Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [71]
“The bridal robe has been sewn under a special blessing,” Hecati said furiously. “I packed it away in this special box for safekeeping with my own hands.” Hecati’s voice faded away and she glared at Elandra, her face turning redder with every passing second. She gripped Elandra by the arm, her fingers digging in like claws.
“You got it out, didn’t you?” she accused. “You wanted to see it, knowing no hands must touch it until the wedding day. You wanted to ruin Lady Bixia’s happiness in any way you could. You jealous little bitch!”
She slapped Elandra a hard, numbing blow, and would have hit her again, but Elandra wrenched free. Hecati lifted the switch to strike her. Elandra caught it and pulled it away from her.
The switch vanished in her grip as though it had never existed. Elandra gasped, and backed away in fear. “What magic is this?” she whispered, then ran for the door.
“Magan! Trina!” she called. “Send for a jinja—”
An invisible hand gripped her throat. Elandra stopped in her tracks and put her hands to her throat, where the pressure was choking her. It tightened, closing off her air until she writhed in desperation.
Then the pressure ceased, and she was free.
Gasping and coughing, Elandra dropped to her knees and gulped in lungfuls of air. Her throat burned with pain.
Fear grew inside her, a cold, numbing fear that made her legs feel as weak as water. Her heart was pounding as though she had run up the thousand steps of the palace. She shuddered and closed her eyes. But she could sense the magic in the room. Her hair tugged at her scalp as though it stood on end from static electricity. She could smell something very faint but unpleasantly scorched. She swallowed hard and refused to look at Hecati.
The old woman strode over to her with a swish of her long skirts. “You force my hand,” she said in a low, furious voice. “Damn you!”
Elandra shook her head and lowered herself like a toad. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t—”
“You have gone too far,” Hecati told her. There was something horrible in her voice, a menace beyond mere anger. Elandra bit back a moan of fear and shivered. “Too far! I give you one last warning to tell me the truth now regarding the robe, or I’ll carve open the back of your worthless skull with my fingertip.”
She ran her fingernail over Elandra’s head, and Elandra flinched. It was all she could do not to leap up in terror.
Instead, she crouched at Hecati’s feet, hating and fearing her as never before. Her mind was blank. She was sweating in the rising heat. She felt like she would be sick, and yet she had to find an answer.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Speak!”
The command made her jump in her skin. Her heart whammed harder. Elandra struggled to find her voice.
“Bixia took out the robe because she wanted to try it on.
She—”
Hecati cried out in rage. “You’ll regret this, you she demon. Everything you’ve said is a slandering, scurrilous lie.”
Elandra raised herself in desperation, hurling the naked truth now like a weapon. “Ask Bixia! How else would I be allowed to touch anything to do with the wedding? Ask her!”
“I will not disturb her precious sleep with such a trifle. Why should she defend you?”
Why indeed? Elandra thought bitterly. Bixia was certainly capable of lying when it was to her advantage.
“Fool!” Hecati paced back and forth, fuming. “You have ruined it. Where is it? Give it to me at once.”
Guilt sprinkled over Elandra. Now it would be inspected. Hecati would find where it had been spot-cleaned. She would find the wrinkles. She would see the unfinished hemming. She would notice the practice stitches that Elandra had botched before she caught the knack of the difficult embroidery.
“I didn’t know it was that special,” Elandra said, trying to defend herself. “Lady Bixia tried it on and was angry that it was too long. She threw it on the floor and I—”
“Be silent. You have always tried to cause all the trouble you could, but this action is unpardonable.