He had not said that he would petition. He hadn’t had to. His silence was enough to tell her he had no such intention, and she was suddenly angry with herself that she’d allowed it to pass without remark, made love to him again when he’d all but said she didn’t mean enough to him even to try.
She was almost as angry with herself that she’d brought it up at all, fearing even so little was demanding enough to push him away.
The fear grew inside of her that she’d been right, that the poignancy of his lovemaking was his way of saying goodbye.
She wasn’t certain how long he stood beside the bed, staring down at her, but finally he turned, gathered his belongings and left. She relaxed fractionally, but found she couldn’t sleep. Finally, she got up and went into the bath, allowing the water to pour over her until it slowly cooled.
When she emerged from the bath toweling herself dry, she heard the excited chatter of the sheashona in the sitting room. Frowning, she pulled a gown on and went out to see what had excited the little bird. A serving woman was setting a tray on a table near the couch. “What are you doing here?” Khalia demanded.
She startled the woman, who nearly knocked over the goblet that sat on the tray. Steadying it, she glanced up at Khalia. “I beg your pardon, your highness. I thought you might want something to eat before bed. I couldn’t help but notice you ate little at dinner.”
Khalia eyed the woman suspiciously. Her face was unfamiliar … which didn’t necessarily mean anything. She was surrounded by so many servants, she might easily have overlooked a dozen or more. She wondered, though, why and how the woman would have had the opportunity to observe her at the state dinner. “You were there?”
The woman shook her head. “I was helping in the kitchen.”
She seemed anxious to leave, sidling closer to the door even as she answered. Finally, Khalia waved her away. “Thank you. You can go now.”
When the woman had gone, she made her way to the cage, speaking soothingly to the little bird. It settled down after a few minutes and began to sing. Khalia shook her head. “Why were you upset? This room is filled with people more than its quiet.”
Dismissing it, she moved to the tray and saw that the woman had brought a piece of cake and a goblet of wine. Some late supper! Taking the cake, she crumbled a few pieces from it and sprinkled them in the cage for the bird.
The bird hopped from its perch immediately and began gobbling down the crumbs. Khalia laughed. “You are a greedy little thing! I fed you only a little while ago.”
She was on the point of turning away when the little bird staggered. It shook its head, opening and closing its tiny beak a couple of times, as if trying to speak and finally fell over on its side, beating its wings against the bottom of the cage. Khalia stared at the bird, too stunned even to think for several moments. Horror dawned as it struggled to drag in a couple of breaths of air and went still.
“Poison.” She looked down in horror at the crumbs that still clung to her fingers. Finally, she turned and ran to the entrance to her suite and jerked the doors open. The two men on guard glanced at her quickly, stiffening. “Princess?”
She stared at the men, swallowing with some difficulty as she realized she didn’t recognize either man. “The servant who was just here. Find her.”
The guard she’d spoken to glanced from her to the other guard. “We are forbidden to leave our post, your highness.”
Khalia bit back an angry retort with an effort, but she knew the woman had had plenty of time to disappear. It was doubtful, even if the guards weren’t a part of the attempt on her life, that either one had done more than glance at the servant. Finally, she stepped back inside and slammed the doors, bolting them. She didn’t care what they might think of it. She didn’t care if they reported it. She knew they would, regardless of their loyalty. She could not move, or blink, or spit without every movement being reported … and yet another assassin had walked into her room without hindrance.
Crossing the room to the bird cage, she took the bird out and looked down at it in her palm, stroking its still breast. The first sob that tore from her throat was almost startlingly loud in the silence of the room. Covering her mouth with her hand, she took the little bird and disposed of it, and then disposed of the contents of the tray. When she’d finished, she fell into bed and cried until she was too exhausted to cry anymore.
Chapter Eighteen
“What has happened to your little songbird, your highness?” Guiteanna gasped in surprise.
Khalia didn’t turn. Instead, she studied the reflection of the room behind her in the mirror, watching the faces of the women who were once more firmly ensconced in her sitting room. “I set her free,” she said.
Guiteanna turned to look at her in surprise and finally smiled. “I’m so glad you did. I didn’t like to say anything, for I could see you loved it dearly, but it’s considered bad luck to capture one. They are meant to be free. It’s name means ‘joyful sorrow’. It’s said that it will bring both to anyone who captures it.”
Seeing nothing more than mild curiosity, or boredom, in the faces of the women, Khalia looked down at her hands, wondering now why it was that Damien called her sheashona. She’d thought it must be because of the fiery comb atop its head. Now she wondered if it wasn’t because he had sensed that she would bring him nothing but sorrow.
He had not dwelt upon his anxiety about his brother, but she’d seen how close he and his brothers were and she knew he feared his brother was dead already and beyond his help. She’d told Damien that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t sent his brother into danger. Nigel had made his own decision. She knew, though, that it was her fault.
Her coming had turned their entire world upside down. She saw it every day as she met and spoke with people, saw in their eyes the fear that things would become worse for them and their families.
The coronation was less than a week away. She wondered if she would live to see it, or die shortly afterwards of some strange malady. She supposed she shouldn’t have gotten rid of the poisoned food, but what could she have done with it? Offered it was proof that somebody wanted her dead? It could be anybody. The fact that a servant had delivered the tray made it unlikely that it could be traced back to anyone in particular. If she’d caught the servant, things might have been different. The woman could’ve been questioned. Very likely, she would’ve eventually told everything she knew--but then she might have known nothing. Anyone could have handed her the tray.
She wasn’t even certain of whom she could trust any longer. The maids blatantly spied on her. She could get rid of them and bring in others, but there wouldn’t be a lot of point to it as far as she could see.
Coming to a decision at last, she turned to the maids lounging about the room. “I have a head ache. I’d like to be alone.”
The women exchanged curious glances, but none of them wanted a repeat of the previous day and they rose and gathered their baskets of embroidery and books and began to file out of the room. Guiteanna hurried to collect the last of the garments Khalia had discarded the night before and rushed into the bedchamber to put them away. Watching the last of the women file out, Khalia followed them and locked the door, then turned and followed Guiteanna into the bedchamber.
“How did you come to be selected as one of my chamber maids?” Khalia asked, closing the door to the bedchamber behind her. Guiteanna threw her a startled look and finally put a finger to her lips.
Khalia frowned, surprised by the gesture and even more surprised when Guiteanna rushed toward her. “Do not speak loudly, your highness. There are most likely listening devises in the room.”
Khalia wasn’t certain she believed her. It was true that there were many mechanical marvels in this world that stunned her, but she couldn’t imagine how a devise might be invented merely to listen.
“I always scan for them in the mornings when I come, but I was late this morning,” she whispered. When Khalia said nothing, she dug into the pouch that hun
g at her side. Extracting a slender box-like device, she pressed a small button on one side and began walking about the room, waving the device around while Khalia watched her curiously.
When she’d finished, she went into the bath and performed a similar ritual. Finally, she returned, shoving the device back into the pouch, a look of relief on her face. “I didn’t find anything,” she said quietly. “But I still haven’t checked the sitting room.”
Khalia moved to the bed and sat down. “Every morning? You mean to say that someone has been putting these .. . listening devices in my apartment ever since I’ve been here?”
Guiteanna nodded. “Lord Bloodragon sent me to watch over you.”
Warmth spread through Khalia instantly at the sound of his name, but she studied the girl carefully for several moments before she spoke, wondering if she dared allow herself to be convinced only because the girl had mentioned Damien. It seemed more than probable that someone had noticed her preoccupation with him, and even if they hadn’t, they had every reason to believe that she would trust Damien far more than anyone else. Still, the girl seemed genuine enough, and open enough. It was hard to look upon a face of such innocence and believe the person possessing it was capable of subterfuge, particularly murderous subterfuge. “I’m not certain I can trust anybody,” she said wryly.
“You cannot doubt General Bloodragon!” Guiteanna exclaimed, and then blushed. “Oh. You meant me?”
Khalia shook her head. “I’ve no reason at all to distrust Damien. He could have killed me at any time. And I felt that I could trust you even before you said he’d sent you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have approached you at all.” She rose from the bed and began pacing. “Someone tried to poison me last night.”
Guiteanna turned as white as a sheet. “You’re certain, your highness?”
Khalia swallowed against a knot of sorrow at the memory. “I fed the sheashona cake that had been brought to me … I’m certain.”
Guiteanna looked around the room as if searching for a place to sit down. “I don’t understand it, your highness. Nothing is to be given to you without first being tested. The guards would have communicated with the kitchen and checked to see before they even allowed her to enter your suite.”
Khalia shrugged. “Perhaps someone sprinkled poison over it between here and the kitchen. Or maybe the guards were a part of it. When I rushed out to tell them to look for her, they refused to leave their post … and neither man was one that I’d seen before.”
Guiteanna frowned. “They cannot leave their post--for any reason. Anyone who did would be executed forthwith. They would have raised the alarm, however, or summoned someone to search for her.”
Again, Khalia shrugged. “I didn’t tell them what had happened. I was … distraught. I suppose I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Guiteanna nodded her agreement, then glanced at Khalia self-consciously. “That’s completely understandable, your highness.”
Khalia frowned. “It infuriates me that that worm thinks he’s gotten away with two attempts on my life.”
Guiteanna developed a sudden interest in her hands and Khalia looked at her suspiciously.
“There were others?”
She nodded. “At least one. That’s why General Bloodragon ordered that you were not to be served anything, not even so much as a glass of water, that had not been tested. Ordinarily, the testing is done only randomly. But one of the cooks was found dead and General Bloodragon did not feel comfortable about the swiftness in replacing him. The food was checked and found to contain poison … which is also why he arranged to have me become one of your ladies … so that he would have some to test the food and drink when it arrives.”
“And to look for listening devises.”
Something flickered in her eyes, but she nodded readily. “It’s not as if you discuss state secrets here, but he didn’t want them to know at any given moment exactly where you were and what you were doing or planned to do.”
“I doubt there’s much my ‘ladies’ miss,” Khalia said wryly.
“No,” Guiteanna said slowly, “but you don’t trust them and are always careful what you say around them … at least when I’ve been around. Of course, you might trust one more than another, speak more frankly with them when I’m not around. Which I suppose was the reasoning behind the listening devices, the hope that you might trust someone enough to tell them things worth hearing.”
Khalia smiled at her. “I don’t really know why I felt the need to talk to you--I guess because I needed someone to share my fears with--I’m glad, though. It’s a comfort to know that I’ve got someone watching over me.”
Guiteanna curtsied. “You have more people watching over you than you know, your highness.”
* * * *
Despite her fears the night before that Damien would not come to her again, as the evening drew in Khalia convinced herself that he would. Somehow, he would sense that she needed him. Somehow, he would know that another attempt had been made on her life. She sent the women away as she had the night before, but although she paced the room for hours and lay awake much of the night, he didn’t come.
She told herself that it was just as well that he hadn’t. There was no sense in taking such risks, and nothing to be gained, really, by telling him about it now. They had not succeeded and, if not for pure luck, there would have been nothing he could have done for her even if he’d been there.
She would just have to trust that they would not try to poison her again, or that the testers would catch it even if they did.
The following day, the ladies were all a twitter with news, which they discussed openly in front of her, about a maid who’d committed suicide by leaping from the roof of the palace. Both fear and sickness welled inside of Khalia. She did her best convince herself that it was merely a coincidence, but she knew better. The maid had not jumped unless being picked up and thrown over could be considered ‘jumping’. It was almost certainly the woman who’d brought her poison, and the small possibility of tying her to the conspirators had thus neatly been disposed of.
She needed Damien, desperately, but she could think of no way to contact him.
When several days passed and she saw nothing of him at all, even during the day, she ceased to seesaw back and forth between anger and worry and endured anxiety alone. Finally, afraid she would give their relationship away, but too worried to contain her fears any longer, she broke down and asked Guiteanna if she knew anything about his whereabouts. Guiteanna had heard nothing either.
She finally decided that Damien had either left the palace to follow up some lead regarding his brother, or that he had left the palace because he needed to put some distance between them.
That thought almost made her hopeful. Surely, she thought, there must be something more to his feelings for her than pure lust, or even respect for her as his future queen if he found it so difficult to stay away?
It brought her little enough comfort, however. She scanned the petitioners for her hand daily in the hope that his name would appear. It didn’t, but both her suitors and her ministers became more and more insistent that she make a decision. She finally announced that she had made one. She would not chose a consort until after the coronation.
No one seemed very happy about it, but it seemed the fact that she’d made a date to make a decision was enough to satisfy them at least for a little while.
She found it difficult even to remain coolly polite to her uncle after the poisoning attempt. He’d had the gall to ask her about her little songbird. She’d told him the same story that she’d told her ladies, that she’d set it free.
She supposed she had, but it made her ill thinking about it and she found it very difficult to eat afterward, regardless of Guiteanna’s reassurances.
She was almost relieved when the day of her coronation finally arrived. Tensions had wound to a fever pitch as servants rushed frantically about seeing to the last minute disasters and making certain everything was ready.
<
br /> Her maids woke her at dawn the day of the coronation, torturing her for hours over her toilet. Finally, feeling like a throbbing mass of pain from having been scrubbed and buffed and pinched and pulled, she breathed a sigh of relief as she left her suite and was joined by her escort.
The crowd waiting outside the palace roared deafeningly with approval as she stepped through the entrance and onto the stone porch that fronted the palace. Their enthusiasm was almost more frightening than it was thrilling, but as she stared out over the crowd of faces, she realized she felt much the same swell of pride that she’d felt when the army had come to support her. Almost certainty, there were many among them who’d come merely for the spectacle and the entertainment. Just as certainly, there were those among them who hated her as her uncle did and those who doubted her, but she saw gladness, as well, relief, tears, and she knew that many had come because she’d given them hope that she would change things for the better.
Maybe, she thought, this is where I belong.
She lifted her hand and smiled and waved at them, and the crowd roared with approval once more, louder, almost deafeningly. Slowly, she descended the steps and was helped into an open craft that hovered mere inches above the ground. The royal guard fell into formation around her and the other vehicles that made up the procession and the vehicles began to move slowly forward as the army parted the crowd before them.
They arrived at last at the temple of the gods nearly an hour later. Khalia’s face felt numb from smiling. With relief, she climbed from the vehicle and made her way up the towering stairs and into the cool, dim interior of the temple. The coronation itself was interminable. The high priests chanted and waved burning incense around while she knelt until her knees felt as if the bones would break through the skin and her back felt as if it would snap.
They prayed over her for hours, or so it seemed. Finally, the crown was brought out and set carefully on her head. The cape she’d worn was removed and another, much like the one she’d worn to the state dinner, was fastened at her shoulders in its place. She was helped to her feet then and turned to look out over the witnesses that had been allowed to enter the church.
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