The Fallen Queen Read online

  I knelt before her, resting my head in her lap. We enveloped her in

  sisterly commiseration, four sets of honey curls draped together while Ola wept. There were no closer sisters than we four were then.

  “I’m sorry, Nazkia,” Ola whispered after a moment. Tatia held her

  and Maia stroked her arm. “I must be losing my mind. I know you

  would never… ”

  “Hush, Ola,” I said gently.

  “Kae would never betray you,” Maia assured her.

  “He’s mad for you.” Tatia dabbed at Ola’s eyes with her kerchief.

  “Another matter is preoccupying him. You’ll see.”

  Ola shook her head, on the verge of tears once more. “He rides

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  out every morning before I wake and stays out past dark. I heard him

  speaking of ‘ her.’” She pushed Tatia’s kerchief away and swallowed.

  “He has a mistress. I know it.”

  Little Azel bounded up the grand staircase then and leapt upon

  us, and Ola recovered herself and caught him in her arms.

  Our mother followed from the landing, her stride quick and

  anxious, and peeled out of her damp furs. “Azelly! I’ve told you not

  to run!”

  Mama was forever worrying over Azel. At almost twelve years of

  age, he appeared little older than nine. We also thought of him as much younger than his years because of his delicate health, and I suppose

  he acted the part we’d given him. He had been better lately, though.

  Despite Mama’s fear, it warmed my heart to see him running.

  I swept my brother onto my shoulders and bounced to my feet.

  At the sound of Azel’s laughter, Mama pressed her gloved fingers to

  her lips, holding in her customary scolding. Maia rose, hooked her arm in Mama’s, and led her away, distracting her from Ola’s tears and my

  reckless behavior with plans for the Equinox Gala.

  The Gala occupied our time in the weeks that followed. Maia

  and Tatia reveled in the excitement. On display in our supernal box

  at the Elysium Theatre, we endured a prelude of ballets, operas, and

  symphonies—opportunities to meet potential suitors before my

  formal presentation to society.

  I could not have been less interested.

  The trick I had used to sneak out tonight had gotten me out

  of many a dull occasion. Magic was prohibited in Heaven’s capital,

  but one could find anything in the Demon Market, and I had found

  a bottle of “twinning spirits” that allowed me to leave a version of

  myself at home in the form of a corporeal shade.

  The twinning spirits consisted of two vials. One contained the

  separating elixir. The other held the aethereal essence of the shade

  while its corporeal projection moved about—breathing and speaking

  and acting with the perfect likeness of the true form until the vial was opened and the essence returned to its source.

  My shade-self spent the long nights of winter in rich brocades and

  velvets, bundled in furs in bright red, horse-drawn sleighs to counter

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  the dreariness of heavy skies and starless nights as we sped over the

  snow to our engagements.

  The rest of me spent them in the smoke-shrouded dens of Raqia.

  Remembering it all when my shade returned to me was tedium

  enough.

  On the night of the Gala, however, I attended in both body and

  spirit. Every chandelier in the Winter Palace was ablaze, casting so

  many reflected glints on the River Neba it looked like a sky full of

  stars. Carriages arrived by the dozens, depositing celestial dignitaries and wealthy merchants in the grand foyer of our palace.

  Ola arrived on Kae’s arm wearing a gown of citrine satin and lace,

  happier than I had ever seen her. Whatever had preoccupied Kae had

  obviously been resolved. He hovered beside her with the earnestness

  of a courting suitor, bringing a pretty pink to her cheeks when he

  leaned in with a whisper to present her with cordials and candies from the reception hall’s brimming tables.

  The appearance of a dazzling pair of Seraphim between the

  arches of the enfilade announced the entrance of the principality and

  his queen. With the hush and rustle of silk, hundreds of skirts dipped as one.

  The orders of the Second Choir were beings of pure elemental fire,

  and while their element could be seen in the glowing countenances

  of the Cherubim and Ophanim, the Seraphim alone seemed to truly

  burn with it.

  Emerging from between their brilliance beneath a baptism of

  petals and gold leaf that tumbled like glittering butterflies from the gilded papier-mâché eggs overhead, Papa led Mama into the sea of

  silk.

  In the flash of jewels and sequins and the gleam of polished medals

  reflected from the mirrored walls in the seraphic light, the whole affair seemed but a fairy dream.

  Yet in all its splendor, the event of the season did not dazzle me

  half so much as the first time I saw the Demon Market.

  Just across the River Asheron that divided the noble houses of

  the city of Elysium from the low houses of Raqia, the lights of the

  market glittered on the water like a wicked invitation. It was a world

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  away from the dull and ordered life of a supernal grand duchess—a

  world sparkling with bright paper lanterns and trinkets of blown

  glass, full of buskers and hustlers, and men who ate fire. In its cobbled alleys, I feasted on prickly fruits that stained my lips and fingers purple and watched rough-looking demon boys play games of dice on the

  crumbling stone.

  The market’s inexorable magic had enticed me at the age of

  thirteen, and its iniquity had kept me coming back.

  When I escaped into the garden later, I found Ola and Tatia

  whispering in excitement among the fragrant roses. Ola drew me in

  between them huddled on the marble bench, saying she had reason to

  believe Kae was not, after all, engaged in an affair.

  “I am carrying an heir,” she confided. “If I had any cause for worry

  it is gone now. He is so pleased.”

  I embraced her. “Oh, Ola. That’s wonderful!”

  “What’s wonderful?” Azel stood in the doorway in his formal

  costume, a miniature of my father’s military regalia, with a book

  tucked under one arm.

  Ola blushed from shame, it seemed, and not happiness or

  embarrassment. I was puzzled for a moment, until Azel approached

  and I saw the look on his face.

  “Will it be a boy?” he asked. “I hope he will be healthy.” He did

  not add not like me, but it was there in his expression.

  Ola held out her hand and drew him between us. “I hope it’s

  healthy, too, Azelly, but I don’t care what sex it is. The House of

  Arkhangel’sk has its heir. I just want a family.”

  Maia found us then, and Ola repeated her news. The orchestra

  began the waltz, and the four of us danced around Ola—Tatia with

  Maia, and I with Azel—until we fell about the garden, laughing.

  A sumptuous meal was served at midnight, and Maia took up her

  favorite game, saying the first gentleman we saw whose name began

  with “S” would be my latest match. I nearly choked on my trifle when

  she pointed out Sar Sarael, a prince of Aravoth from the angelic

 
; Order of Virtues. Sarael was certainly divine in his aethereal beauty.

  His silvery hair hung down his back like a fall of crystalline water and his eyes glittered with the sheen of snow beneath a bright winter sun.

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  But Virtues were not known for their amorousness and rarely mingled

  with the lower orders.

  Beside Sarael was another Virtue whose name I had not learned.

  If possible, she outshone him in her rime-like purity. Watching Maia

  and I giggle over my would-be husband, she smiled at us from across

  the room. Then her attention fell on someone behind us, and her

  expression made me turn. By the entrance to the gallery, Kae stood

  watching her, frozen by her gaze.

  Attentive as a new lover on the night of the Gala, my cousin

  returned to his peculiar distraction in the days that followed. Ola said nothing, but as she grew full and lovely with her pregnancy, it was clear he was once more spending his days away from home.

  Kae had been my dearest friend since I was small and had spent

  more time at our home than his own after the death of my aunt in

  childbirth when he was just a boy, but now he had shut me out as well.

  Ola busied herself with her layette, with Tatia and Maia bustling

  around her to see that her baby entered the world well-accoutered.

  Less inclined toward things maternal, I spent time helping Azel with

  his studies, but it seemed intolerable that he should be kept inside

  during such lovely days.

  While the family took our spring holiday on the southern shore

  of the Gulf of the Firmament, I spirited him from the white granite

  Celestial Palace one afternoon to take his mind from his infirmity.

  We gave his nurse Helga the slip after tea. I carried Azel on my

  back and ran to the stables to fetch my mare. Though he was more at

  home on horseback than on his own limbs, Mama was afraid to let

  Azel ride, so he had no horse of his own. We set out for the woodlands of our private park, singing and laughing beneath a canopy of gold-dappled leaves, until Azel spotted a hummingbird and made me stop.

  He had never seen one except through a spyglass from his window.

  We held our breath while it hovered, indigo and sparkling, gathering

  nectar in its dagger-sharp beak.

  It was gone just as quickly, and in the absence of its whirring, we

  heard voices. Though too distant for the words to be clear, the birdlike titter of a lady carried down the path. I thought I had never heard

  anything so lovely. Awestruck, neither of us moved or made a sound.

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  Then, clear as the sky, I heard Cousin Kae. “You mock me, my

  lady. But my devotion is sincere.”

  My blood froze. It was plainly Kae, though he did not sound

  himself. To what lady was he pledging devotion? That laugh had

  certainly not belonged to Ola.

  “We should go,” Azel whispered in my ear.

  The rippling laughter came again, punctuated with the sound

  of pounding hooves. A riderless white horse thundered down the

  path toward us, its mane a comet in the sun. It passed us in a flash of brilliance, leaving only whorls of dirt in its wake.

  “My lady!” Kae followed, his horse at a gallop. He passed within

  inches of us, but took no notice, his face wild. “I am yours!”

  Azel developed a cough the following day. Helga scolded us in

  her “special language”—a peasant dialect she used when particularly

  angry—but she said nothing to Mama. When we returned to Elysium,

  Azel was bedridden again. In my guilt over his ill health and over the odd encounter with Kae that we had kept from Ola, I took to sneaking

  from the palace even more frequently on my own.

  At the wingcasting table, it was easy to forget I was a grand

  duchess of the Firmament of Shehaqim who would one day marry

  a grand duke or a prince of a distant princedom and leave the happy

  home in which I had grown up.

  But while I played, the celestial house of cards that was the House

  of Arkhangel’sk began to fall.

  §

  The first to fold was my father’s brother, Lebes, Grand Duke of

  Iriy. Shortly after our return to the city, the duchy of Iriy hosted the annual Feast of Virtues. My uncle became ill and collapsed during the

  commencement address.

  At first, it appeared to be merely a bout of the influence, but

  with the steady worsening of his condition, we began to suspect he

  had been poisoned. He lapsed into a sleep from which his attendants

  couldn’t wake him, and Kae and Ola hurried to his side.

  The only suspect was a Fallen man with ties to a subversive anti-

  monarchist group who worked for my uncle’s chef. The Virtues them-

  selves investigated such crimes, but when they found no evidence to

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  tie him to the poisoning, they released the demon and returned to

  Aravoth.

  Kae grew increasingly distraught the more my uncle slipped away.

  On the morning the grand duke breathed his last breath, my cousin

  flew into a rage and ran the suspected demon through with his sword.

  Ola was beside herself with grief for the father-in-law she had adored and worry for the husband she could not reach.

  The incident sparked outrage among the Fallen. Scores of them

  protested outside the Ereline Palace, stirring fears of a revolt.

  It was not the first time such a specter had reared its head in

  Heaven. Tragedy had preceded my father’s reign. After the untimely

  death of my grandfather in a riding accident, my great-grandfather

  had fallen to an anarchist’s blade, leaving Papa to take the throne at the tender age of twenty.

  Ola and Kae were whisked from the palace by the Seraphim

  Guard and brought to the safety of Elysium. Ola was horribly shaken,

  but Kae seemed to forget his distress almost immediately, returning to his prior preoccupation and rejecting her comfort.

  His behavior became impossible to ignore. Ola, now round with

  his child, he treated coldly, as if he could not bear to be near her.

  She confided in no one but Tatia now. They were closest in age, and

  I believe Ola was too ashamed to confide in anyone else. They wept

  together behind closed doors while Maia and I tried to make ourselves

  useful by helping to plan Mama’s social engagements. Papa, perhaps

  in response to the feminine undercurrents within the palace he could

  not comprehend, immersed himself in affairs of state, giving increasing audience to his advisors in cloistered meetings.

  Meanwhile, my guilt grew stronger as Azel and I kept secret the

  strange afternoon in the woods to spare Ola’s feelings. Azel’s pallor

  and labored breathing when I read to him from his favorite books of

  ornithology and angelic history caused me even more guilt. Helga, by

  his side night and day, did not speak of blame.

  §

  The heaviness in Ola’s eyes at last got the better of me, and

  I resolved to confront Cousin Kae. Though she was nearing her

  confinement, they made an appearance at the annual Elysium Day

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  pageant, the last grand affair in the capital before the solstice heralded our return to the Summer Palace in the north.

  At the dance following the first banquet, I managed to position

  myself as Kae’s partner
. He went through the motions with his mind

  elsewhere, gloved hand raising mine at the appropriate time, the other behind his back, taking the steps with dull accuracy.

  When I stepped in close to him, I met his gaze and held it with a

  fierce look. He focused on me at last while he spun me about, our right arms meeting overhead when we came together.

  “You seem preoccupied.”

  The bitterness of my voice appeared to shake him. “Preoccupied?”

  He glanced about in search of an excuse. “Uncle Helison and I have

  been engaged in some tense negotiations over the sovereignty of the

  duchies.”

  “I’m not talking about politics, Cousin.” I stepped back into a

  genuflection and then forward, looking up into his face. “I am talking about my sister. Your wife. She is having your child.”

  He looked puzzled, bless his craven heart. “I don’t—?”

  “Ola,” I whispered harshly. “For the love of Heaven!”

  “For pity’s sake, Anazakia!” He spun me about, and I whirled to

  face him once more. “I know who I’m married to.”

  “Do you?” We were about to switch partners and there was no

  time to belabor the point. “And whom are you meeting when you go

  out riding? Do you take my sister for a fool?”

  He released me, and I turned and curtsied to my new partner.

  I watched my cousin over my partner’s shoulder while we moved

  farther apart, and saw, at last, some humility in his eyes.

  When the dance ended, Kae made polite conversation before

  making his way to the alcove seat where I’d retired. He sat beside me.

  “Nenny.” He had not called me Nenny, the name Azel had invented

  after deeming my customary nickname too hard to pronounce, since I

  was a bare-legged tree climber. “You’re right. But you’re wrong.”

  I waited.

  “I haven’t been meeting anyone. But I have been going out to

  see… you wouldn’t… the most beautiful… ”

  “The steed,” I said, and Kae’s eyes snapped to mine. “I saw her.”

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  “Yes?” His eyes shone.

  “But I heard her, also, Kae. I heard a woman’s voice, the owner of

  the steed.”

  He frowned as if considering something contradictory, but said

  nothing.

  “You are killing Ola,” I told him. “She could not love you more

  deeply if you had been a love match. You are not just a convenient