The Gypsy Queen (43 page)

  Bastion followed briskly, but not in chase. He stepped out of the palace, seeing her run down the street towards the city gates. He went the same direction. He strode with focus, gritting his teeth as he watched her go. He ignored everything around him, walking with determination. He got to the gates, and watched as she left the city of
Jedikai
, heading for the west meadows. He turned, and pounded his fist on the gatekeeper’s door.

  “Eh? What’s this?” Gumi said, opening the door.

  “King Bastion!”
Pook said, coming up behind Gumi
.

  “Forgive me Sire,” Gumi said, “We were just shutting down for the night. The night watchmen will be on duty shortly,” he rambled.

  “What can we do for you, your majesty?” Pook asked. The King did not look happy at all.

  “Shut the gates to the city,” Bastion said.

  “Sire? The gates have not been shut at night for years,” Gumi said, confused. King Bastion looked over at Pook.

  “Shut the damned gates,” he said.

The old gatekeepers shuffled off in a hurry, to carry out the King’s orders.

_______________________

The Gypsy Que
en- CHAPTER 25- “broken”

 
Yana
tore through the west meadows, keeping her head down under her hood, so no one would speak to her. She did not want anyone to see her cry. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and made for her wagon. All she could think about was hitching up her horse and getting the hell out of
Jedikai
- as far as she could go.

  She got to her wagon and flung her bag inside, climbing in after it. She crumpled into a sobbing mess, attracting the attention of her nearby friends. She was hurt, angry, and heartbroken... she could barely think at all, overwhelmed with love and grief for her darling Bastion.

  “
Yana
?” Emilee poked her head into
Yana
’s wagon. “Are you all right?”

Yana
said nothing in reply, unable to do anything but cry. She felt so alone, and desired for nothing more than to lay in the curve of Bastion’s body for comfort. The fact that she would never feel his comfort again only brought forth more tears.

  Emilee motioned to Luba, near their fire, and Luba followed her as Emilee climbed into
Yana
’s wagon. They laid next to her on either side
and said nothing, letting
Yana
’s emotions cry out, lending what comfort they could.

  Some time passed, and
Yana
had grown silent. Luba spoke first.

  “Healing will come,
Yana
,” she said.
Yana
did not believe it. There was no way this pain would leave her heart, and it could never be repaired. She was broken, and would be broken her whole life. She could not be restored.

  “
Yana
!” a voice called out. It was Lyubov.
Yana
sat up quickly.

  “
Yana
!” Lyubov called again. The three of them fumbled all over each other as they tried to get out of the wagon.

  “You are not supposed to be up!” Luba said. Old Lyubov was standing with a big blanket wrapped around her, and coughed feebly in response.
Yana
ran up and embraced her dear old gypsy friend tightly, and began crying all over again. Lyubov patted her head, and whispered words of comfort in Romany language.

   “What you do?” Lyubov asked gently.

  “I left,”
Yana
said. “I left the city. I left Bastion.”

  “You sit,” Lyubov said, leading
Yana
to the campfire.

  “Lyubov, you must go lay down,” Luba said. “You need rest.”

  “Nyet!” Lyubov said. “You sit too.” Luba did as she said.

  “Why leave?” Lyubov asked.

  “I don’t want to be queen,”
Yana
said. “It is too much.”

  “You accept King, da?”

  “I accepted the man,”
Yana
said, “but I cannot accept the rest.” Lyubov shook her head.

  “Wrong,” she said.
Yana
’s surprise at her remark was interrupted by Jaelle, the girl she had saved from the dungeon at Tatu, who had been looking after her things.

  “Drink?” Jaelle offered, extending forth a bottle of rum.
Yana
took it and drank deeply, and handed it back.

  “Thank you, Jaelle,”
Yana
said. “I needed that.”

  “You don’t need,” Lyubov said.
Yana
was irritated that Lyubov was being cross with her.

  “Tell me, Lyubov,” she said, “what would you do?” Lyubov dismissed the question with a wave of her hand.

  “Where your heart?” Lyubov asked simply.

  “My heart?”
Yana
replied. “I gave it to Bastion.”

  “Where is it?” Lyubov pressed.
Yana
realized what she was asking.

  “In the center of his crown.”
Yana
thought of him looking so regal at his Coronation, with her stone set in the center. She hung her head, trying not to cry again.

  “Where your crown?” Lyubov asked patiently.

  “Next to his. But it is not mine,”
Yana
answered. 

  “No?” Lyubov said. “Then why gypsy heart in it?”
Yana
looked at her, thoughts clicking into place.

  “Why does the crown of the queen hold the heart of a gypsy in its center?”
Yana
asked
, thinking of the Alexandrite.

  “You know why,” Lyubov said.
Yana
said the words she suspected.

 
“Bastion’s mother was a gypsy, wasn’t she?”
Yana
said.

  Lyubov smiled and nodded.

  “Bastion’s mother was a gypsy?” Emilee chimed in. “The last queen of
Jedikai
, a gypsy??”
Yana
shook her head at the realization.

  “Impossible,”
Yana
said.

  “Nyet. Not impossible,” Lyubov said.

  “You knew her, didn’t you?”
Yana
was getting at Lyubov’s secret.

  “Da. I knew her,” Lyubov said. “Kesali. Spirit of forest.”
Yana
opened her mouth to ask questions, but stopped herself. It didn’t matter anymore.

  “What was she like?” Luba asked
Yana
’s question for her.

  “She was pretty gypsy, like you,” Lyubov said. “Pretty gypsy like
Yana
.”
Yana
covered her face with her hands.

  “And she died a slave to the palace,”
Yana
snapped
.

  “Nyet,” Lyubov said. “She died gypsy.”

  “Like hell she did,”
Yana
said. She reached out and took another hard swig of the rum from Jaelle.

  “Lyubov, you must rest, you are not well,” Luba insisted once more. Lyubov nodded as she coughed, and Luba began to help her up.

  “
Yana
, your heart in there,” Lyubov said, pointing towards the city.

  “My heart is nowhere,”
Yana
said. “I am free.”

  “You not free,
Yana
,” the old woman said.

  “You not free.”

 
Yana
took another drink of the rum, saying nothing, as Luba escorted the old gypsy back to rest in their wagon. She stared into the fire, remembering the night she had first tracked the black riders. She had felt restless, f
ull of chaos, that night... much like
she did now. She poked the fire with a long stick, still drinking. Luba returned, after seeing Lyubov back to bed. She was glad to have
Yana
back here, like old times, amongst the others of their caravan. Still, it was not the same.

  “I want to leave tomorrow,”
Yana
said. “We break camp.”

  “No, we do not break camp tomorrow,” Luba said. “Lyubov is too sick to travel. You saw her yourself.”

  “She can travel,”
Yana
argued.

  “If we travel now, she will die. I am working on a cure for her. She will not go. I will not go,” Luba said.

  “We wait for Lyubov,” Emilee said.
Yana
looked around in anger. These same people used to listen to her. Now, they were embarrassing her.

  “Will you go by yourself?” Luba asked.

  “No,”
Yana
said with disgust, “I will not go by myself. But what if Lyubov does not get better?”

  “Then we wait until she is dead.”

 
Yana
stood up. She wanted to scream, but it was futile. She stared at the fire, still feeling its hypnotic heat. She looked at Luba, feeling the rum swimming in her head.

  Luba looked at her, deeply concerned. The dead, empty look in Yana’s eyes was the look she had seen when she had searched for
Yana
in her crystal ball. She seemed to be hovering between pain, death, and nothing at all. Luba remembered what she had seen in the ball. That dead, empty look, and a man whose face was that of a wolf. She was very afraid for her friend. The idea that they could break camp, and go back to how everything used to be, was dashed. Everything was different.
Yana
was different. I wonder, Luba thought, who the man-wolf could be?

  “We wait,”
Yana
said, her speech drawn out a little. “Wait until I am dead.”

  “You are not dying,” Emilee corrected her.
Yana
looked at her drunkenly.

  “Yes. I am.”

 
Yana
got up and
began to walk to the north, out into the darkness. Jaelle hurried up behind her, and took the rum away. She set
Yana
’s black cloak on her shoulders.

  “Come back to the fire,
Yana
,” Jaelle urged her.

  “I want to be alone,”
Yana
said, as she walked. Jaelle stopped and stood still, letting
Yana
wander further away into the night by herself.

  “Black rider,”
Yana
mused to herself aloud, feeling the cloak in her hands. “I am a black rider. A killer,”
Yana
said to herself. “A gypsy killer,” she slurred. She stopped and stood, as a wolf cried out over the meadows, from somewhere in the forest.
Yana
tried to tell what direction it came from. Maybe she could run with those wolves after all.

  “Oi,
Yana
,” a friendly voice called out.

 
Yana
turned to her right, in surprise. It was Draiman.

  “Oi, Draiman,”
Yana
said. “Come to kill me, have you?”

  “Of course not,” Draiman assured her. “What are you doing out here?”

  “It’s over,”
Yana
said. “You were right. I should have listened to you.”

Draiman’s face showed surprise. His luck was so good, it was ridiculous. He thought of his deep hatred for Bastion.

  “I am sorry for that,” Draiman said. “At least you escaped, before he made a slave of you.”

  “Escaped,” she said. “Yes. I escaped.”

  “You didn’t belong there anyway,” Draiman said.

  “Nope. I tried to tell him,”
Yana
agreed.

  “Now you can get back to your old life, back on the road,” Draiman said.
Yana
dropped to her knees, exhausted, fairly drunk, and full of anguish.

  “Here, I will help you,” Draiman said, coming to take her arm.

  A forlorn wolf howled in the distance.

 
Yana
barely noticed.