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Chapter 44

One morning, Azrian awoke, and Primus was no where to be found.

And it was so completely unlike him not to be there when she awoke, that Azrian attempted to dress herself that morning with much trepidation. But she couldn't get her corsets on alone. Nor lace up the back of her own dress. And she sat on the edge of her bed for a while, staring at the doors with a thudding heart and silently praying Primus was about to walk through them with tea on a tray. But he never did.

When it finally hit home that something was really wrong, Azrian went to the balcony and stood wrapped in her housecoat, peering out at the sky. She was afraid to call another Beauceron to her service, afraid to ask after Primus and didn't know who to trust. But she couldn't get through the morning alone. Eventually, she had the mastiffs guarding her door bring a slave to her service. He was a handsome young male named Gallus, and he silently helped her into her corsets as the sun rose high in the sky. She was late for breakfast.

Afraid to outright ask Gallus about Primus, Azrian searched his eyes for any clue, any indication that he knew what was happening in the castle. But Gallus only looked at her with his patient, obedient eyes, calmly waiting for the next soft command of his queen. He hadn't a clue what was going on, though the slaves usually knew everything that was going on, and it suddenly hit Azrian that Gallus had been sent to her because he hadn't a clue. He probably hadn't worked in the castle more than a day. Someone had removed Primus. Someone had isolated her.

Hellene. Who else could it be? Since Captain Carnell's stint in the throne room, Hellene had been extra sweetness and extra smiles. No longer was she the silent and morose widow, mourning mother, and rape victim. Suddenly she was bright, sparkling, lively, bringing the court to helpless laughter with her insults and jibs at her aunt's expense. She laughed girlishly at Azrian's every other word and clung hard to Azrian's arm, and Azrian hadn't been able to be rid of her.

Each evening, Azrian and Primus would discuss what could be done about Hellene. Primus suggested that they do absolutely nothing. To remove the princess so quickly after Donica having named her the betrothed of Etienne would raise more suspicion. It was best for Azrian to pretend to die as Donica, then assume Etienne's shape . . . and _then_be rid of Hellene. Etienne had hated Hellene as much as King Gerard had, and no one would be the least bit surprised if the prince sent the former queen of Poston packing back to Curith.

Azrian and Primus agreed it was a good plan, and sat beside the fire in the royal bedchamber, staring at the flames as Azrian brushed the little fox cub's white mane.

After the incident with Captain Carnell, Azrian later came to the cub in the royal bedchamber and told her she would be safe in her care. The cub had been tied by her leash to the bedpost, and she cowered and wept. The Beaucerons had bathed her and cared for her wounds, but she had refused to eat, and when Azrian came, they were scrubbing the food she had thrown off the walls. Azrian sent all the slaves out of the room but for Primus, then she shed the shape of Donica and became herself. The little cub calmed immediately and stared at Azrian in awe, her mouth agape as Azrian assured her she would never have to be afraid again.

"I'm going to make a better world for you," Azrian told the child. "And I won't let anyone here hurt you." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Primus stiffen, and she knew he disapproved of her making promises she couldn't possibly keep. There was no way of really knowing she would always be able to protect the child, but why frighten her even more?

The child looked up at Azrian with her large brown eyes and whispered that her name was Yeneneshe.

Azrian smiled and said, "That's a mouthful. How 'bout I call you Yen?"

The girl smiled shyly and nodded. So Yen it was.

When Azrian awoke to find Primus gone, she thought for one horrible moment that Yeneneshe was gone as well. But she heard a whimper and looked under the bed, and she realized the child was there, cowering in fear. She reached under and drew the child out by the paw. The child fell in her arms and wept as Gallus stood by, calmly looking on.

Azrian held the girl tightly and blinked thoughtfully into space. Hellene had turned the heat up by taking Primus. If it had been a dangerous game before, it was more so now. She looked at Gallus and met his eye, and he looked back at her, patiently waiting.

"Gallus. I need you to do something for me."

Gallus waited.

Azrian took Yeneneshe by the paw and went to the bust of Nadheertia. The other two watched as she pushed the bust's nose like a button, and the portrait of King Antony slid open to reveal the secret room.

Gallus stood behind Azrian, unfazed. But Yeneneshe's mouth dropped open, and she twisted her little fist in her eye and across her pink nose to push away the snot and tears. Azrian led the girl inside the room and beckoned for Gallus to follow. He obeyed.

"Are you familiar with the hidden passages of the castle, Gallus?" Azrian said, her eyes scanning the many portraits of Emerald royalty that lined the walls. She glanced at Gallus, who shook his head. Ah. He really was a new purchase then.

"I need you to take Yen through the hidden passages of the castle," Azrian said to the slave. "I need you to take her far from Wychowl. And I need you to never come back. Both your lives are in danger." She looked him in the eye. "Do you understand?"

Gallus blinked, then nodded uncertainly. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a request.

Azrian turned to face him. "It is a Beauceron's greatest wish to serve a good master, is it not?"

Gallus nodded again. He was still uncertain, still surprised. Azrian looked in his eyes and could see he didn't know what to think.

"Then serve her," Azrian said and offered the Beauceron Yeneneshe's small paw. She looked him firmly in the eye. "Serve her. Care for her. Protect her from all harm. And never leave her side. I command it."

Gallus nodded again, firmly this time. He stepped closed and looked down at Yeneneshe with gentle eyes. She gaped up at him, mouth open in wonder, snot running from her nose. He slowly smiled . . . and took her paw.

Azrian smiled, relieved. She moved past them to a portrait of a proud king. The king looked like Etienne, only there were gray streaks in his golden mane, and he was far older, his eyes lined with the burden of the golden crown he wore. Azrian knew that behind the king's portrait was a passage out of the castle. Primus had shown it to her weeks before, in case she ever needed to escape. She pushed the hidden button on the portrait's frame, and it opened, creaking forward like a door to reveal a dark passage. Behind Azrian, the girl began to cry. It had finally sunken in that she was going somewhere and Azrian wasn't coming.

"No," she whispered. "Ma-ma!"

Azrian grunted when the child threw her arms around her middle and wept. Tears rose in Azrian's eyes and she touched the girl's head. "Little one . . . you must go --"

"No!" Yeneneshe wailed. "Why can't I stay here with you!"

Azrian looked at Gallus, who was watching the child sadly. "Take her."

Gallus nodded. He stepped close, and after grappling with the child for a moment, he managed to pry her from Azrian's waist. She sobbed wretchedly as he hefted her on his hip. Then he stepped into the dark tunnel with her, stroking her mane and shushing her.

Azrian slowly closed the portrait, and as it clicked shut, Gallus looked her in the eye and nodded yet again, a silent promise that he would protect Yeneneshe. To his dying breath.

Azrian couldn't help but have her misgivings. Gallus was very young. He might have been fifteen at most. Sending him off alone with a child . . . But what choice did she have?

After seeing Gallus and Yeneneshe off, Azrian went to breakfast alone and was unsurprised when Hellene did not join her. She presided over court alone, and without Primus to coach her in the various personalities of the various nobles, she made several fumbling mistakes and abruptly ended the session, announcing that she was ill. She also went to lunch alone, taking it in the garden with the court. She was careful to make casual inquiries as to the whereabouts of Hellene, and the nobles assured her that no one had seen Hellene all day.

But Hellene also wasn't in her chambers. This Azrian knew after sending Cambridge to spy for her. Cambridge returned to Azrian in an isolated section of the garden to report that the princess had not been in her room since the night before. He had his soldiers looking for her and a few more watching the door for the moment she would return.

Azrian dismissed Cambridge, suddenly very glad she had recruited him. By securing his loyalty - and the loyalty of soldiers like him who had confessed their crimes - she now had a full network of spies of her own. They had been watching Hellene for her every day since Captain Carnell's outburst in the throne room, and the fact that Hellene had outmaneuvered them was alarming. Either someone had betrayed her or Hellene was just that damn good.

Azrian finally decided to stop waiting to react and proact. She took supper alone - as Hellene still hadn't appeared - and retired to her bedchamber as Donica. But when she left the room again, she was Gallus. Naked, tall, and strong-shouldered, she moved effortlessly through the castle wearing the young slave's face, while carrying a towel on her arm and an empty bucket in her paw, as if she had been reduced to cleaning duties for the night.

She stopped in various places, pretending to clean as she spied on her own spies. She was glad to hear that none of them had betrayed her. In fact, they were terrified of failing her and many spoke in horror of having their heads chopped off if they didn't locate Hellene and Primus.

Azrian moved on, and it was the same. Everywhere, her spies were loyal to her and were frantically searching for Hellene. She eavesdropped on a few conversations and frowned to hear the way some of the soldiers spoke of Cambridge. They expressed concern that he had been acting strangely all day, and one mastiff was forlorn that his sexual advances had been spurned by the new captain, when Cambridge had always made love to him before.

Azrian decided it was time to plan her next move. She went up to the battlements to be alone and stood in the cool night air, letting the wind whip back Gallus' long black mane. It was strange to her, being naked, despite the fact that she had spent most of her life in the heat of the fens, riding around on Meba in stringy furs that barely covered her. Sometimes she thought of Meba and smiled and wondered what the moa bird was doing right at that moment. Perhaps Meba had gone home to the fens. Or perhaps Meba roamed Celankobi, looking for her still.

"Gallus?" said a voice, and Azrian turned her face to see Cambridge approaching.

Cambridge was tall, thin, and very pale for a mastiff, and Azrian had always wondered if he wasn't secretly a mutt. His fur was not auburn or ruddy brown - like the typical breed of mastiff that served at Wychowl -- but a very pale tan. His long ponytail was even paler, to the point that it was almost white. And his eyes . . . his eyes were the palest, clearest blue. Like water that was almost clear but not quite. His lashes were pale as well, and they blinked slowly as he stopped to regard her.

"What are you doing up here?" he said. "Shouldn't you be downstairs with her majesty? We can not afford to leave her unguarded in these dark times."

Azrian eyed him suspiciously. ". . . Her majesty has guards at her door."

"And look what good they've done her," Cambridge said nastily, and Azrian stiffened as he slowly smiled. "Oh? Why so wary . . . Gallus? Could it be that you aren't . . . . Gallus?"

Before Azrian could speak, Cambridge lifted his paws, and fire exploded in her face. She flew clear off the battlements and tumbled away across the stars, screaming in agony. Her face was burning, and the anguish tore through her fur as fire danced in a mad wreath around her eyes, searing through her mane and lacing her ears with excruciating pain. She felt her disguise slip away, and then she was Azrian again, her small red wings bursting from her back as she spiraled down and down to her death, twisting against the relentless flames, clawing at her own face as her screams echoed to the stars. The ground was coming up fast, and she could see Cambridge on the battlements above, grinning at her over the side of the wall she dropped away to a speck.

With sudden determination, Azrian spread her wings and glided around in a smooth arch, catching herself just before she hit the ground. She sped high, jetting toward the stars and over the battlement wall, before landing deftly on her feet before Cambridge. Only he wasn't Cambridge. She waved the fire away, and as it cleared from her eyes, Cambridge melted away . . . and Hellene stood in his place.

Hellene smiled, her pinpoint fangs cutting the corners of her grin. "Nice," she whispered with a jerk of her brows. Her long red mane lifted loose in the wind. She was still wearing Cambridge's jacket and breastplate, while Azrian was naked, and Azrian silently cursed herself for posing as Gallus and not a soldier. Hellene laughed as if she'd read her mind.

They began to circle, their steps careful, their eyes piercing as they gazed unflinching, sizing each other up. Azrian could hear her heart roaring in her ears. She had learned many things from Zuu'ma, but until this moment, her magic had never been put to the test, and Hellene seemed very powerful. She could still feel the fire licking her face long after she had waved it out.

"So you are the child of Ti'uu," Hellene whispered. "Ayni warned me about you." She snorted derisively. "Not that you were a threat, mind you. Just that you were a pest."

"You are god-touched," Azrian observed.

"No shit," Hellene returned and licked her top lip. "I am a child of fire and rage, born to the mother of war, shaped in her womb to rule Aonre on the throne of King Antony. It displeased Mother when I married Gerard --"

"Then why did you?" Azrian mocked.

"Because I was like you once," Hellene returned, sidestepping slowly as they circled, paws out and licking with flame. "I denied my destiny. I defied my god-mother. I had a child that shouldn't have been. I did everything to oppose her." She shook her head. "But there is no opposing the gods. You are given to your path. I am given to mine."

"I thought I was a pest?" Azrian said derisively. "A bug." She held her paws before her as she sidestepped, mentally preparing to throw up a shield that would block Hellene's fire.

Hellene laughed softly. "Even a bug has a destiny. Yours is to fail -- as Nadheertia failed before you!" Without warning, she lunged.

Azrian had not been expecting a physical attack. She staggered as Hellene grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall. Over and over. Hot blood trickled in her eyes and pain exploded in stars, blurring her vision. She felt the agony spreading in a burning ache across the back of her skull, and as she slumped over in a pool of her own blood, fire danced again in her eyes, scorching her face.

Azrian whimpered and crawled feebly through her own blood. She closed her eyes and managed to command the fire to quench, but the pain of it continued to tear her face. Her head spun as the blood trickled hot down the back of it, and suddenly lightheaded, she collapsed, her cheek smashing up in her eye. She could see Hellene's sharp slippers as the princess stood over her, calmly watching her bleed out.

"Tuh," Hellene said after a pause. "You're pathetic. Just as Ayni said you were. What did Zuu'ma teach you? How to sing flowers_into _bloom? Look at you. You can't do_shit_ without your precious Primus."

"I can do this," Azrian whispered. She suddenly lashed out, grabbed Hellene by the ankle, and twisted.

Hellene screamed as she went down, smacking the back of her head on the hard stone. She lay there, dazed and moaning. Blood slipping in her eye, Azrian crawled to her, and grabbing her by the mane, she snatched her head up . . . and crushed her face into her knee. Hellene sputtered as her nose burst with blood. Azrian let her head drop with a nasty smack and crouched beside her, watching as she stared in a daze at the sky.

"Where is Primus?"

"Where is Primus!" Hellene mocked. She grabbed Azrian by the face and tossed her away like a sack. "Who cares! Primus can't save you now!"

Azrian spun away through the air. Her brain was throbbing with pain, and as she tried to land on her feet, she realized the blood flying across the stars was hers. She dropped on one foot, staggered, and fell on her tail. She had barely lifted her face when Hellene marched up and kicked her in the eye.

Azrian heard her eye pop as Hellene's sharp heel dug in and she screamed. The heel snatched away, and Azrian opened her good eye to see a trail of red flesh clinging to Hellene's shoe. Her eye was gone. Her eye was gone. Gasping and pained, she scrambled in shock across the stone, crawling where, she didn't know. Hellene grabbed her by the tail and dragged her back. Her teeth clicked when her chin hit the ground and she whimpered as her knees were skinned.

"Stupid . . ." Hellene panted, "weak . . . cunt. I don't even need magic to kick your sorry ass."

Azrian choked as Hellene grabbed her by the neck . . . and slammed her forehead against the stone. Pain exploded again, this time cracking across her face, and she collapsed in her own blood, gasping, clawing at the fresh hole where her eye used to be. She could hear Hellene pacing behind her, could hear the click of her sharp slippers on the stones, and each tap vibrated against her ear as it pressed the floor.

"You sicken me," Hellene said somewhere behind her. "You are supposed to be god-touched, my equal, my great rival for the throne of the world. And I was so busy longing for my child, I didn't even see what you were. Now I know: you're a worm. But I understand. I was like you once. I was blind. I didn't want to be a goddess. I didn't want to rule Aonre. I wanted to fall in love and have babies and get fat. Only it all fell to pieces."

Azrian whimpered and squeezed her eye shut when Hellene leaned close and hissed in her ear, "Because love is a lie. It's something we tell ourselves we're in. So we can justify fucking our brains out and all the other shit we do. The petty squabbles. The silly games. The primitive desire of males to own females. We invented love. To make the world a little less empty. Etienne never loved you, just as Gerard never loved me. Trust me . . . I did you a favor."

Azrian gasped with tears and was glad when Hellene clicked away again.

"And you lay there," Hellene went on, "pathetic and crying. Because you're still soft. Because you still believe in love, that the world can be saved, that one day dogs will see foxes as anything more than scum, and that you will sit on your fat can on the seat of King Antony until the end of time. But the foxes will never _be_more than scum. Don't you understand? That's why they were cast down in the first place! But I waste my breath. Ayni is the only god to understand the motives of Hildrith'el, and you are a child of Ti'uu. Which means the apple doesn't fall far from the tree . . . if you will allow me the cliché."

"G-Gah . . ." Azrian coughed up blood.

"I'm sorry?" said Hellene and cupped a paw to her pricked ear. "What was that? The sound of you growing a spine? No? How disappointing."

"A-Ahh . . ."

Hellene squatted beside Azrian and opened her paw. Azrian stiffened: Hellene was holding her eye. It stared at her, unseeing and golden. Hellene closed her fist again and smiled as she crushed Azrian's eye to mush.

Azrian squeezed her eye shut, and Hellene rose and walked away again.

"Well. Now that this is out of the way, I suppose I should show you where Primus is. You asked, after all. And what sort of queen would I be if I didn't tell you? Cambridge!"

Azrian couldn't believe it when the real Cambridge walked onto the battlements, looking sheepish. He glanced apologetically at Azrian before turning to Hellene and placing his fist on his heart.

Azrian was so angry, she wanted to explode. She began to tremble as she lay there, on her face, in her blood. Her wings were twitching on her back.

"Secure the prisoner," Hellene said with an absent wave of her paw.

"Yes, your highness."

Cambridge came to Azrian and gently gathered her limp body in his arms. She choked as the aches spread again, and he looked at her sympathetically. She coldly averted her eye. Primus had been right. So right. And she couldn't believe that Cambridge was hurt by her anger! His ears went back flat, but his face hardened, and he marched her to the dungeon.

Azrian was placed in a cell, and as she pressed her back to the wall and glanced around, she recognized it as the same cell in which she'd had the spies beheaded. Cambridge stepped back and regarded her coldly as Hellene approached, paws folded and smiling.

"Here he is," Hellene said and gestured a graceful paw. "Your devoted servant. Your slave. Dare I say your king?"

Azrian looked where Hellene had indicated and her heart stopped. A mastiff was coming along the corridor . . . with Primus' gaping head on a pike. He tossed the head in the cell with her, and it thudded dully across the straw, spinning to a stop at her feet. Tears rose to blind her. But she refused to give Hellene the satisfaction of her horror. She lifted her chin and stared coldly into the distance, ignoring everyone there.

"Yes, that's right," Hellene mocked with a wave of her fist, "stiff upper lip and all that. You'll need it." She smiled widely at Azrian, then turned and clicked away.

The others followed. Leaving Azrian alone.

In the dark.

With her pain.