Crouching under the porch she stared out at the garden searching warily for Efil. The moon had risen, casting pale light across the garden. Below, Braden’s studio lights beckoned. She could see him still at work, and she longed to be with him. She was filled with a desire so intense she was aware of his scent and could feel him stroking her.
Maybe it would be all right to go there. Efil wouldn’t dare force himself into an upperworlder’s house, nor would he dare challenge the tall, hard-muscled artist. She left the porch quickly and trotted down the path toward Braden’s lights.
Efil was standing among the trees halfway down the garden, looking up at her. The fur along her spine and tail stiffened, she backed into shadow. She had begun the changing spell when he started up toward her. She couldn’t see his face and didn’t want to; he was a stranger to her now—they might never have lain together. She didn’t know how she could have lain with him. The idea repelled her.
The change came quickly. She was girl now. He drew near and reached for her. She stepped aside.
“I came to take you home, Melissa. I came to take you back to the Netherworld, and to make you queen.”
“No, Efil.”
“But you must come back,” he said, surprised. “We must formalize the child. There are ceremonies to be performed, the announcement to be made.”
“I’m sorry, Efil.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Once the announcement is made I can begin the formal proceedings to dethrone Siddonie and crown you queen.”
She said nothing.
“Melissa? Do you remember the Netherworld? Do you remember that you will be queen, that you are pregnant with my child? Siddonie can’t have destroyed all your memory.”
She stirred herself. “I am not pregnant, Efil. There is no child.” She watched him narrowly. “I miscarried. The baby is dead.”
He looked puzzled, then his face twisted in anger. He grabbed her shoulders hard. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me.”
“It was very painful, there was a lot of blood. I still hurt, I still bleed some. I wept.” She shuddered, turned her face away. “The child miscarried.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “You’re lying—why would you lie?” His face had turned cruel. “You will have to come back to the Netherworld to prove that. The soothsayer will know.” He bruised her, twisting her around, forcing her to stumble down the terraces toward the portal.
She fought him, kicking, nearly falling as he jerked her on. “There is no baby, Efil.” She was terrified Braden would hear them from the studio, yet she longed to cry out to him. Efil jerked her arm behind her, shoving her on down the terraces. She quit fighting him and went limp so he had to drag her full weight. “I have nothing you want. I’m no use to you. Can’t you understand? The baby was born dead.”
“You’re lying.” Stubbornly he dragged her on. “I need you for the ceremonies whether or not the child is dead.”
She willed herself to hang heavy, remained a dead weight until at last he turned her loose, holding her wrist. She stood facing him, so angry she trembled. “There is no child. I can’t help you. Go find someone who can give you a child—someone who can carry a baby full term.”
“Even if you were telling the truth,” Efil said, “you are still my subject. You will do as I tell you.” He forced her down the last terrace and against the portal, reaching for the handle. “It doesn’t matter if you miscarried. The soothsayer will vouch there is a child—she will do whatever I tell her.”
She stood with her back pressed against the faces of the carved cats, blocking the door. “I will not come with you. I don’t want to be queen of Affandar. You must go back alone.”
His touch was suddenly as soft as butter, making her wince. “We can make another child, Melissa. We can still defeat Siddonie. Why would you throw away wealth and power?”
“You’re not listening, Efil. You’re not hearing anything. I don’t want to be queen of Affandar. Even if you dragged me back, forced me to bed—even if you could, I would make spells to lose the child. And,” she said, “if you tried to force me to lead the Catswold, I would turn them against you, as well as against Siddonie.”
“Listen, Melissa. I will tell you something you don’t know.” He watched her closely. She didn’t like him to look at her so intently. He said, “If you do not return to lead the Catswold, Siddonie will kill them.”
She looked back warily, trusting nothing he said.
“There is a false queen, Melissa. Siddonie is training a false queen to take your place—a Catswold woman from the alleys of the upperworld. Siddonie is teaching her all possible magic.
“If you do not come back,
“I don’t believe you. No Catswold would betray Catswold.”
