CHAPTER EIGHT

Sakkuth, Isembaard

A xis turned to Ravenna the moment they were in the corridor. “My father is with your party. Where is he?”

“What?” said Isaiah. “How do you know this?”

“I saw Maximilian and my father, StarDrifter, today,” Axis said. “While we were on your grand procession into Sakkuth. They watched from a rooftop.”

“And you thought this was not important enough to tell me, or Ishbel?” Isaiah said. “Damn you! Did you not think enough of Ishbel to tell her that her husband was close? Did you not have the courtesy?”

He whipped about to Ravenna. “Who are you?”

“I don’t think I need to—” Ravenna began.

“Tell me your name, curse you!”

“My name is Ravenna,” she said. “I am a marsh woman, one who patrols the pathways between this world and the Land of Dreams.”

“Very pretty,” said Isaiah. “Unfortunately I am not impressed with your pretensions.” He took a step forward, jabbing a finger in Ravenna’s face. “How dare you interfere between Maximilian and Ishbel!

You have no right.”

“That is hardly an accusation you can toss about lightly.”

“My father…” Axis said, desperate to edge the conversation back into civility.

“He is well, Axis,” Ravenna said. “More than anxious to see you.”

Axis smiled. “And I him.”

“Oh, for the gods’ sakes,” Isaiah muttered. “Ravenna, who else do you have in ‘your party’? Who else can I expect to find emerging from the shadows?”

“My mother, Venetia,” said Ravenna. “StarDrifter’s wife, Salome”—she sent an apologetic glance to Axis as she said this—“and two men-at-arms. Not an invasion force. Not the kind you feel you need to carry about with you.”

Axis broke in before Isaiah could speak. “Isaiah, I apologize to you, and I will humble myself before Ishbel when I have the chance. I should have said something and it was wrong of me not to do so. The fact was, the sight of my father stunned me so much, roiled my emotions so deeply, that I was unable to think clearly, and—”

“You were one of the greatest military commanders this world has ever seen,” said Isaiah, “and I do not believe for a moment this excuse that the sight of your father upset you so much you forgot to mention to me you had seen both him and Maximilian.”

Now he addressed Ravenna again. “I knew Maximilian was in that room, hiding in the shadows. What I am most angry about is not so much his presence, but the manner of it. That degree of slyness does not suit a man of his station and responsibility—and I know that it is not the first time he has practiced it. Oh, I know, you do not need to tell me, always with the best possible reasons, of course. I gave Maximilian the opportunity to act honorably, and he did not take it. Spare me your indignation, girl. I find it as unjustifiable as Maximilian’s righteous anger.”

Axis thought that Ravenna was the kind of woman who would very rarely be put in her place, but he thought Isaiah had just managed it. Ravenna kept her tongue still, but her eyes glittered, and Axis wondered if Isaiah had just made himself a bad enemy.

“Axis,” Isaiah continued, “you will go with Ravenna and you will fetch to this palace the rest of Maximilian’s party. I am sure that you will be glad to see your father again.”

“Are we to be captives?” Ravenna asked, bright spots of color in her cheeks.

“You will be treated with the honor I am not sure you completely deserve,” Isaiah said, “but the conditions of your time at Sakkuth remain to be negotiated between myself and Maximilian. Not with you.”

Isaiah injected enough derision into that last that Axis glanced worriedly at Ravenna.

The spots of color in her cheeks were, if anything, much brighter. “You have no idea,” she said, rather quietly, “to whom you speak.”

“And you can have no idea either, you petty little marsh woman, to whom you speak.”

Ignoring her gasp, Isaiah looked at Axis. “See that Maximilian’s party gets back here safely,” he said.

“Assure them I mean them no enmity, and see that they are quartered comfortably. If I get the chance, I will speak with Maximilian myself later tonight.”

And with that he turned on his heel and stalked off.

Maximilian and Ishbel sat at opposite sides of the table, neither looking at the other.

“The baby?” he said, his voice wooden and cracked, an echo of how he felt inside.

Ishbel made a helpless gesture with her hand, then brushed away a tear that had crept down one cheek.

Her hand trembled badly.

“There was a man called Ba’al’uz,” she said. “He was responsible for the deaths in the Outlands and Central Kingdoms and for taking me from your side. He—”

“The baby?”

“Ba’al’uz killed the baby, Maxel. Just after she was born. I’m sorry.”

She, he thought. A daughter.

He sat in silence for a long time, unable to look at Ishbel, and unable to accept even the concept of the death of the child he’d wanted so badly.

A daughter.

He had his hands clasped in front of him on the table, and they turned over and about themselves as he tried to unmuddle thought and emotion.

“Maxel,” Ishbel said softly, “I am so sorry.”

“I came so far for you, Ishbel. For you and our child. It has been so hard. So difficult.”

Her heart tore apart at the pain in his voice, and she clasped her hands to her face in a useless attempt to stem the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again. “I didn’t think…I thought you’d just go back to Escator, forget me.”

“Forget you?”

“I thought you hated me. Maxel, I’m sorry. I—”

“Stop telling me you’re sorry! I don’t ever want to hear that again! For months I have abandoned my kingdom, all my responsibilities, brought trusted friends into danger with me, and for what? For what? A wife who has been disporting herself with a man in the very process of invading her homeland?”

“I thought you hated me, Maxel.”

“Don’t call me that. You have abandoned the marriage and you have abandoned me. Do not think to address me so familiarly.”

Ishbel closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath before reopening them and forcing herself to look at Maximilian.

“Isaiah offered me comfort and compassion,” she said, her voice low. “If I had known that you had wanted me, were coming for me…oh, gods, Maximilian, why is life so full of ‘ifs’?”

He said nothing, refusing to look at her.

Ishbel began to babble, wishing she didn’t feel the need to speak further excuses, but unable to stop herself.

“I was so upset when our daughter died. I wept for days. Isaiah…he was so good to me. He has such compassion. He offered me comfort, not judgment. He did not even want to judge me for being the archpriestess of the Coil—”

Ishbel stopped, appalled at what her babbling had brought her.

“Oh, what lies you have told me,” Maximilian said, looking directly at her now. “I tore the earth apart for you, and for what? For what?”

He stood.

“I will say this to you one time,” he said, “and then I will never, never allow these words to pass my lips again. I loved you, Ishbel. You. The loss of you wounds me more than the loss of the child.”

There was an infinitesimal pause. “You have broken my heart, Ishbel, and in the doing ruined my world.”

He stared at her a long moment, then left the room.