CHAPTER SIX

Pelemere, the Central Kingdoms

M aximilian was surely irritated with her, at her reaction to the news of her pregnancy. Ishbel could understand why, but she had been so shocked, so appalled, so terrified, that she’d been unable to act any other way. By the Serpent, to have that little surprise dropped on her, on top of the horror of the ring.

Pregnant.

A child.

In her body.

She lay on the bed, Maximilian sleeping beside her, the fingers of one hand fluttering down to her belly, as if she could feel already the turmoil the child was about to create in her life.

She’d not considered the possibility of a child after the night Maximilian had come to her. Why should she? She should not be able to conceive. She had lost her ability to conceive the day she’d been inducted into her position as archpriestess of the Coil when she’d surrendered her reproductive ability to the Great Serpent in return for the blessing of his power. Since then she’d virtually forgotten she had a womb.

The only time she’d thought about her inability to conceive had been when StarWeb had been haggling the marriage contract and had insisted on the clause regarding a pregnancy being a required condition for ratification of the marriage. Ishbel had wondered then what excuse she might give Maximilian for her lack of ability to bear a child, and had thought that at least it might give her an excuse to get out of the marriage.

But, no, she’d conceived within the first hour of meeting the man.

It made her angry, mainly because she felt so out of control. Everything she had done as archpriestess of the Coil had been so ordered, so sure.

Now…

Ishbel lay her hand more firmly on her belly. The growing baby would surely disturb the Coil…and this, on top of the shock of the whispers.

Oh, Great Serpent, how could this happen? What should I do?

She must rid herself of the baby. Ishbel had no idea how to do this, but she knew women could manage it. She’d heard they took herbs. All she’d need to do would be to find someone to procure the right herbs and she could—

Suddenly Ishbel went rigid on the bed as the atmosphere in the chamber thickened.

She jerked her head over to look at Maximilian.

He remained asleep.

Then, her heart pounding, Ishbel very slowly turned her head to look at the side of the bed.

A great darkness was coalescing on the floor, at midpoint between the door and the bed.

Ishbel tried to control her breathing, tried to center herself, tried above all to calm herself so that she might be fit to greet the Great Serpent.

Very slowly the darkness resolved itself into a massive coiled serpent. It appeared to be made of the darkness itself, its scales so black they were more suggestion than reality, but glimmering here and there with faint rainbow colors as the serpent twisted in the dim lamplight.

The Great Serpent coiled about itself for a minute, then reared its head up so that it loomed over the bed.

Ishbel could not move, nor drag her eyes away from the enormous head that hovered above the bed.

She’d been in the presence of the Great Serpent before, of course, but only rarely, and only when she’d been in control of herself and of the situation.

Not ever lying in a bed, with a man, and with a baby in her belly to corrupt the Coil.

The head moved, weaving back and forth, its forked tongue flickering out of its mouth as it tasted the night air. Its eyes were great dark holes with flashes of fire glimmering in their depths.

“Greetings, Great One,” Ishbel said, making the sign of the Coil over her belly.

The Great Serpent ignored her. Instead its head wove ever closer to Maximilian, who lay fast asleep on the other side of the bed. It dipped low, then ran its glistening forked tongue slowly up Maximilian’s body from his feet to his shoulders.

Ishbel stared wide-eyed, sure that Maximilian would wake.

But he slept on, his chest rising and falling in deep, slow breaths, unaware of the serpent’s tongue coiling so intimately about his body.

The Great Serpent suddenly reared its head up, now directing its full attention to Ishbel.

It lowered its head once more, and ran its flickering tongue slowly, slowly, up Ishbel’s body, until it coiled about her belly.

Do not disturb the baby.

“Yes, Great One,” Ishbel whispered.

Do what Maximilian wants.

“Yes, Great One.”

Wash with the tide for the time being. That will please me, and accomplish what I need.

“Great One, the whispers—”

Ishbel, just…wash with the tide. The whispers cannot harm you. Do not allow them to drive you from this man.

“Great One, please, how long must this marriage last? How long before I can go home to Serpent’s Nest?”

The Great Serpent regarded her carefully for long moments before he answered.

You shall be home within a year, two at the most, Ishbel. It is not long to wait.

Ishbel relaxed in relief. A year, two at the most. She would manage.

“As it pleases you,” she whispered.

The serpent’s tongue flickered once more; then suddenly the chamber was free of its presence.

Later, when Ishbel slept, she once more dreamed of the Lord of Elcho Falling, standing in the snow, his back to her, then slowly becoming aware of her presence, his head turning, turning, turning, and then the torrent of despair and pain that engulfed her world as he laid eyes on her and opened his mouth to speak.

Ishbel rose in the morning, putting the dream from her mind, washed and dressed with the aid of a maidservant, then stood looking at the ring on the top of the cabinet.

“You need not wear it for the moment,” said Maximilian, coming up beside her, “if that is what you wish.”

Such profound relief washed over Ishbel that she gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”

“We do need to talk about the rings though, Ishbel.”

“Later,” she said.

“Yes. Very well. Later.”