She nodded and handed it to the woman dressing her hair. The diadem was fitted into place atop her head, and thick locks of her hair were twisted about it and artfully pinned.
“And it complements the imperial jewels of the Empress Fauvina very well,” the man continued.
“You know these jewels?” she asked in surprise. “They are very old.”
“They were also Choven-made.”
“How do you know?”
His smile broadened, and he gave a small bow. “I am the Keeper of the Imperial Jewels, Majesty. It is my business to know.”
She drew in her breath, but did not allow her expression to change. “And as the keeper,” she said pleasantly, “I suppose you are aware of what transpired this morning?”
“Yes, Majesty. A regrettable occurrence. The woman is not a member of my staff. The individuals she bribed in order to gain access to your chambers have been dealt with.”
“Is this all your explanation?”
He allowed himself a very small frown. “In my defense, I will only say that I received no instructions regarding the jewels your Majesty was to wear. Therefore, I sent no member of my staff to await your Majesty’s pleasure. Had I known of your Majesty’s intention to wear the Empress Fauvina’s jewels, they would have been cleaned and presented at the appropriate hour.”
“I see.”
She spoke tersely, aware of the meaning that lay beneath his words. Kostimon had not given his permission for her to be arrayed in jewels. As a consequence, she had been deliberately overlooked by this man. Anger flashed inside her, but she restrained it. This man owed her no loyalty yet. Her supporters comprised a very small circle right now, but she intended to change that. Time and patience were all she required.
The Keeper of the Imperial Jewels stood watching her with a pleasant expression belied by the wariness in his eyes. She knew she was being judged for her reaction. It was important that she not make an enemy of him, but neither must she appear weak.
Her gaze met his levelly. “I will not be overlooked again,” she said.
“No, Majesty.”
“While the Empress Fauvina’s jewels are admirable, they were suited for today’s occasion only. I will not continue to wear them.”
He bowed. “A prudent decision, Majesty.”
“I will acquire my own collection, fashioned from my jewel of choice.” As she spoke, she thought of the topaz concealed between her breasts. “As Keeper of the Imperial Jewels, will you be my adviser, or do you serve the emperor only?”
A protocol question was always safe. The man’s expression relaxed slightly, and he smiled. “I should be honored to advise your Majesty. Establishing your own collection is an eminently wise course of action. It prohibits certain interpretations.”
She frowned. Was that a warning?
He continued. “As for selecting designs and commissioning a maker ...”
“Yes? The jewelers of Imperia do not seem particularly inspired.” As she spoke, her mind considered the possibility of sending business to Gialta. The Albain family jewels were very fine.
The keeper allowed himself a small chuckle. “Majesty, may I say that the imperial jewels are always fashioned by the Choven? Imperia jewelers must make do with occasional trinkets, baubles for gifts, and the like. They principally serve the aristocrats of the empire, but not the imperial family.”
Elandra grew very still. Mentally she sent forth a quick prayer of gratitude that she had not made a serious error this morning. Collecting herself, she gave the man a gracious nod. “You have been most helpful. My jewel of choice is the topaz.”
“Ah,” he said. “The golden hues. Splendid.”
“You will see to this at once?”
He bowed. “Tomorrow I will send forth a message to the Choven. They cannot be rushed or commanded, but their craftsmanship is unsurpassed.”
She nodded, catching a glimpse in the mirror of a gesturing attendant. It was time for her to go. “Thank you.”
She rose to her feet, elegant and graceful in her imposing gown. The diadem flashed brilliantly from her auburn curls with every movement of her head.
The keeper bowed deeply and departed with his attendant guard and the locked box containing the larger crown of state. Elandra watched him go. She did not know if she had made an ally of him, but at least he was not her enemy. In the maze of palace politics, even that might be counted as a small victory.
Head high, she swept out to go to the banquet, aware that if Kostimon did not attend there would be talk and speculation. For a moment she felt daunted, but then she steadied herself. One step at a time. She must remember that and not allow herself to be overwhelmed by the challenges that still lay ahead.
At the doorway to the banqueting hall, however, she found her path blocked by Prince Tirhin. He bowed to her, his eyes shadowed, his expression far from welcoming.
Every eye was watching them. Elandra swept a swift glance around at the sea of faces, then forced herself to face him.
“Are you once again my escort?” she asked.
Tirhin’s teeth were clenched, but he gave her his arm with an outward show of gallantry. “If the empress commands it.”
She did not know if once again he was following his father’s orders, or if he had some other intention in mind. They walked up the length of the vaulted hall together while the guests bowed and curtsied. At the head of the table, servants seated them with one empty chair between them— Kostimon’s.
Lord Sien appeared, a gaunt, enigmatic figure in his saffron robes and leopardskin stole. He bowed before taking his seat on Elandra’s other side. Having him next to her made her profoundly uneasy, but she refused to show this. The man had always frightened her, especially in what he stood for, and she knew he was extremely powerful. Kostimon was said to listen to his council more than anyone else’s. The high priest was firmly entrenched in palace politics, and seemed to know everything almost before it occurred.
Could he read minds? She met his yellow, deep-set eyes briefly and managed a small smile of courtesy. He did not smile back, and his eyes seemed to glow at her, probing deeper than she liked.
Tirhin patted the emperor’s empty seat. “It seems his Majesty has already retired.”
She wished she could do the same. “It has been a long day,” she said neutrally.
Tirhin emitted a short bark of laughter and reached for his wine cup. “Gault, so it has.”
She noticed his hands were unsteady when he put down his cup. From his continued pallor, she guessed he was ill instead of drunk. But there was the banquet to open, and the guests were still standing at their places, awaiting her signal.
She gave it, and with a general scraping of chairs they settled themselves. An enormous roasted swan was carried in on a round silver platter by four sweating footmen. This was presented to her, and Elandra praised it.
At once a majordomo appeared at her elbow with a bow. “If I may carve for your Majesty.”
She smiled. “Take the most tender portion, please, and convey it to Lord Albain with my compliments.”
The man obeyed. Settling back in her chair, Elandra risked a quick glance at Tirhin and saw his face set like granite. Had the emperor been seated beside her, she would have given him the best portion; then he would have returned the favor. But since the emperor was not present, she would honor her father as was only fitting. Tirhin could not expect her to honor him for any reason.
When the laden plate of succulent meat had been carried to Albain, he rose from his place halfway down the table and raised his cup in a toast.
“To the empress!” he said gruffly, squinting through his one eye. “May Gault preserve her.”
The guests rose to their feet, echoing the toast as they raised their cups.
Then followed a long succession of toasts and compliments while the meats grew cold and Elandra’s face ached from so much smiling. She could feel fatigue around the edges of her consciousness, and knew that without the mag
ic of the Mahirans she would have collapsed long ago.
At last the eating could begin. She nibbled at the delicacies, finding most of them too rich for her taste. Lord Sien ate in silence, ignoring everyone. Like Elandra, Tirhin barely touched his food, but he continued to drink steadily.
She marveled at his capacity. “You seem to have a deep thirst, sir.”
His dark head tilted toward her. “Call me Tirhin, mama. We are a family, are we not?”
Heat touched her face, and she bit her lip. “I do not think family is the best term for it.”
His eyes mocked her. “Then what would you call us? A gaggle of unhappy relics?”
“You may be unhappy. I am not.”
“Oh, ho,” he said, sitting up straighter with a sardonic smile. “I suppose you are not. All of Imperia lies at your feet. Or so you think.”
Again she thought of this man’s slave, distraught and torn between loyalties. She was suddenly tired of Tirhin’s petty jealousy, tired of his sulking face, tired of the subtle ways in which he mocked and defied his father.
“I understand you are a devotee of the gladiatorial games,” she said, changing the subject without warning.
The prince blinked, and a faint wash of color tinted his cheeks. “Why, madam,” he said, signaling for his cup to be refilled, “do you intend to become a spectator now that you are released from your bridal confinement? I had supposed you would instead be busy breeding a new heir for the empire.”
Her mouth tightened. He was skating dangerously close to insult. “This sport may begin to fascinate me,” she replied, conscious of Lord Sien listening at her other shoulder. “I understand you own the champion.”
This time unmistakable color darkened Tirhin’s cheeks. He glared into the depths of his cup, and his fingers gripped it so hard they turned white. “Yes,” he said at last, flinging a look at her. “I do.”
“Is that not gratifying?”
“Of course.”
“I understand also that you often take the fellow with you to functions and parties. Is he here tonight?”
“No.”
“What a pity.”
Tirhin gave her a twisted smile. “Now that you have been raised to such exalted standing, do you intend to sample—”
“Tirhin,” Lord Sien said sharply in warning.
The prince frowned and knocked over his cup. Wine spilled like blood across the table linens, and a servant rushed to blot it up.
Caught between them, Elandra looked from one man to the other. The lamplight seemed to fade near her chair, letting the shadows crowd closer; then all was bright and merry again. She blinked, alarmed, and wondered what had just occurred. It felt as thought a spell had been formed and sent, but she was unaffected.
In her lap, her hand clenched hard on her napkin. She wanted to run from this place, but she couldn’t. Fear burned in her throat, but she held it back until her breathing returned to normal. Swallowing hard, she looked at Tirhin, who sat as though frozen, his face bleak with unhappiness.
“You were saying?” she prompted.
He blinked and seemed to rouse himself. His eyes, dark with resentment, gazed past her at Sien. “I only meant to ask if you intend to sample the many public events and amusements of the city, now that you are released from your bridal confinement.”
She replied with inconsequential chatter, but in her mind she was turning over the true meaning of what he had been about to say before Lord Sien interrupted him. It had been meant as an insult, she was certain.
Elandra sighed. If only she could talk in private with this man and convince him she was not his rival, but such an opportunity had not yet presented itself. She was not certain how to arrange it without causing trouble and talk. She did not want Kostimon to get the idea that she and Tirhin were conspiring against him.
“Your highness looks tired,” Lord Sien now said to the prince across her. “Perhaps you wish to retire.”
Tirhin’s fingers tightened around his wine cup; then he nodded without meeting the priest’s gaze. “Yes. If I may have the permission of the empress to withdraw early? I am a little fatigued.”
“You look unwell,” she said in sympathy, aware that his pallor had intensified. He looked like a ghost above the vibrant hue of his tunic. “Of course you may withdraw.”
Tirhin stood up immediately, swaying against the table as he did so. He bowed to her, graceful, debonair, and tense. With one final glance of resentment, he exited the hall.
Now there was only Lord Sien to talk to. Elandra accepted a pastry filled with almond-flavored cream and toyed with the flaky layers, wishing she also could withdraw.
“Take care, Majesty,” Lord Sien said in a low voice.
She glanced at him in startlement. “In what way?” she asked more sharply than she intended.
Her nervousness made him smile toothily. She felt pinned by his gaze, like a little animal frozen before a predator.
“Do not underestimate the prince.”
Elandra swallowed. “I do not,” she said carefully.
“He has not behaved ... wisely of late. But chagrin can lead to darker motivations if it is not checked.”
This cat-and-mouse conversation annoyed her. She took a chance on being direct. “You mean, it can lead to treason?”
Lord Sien blinked; then amusement glimmered in his hooded eyes. “So you know of that, do you?” he asked.
She glanced around, but the servants had momentarily retreated out of earshot. Although in the full view of hundreds of people, she was effectively alone with this man. He spoke softly beneath the general noise of the banquet, and they were in little danger of being overheard.
A cold chill ran through her, but she sat erect in her chair and faced him without flinching. “I do know of a plot,” she said. “Has the emperor also been informed?”
A snort of laughter, quickly checked, came from the priest. “Did you not run to him with the news?”
She went on looking at him, although inside she found herself shaking with nerves. “Did you?”
He smiled without amusement. “It seems, Majesty, that we both have a strong degree of caution.”
“Meanwhile, Tirhin makes his mischief unchecked.”
“Oh, not exactly,” Lord Sien assured her. “The prince is learning the price of certain actions.”
She did not like the satisfied way in which he said that. She thought of the tremor in the prince’s hands, and felt more afraid. Tirhin had never struck her before as a man easily subdued. What had happened to him on the Forbidden Mountain? What had he done? What had he seen?
The priest selected a pear from a dish and began to cut it into small pieces, spearing each with the tip of his dagger, and eating them with relish.
“Might I ask your Majesty’s sources?” he asked between bites. “You are better informed than I expected.”
“My sources should remain unidentified at present,” she replied. “I will only say that my father taught me that information always plays a vital role in any situation.”
“Ah, Lord Albain.” Lord Sien turned his gaze down the long table, where her father sat shoved back from the table, picking his teeth and making jests with the man beside him. “A formidable warrior.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother. Majesty? What did she teach you?”
Elandra’s teeth gritted together. How smoothly and subtly he reminded her of her own illegitimacy. Temper enabled her to lift her eyes and meet his proudly. “My mother taught me how to survive, Lord Sien.”
Again he blinked, as though he had not expected that sort of answer from her. He considered her a long moment, then slowly nodded. “I see.”
She frowned, longing to terminate this conversation. But with him, she did not quite dare.
At the other end of the hall, the musicians were tuning up. There was to be dancing after the feast, but Elandra did not feel up to that. She sat there, willing this man to go away.
Instead, he cut up a
second pear, his hands quick and deft with the knife. “You have had fair warning,” he said now. “Your own informants can supply the rest. Take heed of it, Majesty.”
“Yes.” She knew not what else to say.
“Your guardsmen are wearing their new colors tonight,” he went on. “I advise you to choose a protector as soon as possible. It is your right as sovereign.”
She nodded. “Yes, I have considered it.”
“And will you do more than consider it?”
“Tell me, Lord Sien. In the matter of a protector, must he be from my guard?”
Sien’s deep-set eyes quickened with interest. “No. While customary, it is not required.”
“Then I could choose a warrior from, say, Gialta.”
“You could, although it is inadvisable.”
“Why?”
“It points a direction.”
“I do not understand you.”
He laid down his knife. “It indicates a favoritism to your home province. The empire, Majesty, consists of many provinces all joined together under Kostimon’s banner. That union took a long time to form. It can be broken apart much more easily.”
Again, she had the feeling he was warning her, obliquely, and watching to see if she had the intelligence to understand. Her dislike of him grew.
Sien continued, “That is why the protector is generally chosen from among the guardsmen. Politically neutral.”
“But if I wanted to make my selection elsewhere, I could.”
Sien’s brows lifted. “Yes.”
“If, perhaps, I wanted to choose a Traulander, I could.”
Sudden comprehension leaped in his eyes. “That is unwise, Majesty.”
She had surprised him. She liked that. “Is it? Why?”
“Trau has its own brand of mysticism apart from the rest of the empire. The people are clannish. They seldom venture beyond their own borders. They abhor violence. Few, if any, of them are trained in the high weapons skills required for this position.”
“But if there should be an exception—”
“You mean the games champion, the one who belongs to his highness.”
There it was, out in the open, like a glove of challenge between them. Elandra did not truly intend to select another man’s slave for her protector. The idea was absurd, and would cause unnecessary trouble, yet she wanted to see how far she could push the matter.
Shadow War Page 25
