The Shining Falcon

She glanced down at him, lying motionless, only the faint movement of his chest proving he still lived. The iron pin had worked too well, subduing his will so firmly that he was nearly in coma. But at least the thing was doing some good! While it kept him in that deep, dreamless sleep, his fever-exhausted body had a chance to heal. In fact, the fever seemed to have broken, much to Ljuba's relief.

But what about the effects of the potion? Had he sweated that out, too? Ljuba sighed wearily. She didn't dare give him another dose, not as weak as he was. If she left the iron pin in place, he'd never be able to truly wake. But if she removed it, and the potion no longer bound him, she was doomed.

It was all too much for her to bear. Ljuba rushed from the room, leaving orders to the servants to summon her if there was any change in the prince's condition, hurrying she knew not where. She narrowly avoided a collision with some homely young woman servant.

«Fool! Get out of my way!»

«Ah‑Lady Ljuba?»

«Of course, you idiot!»

«Wait, lady, please. I've heard of your troubles, with that stained caftan, I mean, and— Well, I think I just may be able to help you!»

Maria had been hard put to keep her voice light and casual. It hadn't proven too difficult for Semyon to smuggle her into the palace with some of the real servants, it hadn't been too difficult to wander her way towards the royal quarters, she hadn't even had too long a wait before Ljuba had come tearing out of there as though possessed. But now that she was actually face to face with the woman—

Akh, Ljuba was beautiful! Even now, looking haggard, she was so beautiful that Maria's heart ached.

How can Finist love plain, unbeautiful me, when every day he's faced with this golden wonder?

And yet… he had wanted to wed Maria, not treacherous Ljuba.

But this was no time for self‑doubt, while Ljuba was shouting angrily for her to stand aside. Maria saw the sorcerous rage in those lovely eyes, hot as the heart of hate, and was very much able to believe that this exquisite creature had tried to kill her. Fighting down her terror, her urge to run, Maria stood her ground and told Ljuba, with feigned cheerfulness, how she knew of that stained caftan. She concluded with:

«Well, I think I just may be able to help you!»

Ljuba tensed. «What do you mean?»

«It isn't nice perfumey stuff such as you ladies use, but…»

«Out with it, girl! What are you trying to say?»

«Only that I've got a concoction of sorts, a soap we use back in my village. It gets most any stain out of anything.

And I don't doubt it'll take the bloodstains right out of that caftan you've got, and let you w-wed your prince!»

Would Ljuba accept Maria's story? It was a bluff, of course. Still, to judge from those marks of strain on Ljuba's face, she must have reached the point of being willing to try anything.

And so it was. «What is your price?» she asked.

«No more than you can pay, lady," answered Maria, rather surprised at her own blitheness.

«So.» Ljuba hesitated, absently tapping a long, elegant finger against a perfectly curved lip. «Come with me» she said. «You'll have your chance. Of course," she added over her shoulder, in so casually cruel a voice that Maria shuddered, «you do understand that if you fail, if you damage the caftan in any way at all—you'll die.»

Chapter XLVII

Counterspells

LJuba walked ahead, not once checking to see if Maria—who, not being as tall as the elegant sorceress, had a shorter stride—was keeping up with her. It was only to be expected, Maria thought. Why should the Regent of Kirtesk care about the comfort or discomfort of a mere servant? At least this frantic scuttling didn't give her time to be afraid.

A respectful servant cast open a door so finely crafted and ornate that it could only lead to the royal suite.

«There," said Ljuba.

For one brief moment, Maria thought they were facing some manner of bizarre altar, complete with silken altar cloth. Then she saw dark, brownish stains marring the shimmering fabric.

The caftan—and Finist's blood.

Ljuba gave her a sharp glance. «Have you suddenly turned squeamish?»

«Uh… No, lady, of course not. I was… only pitying the poor, wounded prince, that's all.» Boldly, Maria moved forward to the caftan. But when she tried to pick it up, her hand was stopped by empty air that felt quite solid. «There seems to be a magical barrier around it, lady.»

«Of course there is, fool! Did you think I'd let any idiot touch it?» Ljuba gestured with a flicker of supple fingers, and the barrier was gone. Convenient, Maria thought, and gently picked up the caftan.

Ljuba was watching. «There is purified water in that basin. Do you need anything more?»

«No, lady.» Maria hesitated, waiting for Ljuba to leave. But Ljuba showed no sign of stirring. «Uh, lady, it's all right, you don't have to stay, really.»