Her Infernal Majesty
The kingdom remained eerily still as the third bell tolled.
Three bells meant someone had died. It was how the royal family announced the news to the people.
The prince was dead.
As sudden as it felt, it was hardly a surprise. This was not the first death of a prince in this land.
It wasn’t the second either. Or third. Or fourth.
No. This was prince number five. Five husbands for Princess Sera. Five men who had met a tragic end not too long after their wedding day.
The first had contracted an illness. Explainable. Even understandable, given how far he had travelled to get here. All the way from the west. It would be easy to contract an illness along the way.
The second met his end in an accident. Struck by lightning, of all things.
People called it an act of God. A freak incident nobody could explain. Who could have guessed such a thing would happen?
When the third passed, nobody could reasonably blame anyone else. After all, he should have learned to chew his food. Choking was hardly anybody else’s fault.
By the time the fourth burial happened, the whispers had begun.
Surely Princess Sera was behind this? Was she cursed? Was the kingdom cursed? Would there even be a kingdom in the end? Without a marriage, there were no heirs. The royal bloodline would end.
But nobody could confirm the rumours. A heart attack of an overweight man was understandable.
And now. The fifth.
Dead with another logical explanation.
He’d been older than the others. Almost frail.
From the Kingdom of Makaria. Prince Herald was second in line behind his older brother. Both old. Both almost undying. It was a running joke that Herald’s nephews would never inherit the throne, since he and his brother wouldn’t die.
Therefore, most people assumed this was why he agreed to marry Sera.
Perhaps it was why. Perhaps that was what he thought himself, when he travelled to Eastreach to marry her.
Whatever he believed, though, it wasn’t enough. After merely three days of marriage, he died in his sleep. Peaceful. No signs of foul play.
Though that didn’t stop the rumours.
The whispers.
Sera did it. Sera killed another husband.
The bells still echoed in her mind, haunting her. She knew the sound well by now. Five husbands. Five deaths.
She didn’t want this to happen. It hadn’t been her intention. It hadn’t been her fault either. Not really.
It was not she who killed these men.
Though she did not regret their deaths. Not at all. Not even one of them.
Part of her felt evil for thinking this way. But another part of her realised that the whole situation was evil. Not her. And not her...
Her.
She who was responsible for all of this.
Sera had no logical idea why or how this was possible; she just knew it was.
Every time she married another man, she would be visited by her. Eshmira.
Usually, the visits came the night before the wedding, then the night after the death.
Usually, the bells had stopped ringing in her head by now as well.
This time felt different, though.
Sera sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing the dark clothes she had worn to the burial. A servant had brought her supper, but she had sent it away untouched. She had also sent away the ladies who wanted to sit with her and offer their condolences. They meant well, she supposed. There was only so much sympathy a woman could accept for a husband she had known for less than a week.
The fifth had been a polite man. She would give him that. He had spoken more about his aching knees than about their marriage, and had fallen asleep during their first supper together. Sera had found herself rather fond of his habit of falling asleep. It meant she could be left alone.
Now he was dead, and her father was already thinking about what came next.
There was always something next. Another alliance. Another prince. Another wedding gown, another feast, another man who believed he had come to claim a wife.
Sera pulled the pins from her hair and laid them on the table beside her. Her reflection looked back at her from the polished mirror. She was young still, but she was beginning to feel very old.
“You could have waited,” she said to the empty room.
A low laugh came from the shadows.
“And leave you to suffer that dreadful old man another night?”
Sera did not turn around immediately. She smiled instead, despite herself.
“He wasn’t dreadful. He was actually rather nice.”
“He snored.”
“Most people do.”
“And he called you his little jewel.”
“Well, he was trying to be affectionate.”
“He was trying my patience.”
At last Sera turned.
Eshmira stood beside the curtains, as though she had been there all evening. She wore crimson silk, gathered at the waist with a gold belt. Fine chains hung against her dark hair and across her brow, and jewels shone at her throat. Her sleeves were light enough to move with the slightest turn of her wrist. The shadows behind her seemed almost reluctant to let her go.
She was beautiful. Sera had thought so from the very first night she had seen her.
Not that Sera had known what she was then.
“You took your time,” Sera said.
“I was waiting until you were alone.”
“I’ve been alone for hours.”
“Then you should have called for me.”
“You don’t always come when I call.”
“I always hear you, though.”
That was the trouble with Eshmira. She said such things so easily, as though they were ordinary. Sera had never quite learned how to react when she did.
Eshmira crossed the room and took the pins from Sera’s hand. She set them beside the others, then began to loosen the last of Sera’s hair.
“You look tired.”
“I’ve buried my fifth husband.”
“Yes. A tiring business, funerals.”
Sera looked up at her with a frown. Of course, even now, she didn’t quite know why Eshmira even wanted her. Why would a creature as beautiful as her even waste time with her? Or, the real question was, why would she kill for her?
"Eshmira.”
“Sera.”
“Did you do it?”
Eshmira looked at her through the mirror by the table as if it was a way of not looking directly at Sera. Although when she replied, she didn’t even pretend not to understand.
“He was old.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He had a weak heart.”
“That isn’t an answer either.”
Eshmira leaned down until her cheek was almost against Sera’s. “Would the answer change anything?”
Sera looked at their reflections. The princess in mourning. The beautiful stranger who was no stranger at all.
“No,” she admitted. “I suppose it wouldn’t.”
The first time Eshmira came to her, Sera waited for a wedding she did not want. She had been frightened, angry, and too young to understand why everyone called her fortunate. Her first husband was a prince from the west. He had arrived with horses, gifts, and a promise of friendship between kingdoms. Nobody had asked Sera what she thought of him.
That night, a woman had appeared by her window. No guard had seen her enter. No servant had opened the door.
She had told Sera not to be afraid.
Naturally, Sera had been terrified.
Yet the woman had returned, first after the prince’s death, then on nights when the palace felt particularly lonely. They had talked. Sera had asked questions. Eshmira had answered some of them and laughed at the rest. In time, Sera learned the stranger was not mortal, that she ruled things Sera did not understand, and that she had known of the princess long before the princess had known of her.
Eshmira had watched the royal household from afar for years. Its bargains, its quarrels, its endless hunger for power were all familiar to her. But only when Sera was grown and facing her first marriage did Eshmira approach her. Whatever had first drawn the demon queen to the palace, their love had begun in those secret meetings, slowly and against every sensible expectation.
Sera had been the first to kiss her.
She still remembered Eshmira’s expression. For once, the demon queen had looked surprised.
And now five men were dead.
“People think I murdered them,” Sera said.
“People tend to think of many foolish things.”
Sera rolled her eyes. Didn’t Eshmira realise the gravity of the situation?
“My father has heard the rumours too.”
“Your father is more concerned with his bloodline than with his daughter.”
“He does love me, you know.”
“Then he has a peculiar way of showing it.”
Sera stood and faced her. “You can’t go on doing this, my love.”
Eshmira’s smile faded.
“Doing what exactly?”
“You know what.”
“Protecting you?”
“Killing my husbands.”
For a moment, the room was silent. Outside, the palace guards called to one another in the courtyard. Little did they know what was going on inside. That their princess was in love with a demon queen, and that queen was responsible for all the deaths around the castle.
“None of them deserved you,” Eshmira said at last. She looked almost upset.
“They didn’t all deserve to die either.”
“Perhaps not. But they sealed their fates the moment they laid eyes on you.”
Sera had not expected her to concede even that much.
Eshmira took her hands. Her fingers were warm; they always were. In their time together she had learned that demons ran hot.
“Every time they send you away with another man, you look at me as though I am abandoning you. I cannot bear it. I cannot bear seeing you promised to somebody who doesn’t know you, who doesn’t love you, who sees nothing but a princess and the children she might give him.”
Sera stared at her, gobsmacked by the admission. Of course, she knew Eshmira loved her, but hearing it said like this. So openly, and with such reverence.
“And what do you see?”
Eshmira brushed her thumb over Sera’s knuckles.
"You.”
It was such a small answer, but it did more to Sera than any grand declaration ever could have done.
This was the woman she loved; that is who Sera saw. Not a demon. Not a monster.
“You’re terribly possessive of me, aren’t you?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Sera laughed, then caught Eshmira by the front of her silks and kissed her.
The kiss was not gentle at first. It held the anger of the funeral, the fear of another marriage, and all the words Sera could never speak in daylight. Eshmira answered it with a hand at her waist, drawing her close until there was no space left between them.
“I missed you,” Sera said when she could speak.
“I know.”
“You could just say you missed me too, you know?”
“I have missed you every moment I have been away.”
_*That_was better.
Eshmira kissed her again, more slowly. She slipped the mourning shawl from Sera’s shoulders and let it fall across the chair. The heavy fabric had been scratching at Sera’s neck all day. Without it, she could finally breathe.
They moved towards the bed, stopping twice because Sera kept laughing at the sound of Eshmira’s jewellery catching against the buttons of her dress. The demon queen, who could command dreadful things, seemed briefly defeated by a stubborn fastening.
“Hold still,” Eshmira muttered.
“I thought you were all-powerful.”
“I am considering setting this dress on fire.”
“You will do no such thing. It’s one of my favourites.”
“Then help me.”
Sera did. When the last fastening gave way, she drew Eshmira down beside her. They kissed beneath the thin curtains of the bed, and Sera let herself enjoy the warmth of the woman she loved without thinking about kings, princes, or bells. Eshmira’s kisses travelled from her mouth to her throat. Sera closed her eyes and held her closer.
For the first time in days, she felt herself entirely.
Eshmira lifted her head and studied Sera’s face.
“What?” Sera asked.
“I was wondering whether you intended to spend the entire evening looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“As though you’re trying to decide whether to kiss me or scold me.”
“I can do both.”
“I know. And you often do.”
Sera caught the gold chain at Eshmira’s throat and tugged her down for another kiss. It was a foolish thing to do to a queen who ruled the infernal realms, perhaps, but Eshmira only smiled against her lips.
“There,” Sera murmured. “That was the kiss.”
“And the scolding?”
“Later.”
“How thoughtful of you, darling.”
Eshmira brushed the loosened hair away from Sera’s cheek. The playful look on her face softened, and for a moment Sera could see the woman who came to her window on lonely nights, who listened when nobody else did, who remembered things Sera had told her years ago and thought forgotten.
“Tell me to leave,” Eshmira whispered, “and I will.”
Sera’s hand tightened in the silk at her shoulder.
“Don’t you dare.”
“As my princess commands.”
“Oh, don’t start calling me that!”
“You are a princess.”
“And you are...”
“Are what, my love?”
Sera kissed her again in response, hoping that would be answer enough.
Beyond the bed curtains, a draught stirred the candle flames. Eshmira drew the coverlet over them, and Sera settled into her warmth with the familiar relief of being held by somebody who wanted nothing from her except herself. There was no court here, no duty to perform, no husband waiting to be pleased. Only the woman she loved, with her terrible temper and her ridiculous jewellery, looking at Sera as though she were the most precious thing in any kingdom.
“I wish you could stay,” Sera whispered, her eyes wide, looking up at her in awe.
“I am here now.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, darling.”
Eshmira kissed her forehead, then her cheek, and finally her mouth. Sera drew the curtains closed around them, shutting out the last little view of the chamber.
Sera’s hands trembled against the silks her lover wore. It was usually easier than this, to undress her, but tonight she felt nervous. Perhaps it was the funeral, or the thought of another marriage waiting just beyond these walls. She wanted, just for tonight, to forget them both.
“Relax,” Eshmira’s silky voice breathed against her ear. She shifted, letting the silks fall from her body.
They took their time together, enjoying and cherishing one another.
The candles burned low. Beyond the chamber walls, the palace went to sleep, and neither woman cared what the morning might bring.
Much later, Sera remembered that there would, in fact, be a morning.
“My father will find me another husband,” she whispered into the darkness.
Eshmira lay beside her, running her fingers through Sera’s golden-brown hair.
“No.”
“You can’t simply say no.”
“I can. I just did.”
“He’ll send letters. He’ll invite princes. He’ll tell me it’s my duty. And if another one dies, I think the entire kingdom may decide to have me executed.”
"Nobody will touch you.”
“That isn’t a plan.”
Eshmira was quiet for so long that Sera lifted her head to see whether she had fallen asleep. The idea of a sleeping demon queen made her smile.
“I’ve been thinking,” Eshmira said, then paused. “There will be a sixth husband.”
Sera sat upright. “That is what I was worried about! You cannot—”
“Listen to me,” Eshmira tried to stop her, but Sera kept talking, clearly panicking.
“Five is quite enough!”
“The sixth will be the last.”
“That’s what I hoped for the third, even the fourth one.”
Eshmira smiled, seemingly unbothered by this. Sera didn’t understand why she wasn’t taking this seriously. After all, she had been the one to kill these men. Surely even a demon queen would understand that this was unsustainable.
“The sixth will be me.”
Sera stared at her like she had grown another head. Then she laughed.
Eshmira did not.
“You cannot marry me,” Sera said. “You are a woman, and a demon. My father isn’t exactly fond of either of those things.”
“He wishes you to marry a prince.”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall be a prince.”
Sera frowned, clearly confused by what she had said.
Eshmira rose from the bed and stood in the centre of the chamber. The candle flames bent towards her. For a moment, her shadow grew larger than the room, stretching across the ceiling in shapes Sera did not recognise.
Then the woman before her changed.
Her dark hair shortened. Her features shifted, her shoulders broadened, and her voice, when she spoke, was lower than before.
A handsome prince stood where Eshmira had been.
Sera stared for another moment.
“Oh, that is dreadful.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You look very pleased with yourself.”
“I look magnificent.”
“You look like a man who spends an hour admiring himself in a mirror.”
“Then I shall fit in perfectly at court.”
Sera wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t. Too many questions ran through her mind.
“And where exactly will this prince come from?”
“Far away.”
“That isn’t a kingdom.”
“Somewhere beyond the eastern mountains.”
“And his name?”
Eshmira paused. “I’ll think of one.”
“Very convincing.”
“Darling, I have persuaded kings to surrender their thrones. I think I can persuade your father to permit a wedding.”
Sera’s face fell as realisation sank in. “And afterwards? What about an heir?”
“There are many ways to secure a kingdom’s future. Adoption. A relative. A child named by the crown. Maybe other means. We shall deal with that when it comes.”
“My father will not like that answer.”
“Your father will hear whatever answer he needs to hear.”
Sera watched the false prince cross the chamber and kneel before her. Eshmira took her hand, absurdly solemn.
“Princess Sera. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
“I’ve been your lover for years.”
“That was not my question.”
“You’ve killed five men.”
“I am aware.”
“You are quite possibly the worst person I could marry.”
“And yet?”
Sera looked into the eyes she knew, unchanged beneath the borrowed face.
“Yes,” she said. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Eshmira kissed her hand.
“Then let us give your kingdom something to celebrate.”
The prince arrived at court eleven days later.
He arrived with a procession of horses, a gold-decorated carriage, and gifts that left the royal household speechless. There were silks finer than anything Sera had seen, stones that caught the light in strange colours, and a carved chest that seemed much larger on the inside than it ought to have been.
The servants whispered that the prince was terribly handsome. The ministers admired his manners. The king was delighted by his apparent wealth and his willingness to marry a daughter with such unfortunate luck.
After hearing it, nobody could quite remember his homeland’s name. Whenever someone asked, they got a satisfying explanation and immediately changed the subject.
Sera noticed this. She also noticed that her father’s oldest adviser, a man who questioned everything, had suddenly grown fond of the visitor.
Magic, she supposed, had its uses.
The prince bowed before the king and announced his intention to marry Sera. He spoke of honour, devotion, and the prosperity of both kingdoms. He promised to care for her until his last day.
Sera nearly laughed at that last part.
Her father was cautious at first. After all, he had already buried five sons-in-law. But the prince seemed unafraid of the supposed curse.
“I do not believe your daughter is cursed,” he told the king. “I believe she has been unfortunate.”
For the first time, Sera heard somebody say it in front of the court without a hint of suspicion.
Her father looked almost grateful.
They arranged the wedding before the month was over.
Sera wore embroidered silk, with gold at her wrists and flowers woven into her hair. Guests filled the palace courtyards. Musicians played beneath the arches. The air smelled of incense and sweet cakes, and the whole city seemed determined to celebrate a marriage that might, at last, survive.
There were still whispers, of course.
Some said the prince was brave. Others said he was foolish. One older woman claimed the princess had bewitched him, closer to the truth than she knew.
When Sera stood beside her groom, she felt none of the dread she had felt at the other five ceremonies.
Eshmira took her hand.
Nobody else saw the small smile she gave Sera.
Nobody else understood why Sera smiled back.
They exchanged their vows. The court cheered. The king looked relieved. And the bells rang again, not for a death this time, but for a wedding.
Sera had never liked the sound of those bells.
That day, she did.
That evening the servants escorted the newlyweds to their chambers, offered their blessings, and finally left them alone.
The handsome prince locked the door.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?”
“Was I not an excellent prince?”
“You were unbearable.”
“Your father adored me.”
“You told him you enjoyed hunting.”
“I do enjoy hunting.”
“Not the sort he meant.”
“He didn’t ask for details.”
Sera shook her head. “You flirted with half the court.”
“I was being charming.”
“You told the high priest the heavens had blessed our union.”
“Who is he to argue?”
The prince’s face shimmered. The borrowed form fell away as easily as a cloak, and Eshmira stood before her once more. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her gold ornaments glimmered in the lamplight.
Sera went to her without hesitation.
“I thought I might never get to do that,” she said, kissing her.
“Marry me?”
“Marry someone I love.”
For once Eshmira had no clever reply.
And so Princess Sera married for the sixth time.
Her husband did not fall ill. He did not meet with a dreadful accident, choke upon his supper, suffer a failing heart, or die peacefully in his sleep after three days of marriage.
In fact, her sixth husband lived for a remarkably long time.
The king eventually stopped worrying. The court found new scandals to discuss. As for the matter of heirs, the royal family settled it in time, although the details were never quite as simple as the ministers would have liked.
The people of the kingdom remembered Sera as a princess who had endured five terrible tragedies before finally finding happiness.
They never learned the truth.
They never knew that their prince was a demon queen, or that the deaths of five unfortunate men had been arranged by a woman who could not bear to see her beloved married to another.
Perhaps it was best that they didn’t.
For Sera and Eshmira lived happily together, and there were no more funerals to interrupt them.
Considering how the story began, that was indeed a happy ending.
