TODAY IS TOO LATE Read Online Free Page B

so much she could do. Unfortunate images would not leave her alone: the empress bleeding out, a stillborn heir, the royal family’s blood all over Einin’s gown. She would have to kill herself, knew this, and tried to push down the doubts. Whenever Ishma groaned, Einin imagined herself visiting the axman.
    She felt the small vial of poison secreted in her belt. The glass bit into her hip. They had known the risks, and the empress planned contingencies, schemes within schemes, and assured Einin the putrid liquid would be gentler than Azmon’s interrogators.
    “It’s all right.” The words didn’t mean anything anymore, but she hoped they comforted. “Everything will be fine.”
    Moans gave way to panting. Ishma fell back into her pillows. She looked spent, raven-black hair matted with sweat, a pinkish flush in her clammy cheeks and a puffy redness around her eyes. She had spent hours struggling with waves of pain followed by brief moments of exhaustion.
    Einin wiped her brow. She had no idea if this was normal or things grew dangerous. She had never bothered to learn about childbirth. The Royal Court of Rosh had a small army of physicians. But that was the problem. The empress did not want the court to know of the birth.
    “Water.”
    Einin lifted a glass to Ishma’s lips.
    Ishma said, “I think it’s close.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “God, I hope so.”
    Einin bit her lip at the blasphemy. The longer the birth lasted, the more informal they became. She had helped Ishma dress for banquets before, but now she held the woman’s life in her hands. Pain erased the boundaries between them. They were distant cousins and distant friends, a rigid relationship. Einin might pass as her sister, but no one would mistake the two. Ishma was the great beauty of Rosh, the Face That Won a War. Even pregnant, Ishma’s cheekbones made Einin appear common.
    Ishma closed her eyes and arched her back. Her eyeballs rolled behind their lids, and she gasped as she inhaled. Einin’s hand shot out, covering Ishma’s mouth before she screamed. They fought. Ishma pulled at the hand and shook her head.
    “Forgive me.”
    The spasm passed. Ishma’s shoulders sank back into the blankets. Her exhausted eyes sought out Einin’s, and she nodded once.
    “I will check the door. Are you all right?”
    Ishma waved her away. Sweat dripped from her forearms as she covered her face and panted.
    They had done what they could to muffle the noise: heavy drapes over the four-post bed, hangings on the walls, and blankets stuffed into the cracks around the door. Pillows choked the windows. The extra layers with the summer heat made the room an oven. It smelled of unwashed flesh.
    Einin rested her ear against the Shinari oak. The wood was smooth and cold. She heard the scratch of her hair, the thunder of her pulse, but nothing worse. She feared squabbling noblewomen, imagining a knot of them outside the door about to barge in. So far, no one had noticed the birth, and their plan worked.
    The empress cried out, and Einin about dropped to her knees. Thoughts of the poison vial filled her with dread. She lunged for Ishma.
    “Empress, that’s too loud.”
    A sneer twisted the royal face. “I don’t care.”
    Einin clamped her hand over the empress’s mouth. A sharp pain tore into her fingers. Ishma bit her. Einin pulled her hand back. She tried to swallow her own cries.
    “I can’t breathe when you do that.”
    “I’m sorry. But you make too much noise.”
    “It’s coming. It’s now.”
    “Okay.”
    “Help.”
    “How?”
    “Just help.”
    Einin crawled into the bed to support her convulsing body. She had no idea what she was doing. Terror had been replaced with a sense of failure. She cradled the empress, powerless to stop her pain. Ishma pushed at the sheets. Einin used one hand to hold her and tried to pull away the rest of the sheets, but they stuck to the empress. She was naked, covered in sweat, and the blankets would not be kicked