say it now.”

“
YES
!” cried Mordecai, who was fairly shrieking with excitement. “
YES
,
PERSEPHONE
!
SAY
IT
NOW
!”

For the sake of her son, Persephone tried to say it, she really did. Once, twice, three times she opened her mouth and then closed it again without uttering a word. Finally, feeling as though her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces, she shook her head.

She was strong and brave enough to do many things, but she was not strong and brave enough to do this.

Mordecai's happy countenance vanished at once. And with an expression that said he'd always known that she didn't have what it took to be queen, he nodded at General Murdock who, before Persephone's disbelieving eyes, casually plunged the knife deep into Azriel's belly.

SIXTY-SEVEN

T
HE INSTANT MURDOCK
slid the knife out of Azriel's belly, a rogue wave smashed into the ship. As the ship listed sickeningly, the lid of the wooden chest snapped shut and the chest slid into the sea. Azriel and General Murdock were both flung off their feet, but while the General was able to stop himself at the starboard deck rail, Azriel slammed into Persephone, who'd lunged for the chest and missed. The force of the impact sent both her and Azriel toppling backward off the ship.

She managed to grab a handful of his shirt as they fell but it was torn from her grasp as they plunged into the raging sea. Water filled Persephone's eyes, her ears, her mouth; blind and choking, she thrashed this way and that in the churning madness in the hope of finding Azriel. Just before the urge to breathe overwhelmed her, her fingers touched hair. Grabbing hold, she kicked hard toward the surface. Rolling onto her back even before she'd taken her first gasping breath, she heaved Azriel's head out of the water and frantically looked around for the wooden chest. She was terrified that she'd see fragments of it floating nearby. Or worse, that she'd see no sign of it at all and she'd know that it had sunk to the bottom of the sea.

By some miracle, however, it had not shattered
or
sunk but was bobbing toward shore. More miraculously still, from within the chest she could clearly hear the sound of Baby Finn crying.

The fall from the ship had not killed him and the airtight chest that had been intended to suffocate him had saved him from drowning.

He was safe—for the moment.

Turning her attention back to Azriel and her own rapidly diminishing strength, Persephone was chilled to see that the water around them had already turned red with his blood.

“Azriel!” shouted Persephone, her voice sharp with panic.

“I'm … here,” he said tiredly.

Refusing to acknowledge that this was
exactly
how Rachel had sounded in her final moments of life, Persephone threw one arm across Azriel's chest and, keeping her ears locked on the sound of the baby's cry, she began kicking as hard as she could. As she struggled desperately to get Azriel to shore, the winds howled, and the rains beat down, and the salt spray filled her lungs, causing her to splutter and gasp. Mercifully, the storm waves that were surging ever more powerfully helped rather than hindered their progress. Indeed, being able to rest and ride these waves forward was the only reason they
made it to shallow water before Persephone's strength gave out.

Too breathless and exhausted to speak, she dragged Azriel up onto shore, rolled him onto his side and, using her dagger, sliced the rope that bound his hands behind his back. As he rolled back over, the sight of his deathly pale face and gaping belly wound made Persephone's heart shrivel, but she did not linger. Splashing back into the water, she grabbed the wooden chest inside which Baby Finn was still crying—though not quite so hard. Dragging it up onto shore, she unlatched the lid and saw him lying half-buried in the pile of rags that had almost certainly protected him from being bashed to death by his fall from the ship.