The Shadow Queen. Bertrice Small

“Grandmother, how nice. Have you come to visit me?”

      “Your mother has departed,” Lady Farah said without preamble. “This is Princess Zagiri. She brings you something from your mother.”

      “What is it?” the boy asked. His dark eyes had grown large with the news of his mother’s death, but he did not cry.

      Zagiri withdrew the crystal bottle from her pocket. “Open your mouth, little one,” she told him, and when he obeyed without question she poured the foglike substance from the vessel into his open mouth.

      The boy swallowed it eagerly. “It tastes like berries,” he told them when he had finished it all up. “Leave the crystal, Zagiri, for I shall retain it as a keepsake from my mother. Thank you.”

      “Now we must go!” Lady Farah said. “You cannot be seen here. Your half brother is here, Egon. Go and find him. You must send to your father now.” She practically dragged Zagiri from the chamber, through the house and to her litter. “Quickly, quickly!” she told her bearers. “We must not be here when word gets out,” she said to Zagiri. “The simple people are so superstitious. When they learn that the Lord High Ruler has taken the Domina of Terah’s daughter to wife, and she was with his dead wife when Vilia died…” She paused. “Well, you know the rumors that will arise. Especially since the common folk are not privy to certain information.”

      Zagiri was surprised by what Lady Farah said. Hadn’t she been told that poor Vilia could not die until she had met the Terahn princess? Did the people of Hetar not realize that Vilia had done a noble thing in order to preserve her son’s life? That she had personally chosen Zagiri of Terah for Jonah’s new wife? Why would anyone suspect her of…of disposing of Jonah’s old wife so she might be his new one? Her mother had not wanted any marriage between Terah and Hetar.

      And then Zagiri began to recall little things that her mother had said when, curious, they would ask her to tell them about her girlhood in Hetar. Lara would tell them of the riches and magnificence of the Hetar of her youth. But she would also warn them that often the most beautiful things covered up the ugliest. Hetarians are manipulative, she’d said, and Zagiri was certainly seeing it in Lady Farah. For whatever reason Vilia could not die until she had met and spoken with Zagiri. And the longer she lingered the weaker her little son became. Why was that? What dark force was at work here? It had been powerful enough to bring her from the Dream Plain to Hetar. Suddenly Zagiri was afraid.

      “I want to see Jonah,” she said.

      Lady Farah did not notice that the girl had become pale with fright. “He will probably come to see you tonight,” she said. “And when he does we must sit together and discuss what to do with this foolish virginity of yours, my child. Vilia has a marvelous sex slave, Doran, who will be without a mistress now. He might be of help unless, of course, Jonah wants to sell him off. We have several Pleasure Houses that now cater to women here in The City. My son could make quite a fine profit on Doran. But we shall see what he wants to do. Gracious, you have become very pale, Zagiri. I imagine being transported via the Dream Plain from Terah to Hetar must have been quite exhausting. We’re almost back to my house. You must have a nice rest when we get there. You will want to be at your best when you see Jonah tonight.” And she smiled at her young companion, but the smile, Zagiri noticed, did not quite reach to her dark eyes.