Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [2]
With all her heart she wished she had. But she could not bring herself to lie, not even to comfort him. “No,” she said softly. “I am Elandra, and I come alone.”
His fingers tightened on her wrist, digging in. “Ela,” he said suddenly in a changed tone. “Of course. Ela!”
“Yes,” she said, forcing a smile through tears. “Your Ela.”
The emperor’s yellow eyes narrowed and grew fierce. Pushing her away, he advanced on the general.
“Paz!” he shouted. “You damned lazy incompetent! You told me she was dead, that all the women were dead—taken in the first assault. You never checked, did you?”
The general’s mouth opened, but he said nothing. His eyes met Elandra’s shocked ones, only to slide away. “The reports came to me. I had no reason to doubt them—”
“What else have you lied to me about?” Kostimon demanded furiously. “Persuading me to break off the defense, to run and hide like a peasant afraid of the dark. Bah! Vysal, tell me the truth. What is left of our forces?”
“Sir!” Snapping to attention, Vysal said, “They were scattered in the initial assaults, and deployed in small pockets of resistance.”
“What the hell is this?” Kostimon roared. “I know how the Madrun devils fight. They surround, cut off, and massacre. Are you telling me the Guard cooperated like sheep?”
“It was by your order, Majesty,” Vysal said nervously.
Red flared in Kostimon’s face. He raised his fists. “I gave no such order! What is—”
“You have been betrayed on all sides,” Elandra broke in. “Your dispatches were false. Your most trusted advisers were either misled or have joined the conspiracy. Many of the Guard have gone over to the enemy rather than be slaughtered.”
Kostimon turned on her, and the anger in his face sagged away. “Would you also lie to me, my dear?” he asked more quietly. “Have you been a part of this?”
She gasped, too outraged at first to deny it. She had come this far, had escaped fire and demons and the attacks of men. She felt as though she had been running all night, and she would not be insulted now.
“It is true,” General Paz said swiftly. “She has conspired from the first with Prince Tirhin against your Majesty. They plan an alliance with—”
“That is not true!” Elandra said. “How dare you accuse me of such wickedness?”
The general met her angry gaze without flinching. A sneer curled his thin lips. “The oldest story in the world. A son, impatient for his inheritance. A young wife, beautiful and alluring, bound to a husband so much older. Is it not natural they should turn to each other?”
Elandra found herself shaking with fury. The top of her head felt icy cold, while the rest of her was on fire. That someone could stand before her and utter these bold lies to her face was unbelievable. And yet the cruelties of her childhood had taught her how to hide hurt, how to keep her face a mask when she had to, how to stiffen her lips to keep them from trembling, how to fight back tears. She could see Kostimon listening, could see the calculating shift in his gaze as he began to wonder. She wanted to grip him by the arms and shake him. Was he under some spell that he could swallow such slander? But she must control her emotions if she was to survive. She must think, and quickly, in order to find some way to convince him of her innocence.
“Why have I risked life and limb to come here to you, if what the general says is true?” she asked.
“No doubt she has led the Madruns directly here to our hiding place,” the general said.
“Then we have even less time to make our escape,” Vysal said.
Tears stung Elandra’s eyes. Was the loyal captain now turning against her too? Was there no one to believe her?
She glanced about for Hovet, knowing she could appeal to the gruff old protector. But for the first time, she realized he was missing. Her gaze shot around the cavern, darting from face to face, but his sour, weathered countenance was nowhere to be seen. If he was not here, neither at the emperor’s heels nor within the emperor’s sight, then he must be dead. Regret passed through her. For all his surly manners, he had been a faithful man, true