Fyne Sisters - The Star Witch Part 15

"No, Sebestyen," Liane argued.

He glared down at her. "I will be here, Liane. If you wish it there will be no other witnesses, but I will be here, where I belong, when my son is born."

"I will send for you when the time comes," Isadora said. "Don't be impatient. It might be a long while."

Liane seemed to relax when she realized that he indeed planned to leave. Sebestyen went to Isadora and

placed his arm around her shoulder. There had been a time when he would not have dared such a dangerous gesture, but she had been here for months, and he had not seen any evidence that she possessed the kinds of witchery her sister had displayed in the grand ballroom. She was, in fact, quite harmless.

He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "If anything happens to my wife or my son while they are in your hands, you will pray for a quick death before I am finished with you."

"I am doing my best, my lord, and will continue to do so."

Sebestyen wanted to ask Isadora about news from Lucan Hern's bed, but now was not the time. His wife and son were on his mind, and he had no time or energy for any other thoughts.

For today, there was no rebellion, no machinations, no prophesies to fear. For today, there was just

Liane and the miraculous birth of their son.SINCE LUCAN HAD heard Mahri's call at his doorway early in the morning, he would know whyIsadora did not appear for their daily lessons. Still, she wished she could send him a message of somesort. I miss you; I want you; I can't wait to get out of this place with you...

There was no one in the Level Five hallway-in the entire palace-she would trust with such a message.Lucan knew why she was occupied, and so he would not worry. Nothing else mattered at the moment.Liane grew more contentious and impatient as the day wore on. Her labor pains gradually increased in intensity and very gradually grew closer together. She cursed the soldiers who had brought her to this place nearly seventeen years ago; Sophie, who had wielded the magic that made this child possible; Isadora, who was the only one present to rail against; and her husband, the Emperor Sebestyen, who had done this terrible thing to her and who would pay in a thousand ways before his miserable life was done.

In the moments when pain did not dominate Liane's world, they had talked through their plans for the minutes surrounding and just after the birth of the twins. Juliet had delivered twins in the past, and Isadora remembered that there had been a span of several minutes-a quarter of an hour in that case, she believed Juliet had said-between the births.

If all went well, their plan should work. When the first child was born, they would wrap him in the waiting warm blanket and give him to Ferghus. There would be no time for delivering both babies and choosing which was stronger and which was weaker. Isadora would unseal the secret pa.s.sageway and send Ferghus out of the bedchamber by that route. She did not know his planned course from there, and did not wish to. He promised safety for the baby, and that was all she needed to know.

When Ferghus was gone, they would send for Sebestyen. With luck, he would arrive in time to see his second child born.

"It's not fair!" Liane screamed as her contraction faded.

"What isn't fair?" Isadora remained calm as she wiped the empress's face with a damp, cool cloth.

"Why don't men have to go through this? Their function in procreation is all about pleasure, and then they get to sit back and relax while we grow large and ill and irritable, and then suffer for hours before our bodies are stretched in unnatural and painful ways, and a living being is torn from our wombs."

"It is a blessing," Isadora replied.

A single word made clear Liane's opinion on that matter, and Isadora laughed.

"I'm serious. One day, I hope I can have a child." With Lucan? She wasn't sure they would be together long enough for such a miracle to occur. "Did you see Sophie with her daughter Ariana while they were here?"

"Yes," Liane answered, her voice calmer.

"I have never seen such a pure and powerful love as that of a mother and child. We love men, on occasion, and we love our families. But this kind of love is different, and it touches the soul in a unique way. You are very lucky."

Liane breathed deeply. "Yes, I suppose I am." And then another contraction began. Before it became so intense that she could not speak, she caught Isadora's eyes and held them. "The firstborn, the one Ferghus will take away... I don't want to see him." Tears filled her eyes. "I don't think I can bear to send him away if I do."

Isadora nodded and grasped Liane's hand, and the woman threw her head back and screamed.

The time was near.

SEBESTYEN HAD SPENT the day in his office, piddling with papers that meant nothing and snapping at everyone who dared to poke their heads into his domain. How long did it take to birth a child? Had Liane been in pain all this time? A part of him wanted to rush to Level Five and insist on being with her as she went through the ordeal.

Another part of him was perfectly happy to stay here where he did not have to watch her suffer.

When the knock came on his door, he stood up sharply. Finally! But Beorn opened the door to reveal a

palace resident who had not set foot in this room for many years.

"Gadhra. What are you doing here?"

The old woman looked as a witch should, in his opinion, with long, straggling gray hair and a dress that

looked like it had been made of rags. She had powers of the sort Isadora Fyne never would, and though

Sebestyen did not want his fear to show, he was afraid of her.

She took one tentative step into the room. "My dreams are disturbing," she said, her voice hoa.r.s.e and too low.

"How is that my concern? Surely there is a potion of some sort to cure you of this ailment."

"It is not an ailment but a gift that disturbs my dreams," she said, taking another step toward him.

Sebestyen signaled to Beorn, and the sentinel drew his sword.

Gadhra stopped several feet away and glanced at the threatening weapon. "I must speak to you alone,

my lord."

"That is impossible."

"Do you trust these men with all your secrets?"

Sebestyen almost answered, "Yes," but something stopped him.

"If you do not trust me, then hold a blade to me yourself while I say what must be said. This news is for

your ears alone, my lord."

At a subtle signal from Sebestyen, Serian handed over his sword, and the two sentinels left the room.

They would remain just outside the door, he knew, and with a word they would return.

Sebestyen held the long sword so that the tip barely touched Gadhra's throat. "What brings you here,

witch?"

Her old eyes held a hint of sadness, as well as a hint of anger. "The empress means to betray you, my

lord. She is plotting at this very moment to send the rightful heir to the throne away from his proper place.Away from his father.""She would never do such a thing," he said, instinctively defending Liane. "I should kill you here and now for even suggesting that she would."

"I have proof," Gadhra said. "Come with me, quickly, and together we will save the rightful heir."

LUCAN KNEW THAT childbirth was not a quick or easy task, so he was not surprised when Isadora did not appear at all that day. He met with Esmun in the afternoon and told him of the plan to escape.

He'd expected some sort of argument from his usually hardheaded brother, but Esmun was quite ready to leave the palace and Emperor Sebestyen behind-as long as Elya came with them.

Tonight's meal was eaten in his chambers, as always, but it was Franco who sat across the table from him, not Isadora. As much as he normally enjoyed the company of the warrior who was posing as his valet, the man was a poor subst.i.tute as dinner companion.

Like Esmun, Franco was anxious to leave this place. He was not so sure about making their escape with two women in tow. He seemed to think the Hern brothers had been bewitched.

Then again, Franco was young and had never been completely besotted by a female. He would learn, in time.

Franco ate with relish, and dinner conversation was kept at a minimum until both men were finished with their meal. It was then that Franco leaned back in his chair and looked squarely at Lucan. "I'm glad enough that we won't be fighting Columbyana's war, but I don't entirely understand why. You came here specifically to ally with the emperor, did you not?"

"You're anxious to engage in full-out war?" The Circle often fought in clan disputes, and they had taken part in many a b.l.o.o.d.y battle, but there had not been war with a land beyond Tryfyn's borders since the fall of the Circle, well more than a hundred years ago. If all went well and he retrieved the Star, as he was destined to do, there would not be war within Tryfyn for a long time to come.

"I much prefer sword-to-sword conflict to being your manservant," Franco teased.

"Am I unbearably demanding?"

"Yes, you are," the younger man replied with a crooked smile.

After Franco retired to his own quarters to sharpen his weapons and pack his small bag for travel, Lucan paced his silent rooms. He kept expecting Isadora to come through the hidden entrance, tired but happy to see him. She would be happy to see him, wouldn't she?

As he paced, his mind went back to that moment early this morning when Isadora had so plainly told him she did not want to be his wife. He couldn't marry her so he should be glad that she did not desire such ties, but instead he was annoyed. If the choice were his, he would gladly ask her to marry him. She would make a good wife. Did she not think that he would make a good husband?

Lucan lit a number of candles when night fell, so that when she did come to him she would not open the door into darkness. As he waited, he packed his own bag. Isadora would not be able to take many of her things with her, but once they reached Tryfyn he would replace everything she had left behind, and more. He would give her everything any woman could possibly want, and she would be happy. She would not regret leaving the imperial palace for him.

He had not come to this palace looking for a woman, but as he prepared to flee he could not imagine leaving without Isadora.

SEBESTYEN GUIDED THE way along the narrow, winding stair that led to the chamber where Liane was delivering his child. The old woman who trailed along behind him was surely wrong. She was a lunatic who smelled of musty potions and unwashed clothes, who was wild-eyed and unkempt and cryptic. Gadhra represented everything Sebestyen hated and feared about magic and witches.

When they arrived in Liane's room and discovered that the witch was wrong, he'd have Gadhra thrown in Level Thirteen to rot. With the Circle of Bacwyr on his side, he did not need her magic. Other, lesser witches could concoct the few potions they needed. A witch as strong as this one could bring too much trouble to the palace.

Beorn had been sent to the Level Five hallway and the main entrance to the empress's chambers, where Liane's sentinels continued to stand guard. Serian trailed behind Sebestyen and the witch Gadhra, as the three of them took the hidden stairwell he had used on a few occasions to visit Liane.

He had never used the pa.s.sageway to visit any of the wives who had preceded Liane. Never, not once in the years he had been married to them, had he desired to see any one of them so desperately that he would sneak out of his bed in the middle of the night and make the short and twisted journey to their bed. Liane was different from all other women; she had always been different. He looked for and even expected betrayal from everyone else-but not from her.

When he reached the hidden entrance to the bedchamber, Sebestyen dropped down and laid his hand upon a cool stone. The door should slide silently and quickly open, but nothing happened.

The witch behind him dropped to her haunches and whispered in his ear, "The witch Isadora has sealed this door."

"Can you unseal it?"

"Of course. Isadora Fyne is not a more powerful witch than I. Any spell she can cast, I can uncast. Any magic she can do, I can undo."

Through the thick wall, he heard Liane scream.

"Do it," he commanded.

The witch muttered words he did not understand, casting her spell in a language that stank of magic, just as she did. A chill crawled up Sebestyen's spine. There was no guarantee that the old woman was doing as he asked; she might be casting a spell on him.

But disgusting as Gadhra was, she had been loyal, thus far.

The witch stopped speaking, then offered to him a vial of Panwyr on her wrinkled palm. "You will need this for the witch Isadora," she whispered. "When she is no longer necessary for the delivery, you must dispose of her. She knows too much; she is a danger to you."

Sebestyen realized that he should've disposed of Isadora Fyne when Bors had first presented her to him. He took the Panwyr and dropped it into the deep pocket of the crimson robe he wore, and once again touched his hand to the low, hidden entrance.

As it had in the past, the small door slid silently open.

AT LAST, THE time was near. Ferghus waited in the entryway and would come at Isadora's call. The last time she'd checked on him, the empress's most devoted sentinel had clearly been nervous. He'd been downright pale and twitchy. Isadora could not tell if it was the birth itself or the intrigue to follow that worried him.

Men who were not afraid to kill and die by the sword could be oddly squeamish where childbirth was concerned.