Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [152]
Iaris yawned. “It does not matter. Your presence is requested. You will go.”
Defiance tightened the skin around Elandra’s eyes, but before she could speak, Iaris was striding toward her.
“Don’t be a fool!” she snapped. “You are his prisoner, as are we all. Thus far, he has treated you with the greatest courtesy, but that could change in one snap of his fingers.” Drawing a gown from Elandra’s journey chest, Iaris flung it at her. “Get dressed.”
Within the hour, Elandra was beautifully gowned and her auburn hair was sleeked back in a heavy coil at the base of her neck. Her topaz hung in its pouch between her breasts, and she kept her hand on it for comfort as she walked through the corridors of Tirhin’s villa with her head held high.
Guards were stationed throughout the house. They snapped to attention as she passed them. She glanced at their weathered faces, seeing experience and long years of service in every crease and scar. Crimson cloaks hung from their shoulders, proclaiming them as the elite Imperial Guard, but most of them had the rough look of common foot soldiers, as though they had been pulled from the ranks for Tirhin’s service.
None of them met her eyes. Elandra kept her expression confident and assured, as though she was accustomed to being summoned by her sworn enemy in the middle of the night. But her heart was pounding in short, hard jerks. It was one thing to belittle Tirhin and defy him in public. It was another to face him alone, without protectors or allies. She felt as though she were marching to battle, and she went armed with nothing but her wits and a sleeve knife. If she still possessed any courage, it seemed to be in tatters at this moment.
“If you have no bravery, at least pretend to the enemy that you do,” her father used to instruct his troops.
Elandra clung to that advice now, wishing her father were walking at her side. But this she must face alone.
She was escorted downstairs to the ground floor. The house was all shadows and golden pools of lamplight, filled with hushed quiet.
Her escort paused at a pair of carved doors and knocked quietly. The doors were opened a crack.
“The empress,” her escort said.
The doors swung inward, and Elandra’s guards stepped aside. In unison they saluted as she walked alone into the room beyond. Then the doors were closed behind her.
Elandra found herself in a study. The room was square and small, with a vaulted ceiling. Animal skins lay upon the polished marble floor. A heavy wooden desk had a map spread across its surface. A burning lamp cast soft light. Shelves filled with scroll cases flanked a tall window. Busts of learned philosophers were displayed on pedestals according to an old-fashioned notion that the likenesses of great thinkers could impart wisdom. The room smelled of leather and old parchment.
She drew a deep, steadying breath. This civilized room reassured her. Although she knew herself to be foolish in thinking so, she felt marginally safer here.
The individual who had admitted her now bowed. It was Agel, the healer.
Recognizing his thin, handsome face and cold eyes, Elandra lost her assurance. She stared at him, feeling suddenly afraid, and did not trust her voice enough to speak.
Agel gave her a perfunctory smile, as though he could read her thoughts. “Please wait here. Sit if you wish.”
Elandra glared at him. “How kind of you to give me permission,” she said regally.
He flushed, frowning, and left the room through another door behind a tapestry.
As soon as he was gone, Elandra paced over to the window. She stared out into the hostile darkness, sensing the evil that lay within it, feeling the evil here around her. Her fingers rubbed the cold glass, tracing the tiny bubbles and imperfections within its surface. With every passing moment, her agitation grew.
A sound behind her startled her. She whirled around, gasping for breath, her heart like thunder within her breast.
Tirhin came limping into the room, using a carved ebony cane for support.