Dark Matters_ Ghost Dance (Book 2) - Christie Golden [23]
She was not even at the high table tonight
For the briefest of moments, panic seized her. She
lifted her head proudly and strode toward the nearest table, searching casually for her name.
Jekri Kaleh, Chairman of the Tal Shiar, was toward the end of the third table out of five.
It could be worse, said the voice in her head. You could be at the last table. Or not invited at all.
Perhaps I should not have come, Jekri thought coolly. I do have my business to be about, after all. You came when called, like the fvai you are, Lhiau sent savagely. Jekri winced in pain. And you'll bark when I tell you to.
Jekri Kaleh was no stranger to hatred, but never before-not when her body was at the mercy of thugs in the street, not when groveling before a brutal master, not when she had been forced to murder a friend to save the reputation she had so carefully crafted- had she known the white-hot, sweeping flame of hatred that swept through every cell at this moment.
She had to stop this. She had to stop Lhiau from crawling around inside her brain as if it were his right
Jekri pulled back the chair and sat. On either side were lowly civil servants and their mates. She realized that her being at this table was causing a mild sensation, and she tried to appear calm, as if she normally sat with these-these-instead of at the left hand of the Empress.
With as much casualness as she could muster, Jekri looked toward the head table. At the center, of course, was the Empress, resplendent in a low-cut, clinging gown of diaphanous purple material. The jewels that adorned throat, ears, and hair gleamed of gold and lavender.
On her right was the Praetor, who looked perfectly at ease. Sitting in Jekri's accustomed place, of course, was the hated Lhiau. Jekri's lip curled in disgust as she watched him fawning over the Empress, contriving to touch her hand or shoulder, brushing a phantom lock of hair out of her eyes. What was even worse was how the Empress visibly blossomed under Lhiau's attentiveness. Her expression grew softer, the painted green lips curling up into girlish laughter. Her eyes never seemed to leave his.
The full horror of it smote Jekri. Lhiau was seducing the Empress! Not with charm or gallantry, not if she knew him, and Jekri knew she did. He was worming his way inside the Empress's normally keen mind. The Praetor had already told Jekri that it-was Lhiau who had arranged for Jekri to attend. There could be only one reason for that.
Lhiau leaned close to the Empress "and whispered something into her delicately pointed ear. She laughed, and as she pulled back from Lhiau her gaze fell upon Jekri.
At once, the full lips thinned. Her eyes narrowed.
Jekri tasted full, real fear for the first time in a long time. She hoped desperately that she would walk away from this evening's activities still chairman of the Tal Shiar. Then she amended that hope.
Jekri Kaleh hoped she would walk away from this evening's activities at all.
The Proconsul, seated to the Praetor's left, rose. He lifted a goblet of blue ale. "A toast!" he cried.
There was the sound of dozens of chair legs
scraping along the stone floor as those assembled rose and lifted their glasses.
'To the glorious Romulan Empire!"
Shouts of hearty agreement filled the room as everyone quaffed their ale. Jekri sipped only a little; there would be more toasts and nine courses through which to nurse this glass.
"To the Empress! The brightest star in the Empire!" the Proconsul continued. Usually these toasts were the right of the Praetor, but everyone knew how the Praetor detested public speaking and avoided it when he could.
They drank the health of the Empress, the Praetor, the Proconsul, the Senate. Everyone was about to sit down when Lhiau rose, surprising them.
"One final toast," he said in