Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [73]
Elandra gathered it up. “It can be cleaned and pressed. I’ll—”
“Take your filthy hands off it. You’re not worthy to touch it.”
Hecati seized one side of the robe and tried to yank it away from Elandra. The cloth ripped, and both of them stopped their struggle, equally aghast.
Elandra was the first to recover. She dropped the robe and backed away. Fear tasted sour in her mouth. She wasn’t going to be blamed for this. She refused to be blamed for this.
She looked around for the attendant, but the girl had vanished. None of the servants were in sight, and even the background chatter in the dressing room had fallen silent, as though they were all listening ... or hiding.
Hecati flung the robe down and turned on Elandra. Her mouth drew back in a grimace, and her eyes held such anger Elandra backed up yet farther.
“You have defiled this, the symbol of a sacred union. It took the woman of Mahira ten months to sew it. Every thread, every stitch was blessed. It was pressed in sacred steam and scented with rosemary and hyssop. It was locked in a box for safekeeping, not to be seen or handled until the wedding night. This is what you have destroyed.”
Elandra’s pulse pounded in her throat and temples. Dismay filled her with every word Hecati uttered. She had not known, for she wasn’t allowed to participate in the trousseau preparations. She had seen none of the fabulous court gowns made for Bixia. Whenever something new was delivered from the dressmaker’s, Elandra had been dismissed from the room by Hecati. Last night, when Bixia offered to model some of her new things for Elandra, it had seemed at last as though they were sisters. Elandra had been pleased by Bixia’s generosity, at least until Bixia had one of her temper fits and ordered Elandra to re-hem the robe.
Had she known of its significance, Elandra would never have touched it. And indeed, she had done her best to save the ruin that Bixia had started and Hecati had finished.
Now Bixia appeared a second time. Her nightgown hung even lower off her shoulder, revealing the heavy top of one breast. She was still yawning. ‘What are you yelling about?”
Mutely Hecati pointed at the robe lying on the floor.
Bixia stared at it and nudged its folds with her toe. “That’s my bridal robe.”
“Yes, my lady,” Hecati said in a hollow voice.
“It’s ruined.”
“Yes, my lady.” Hecati’s eyes stabbed into Elandra like pins. “Your half-sister is to blame.”
“No!” Elandra said. She looked at Bixia in desperation. “Tell her that you asked me to shorten it for you. Tell her!”
Bixia’s green eyes didn’t even waver. “It’s been torn to pieces. Why did you do such a thing? Don’t you care that it’s sacred?”
Her accusation left Elandra stunned. “But I—you tried it on and didn’t like it. You—”
Flatly Bixia said. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never play with my sacred bridal robe. It’s evil of you to lie.”
Hecati’s head lifted and she seemed to grow taller and larger, filled with vindication. A gleam of satisfaction entered her eyes.
I luri punctured Elandra. She tried to fight it off, tried to deny all feeling. Bixia never told the truth when a lie served her better. Elandra should have known Bixia wouldn’t risk getting into trouble.
Hecati rubbed her thin hands together. “Now,” she whispered, glaring intently at Elandra. “The time has come to finish you.”
Elandra drew back, desperately looking around the room for something to fight back with. But how could she fight the forbidden ways? Refusing to give up, she shoved off her growing despair. If she could circle around and reach the door...
“Girls!” Lord Albain bellowed from outside the suite. “Enough dallying. Everything is loaded. The beasts aren’t going to be kept standing while you primp and fool about.”
The three women stood silent, frozen in place.
Elandra gasped aloud in relief and pressed her hands to her mouth. “Father,” she whispered.
The door to the suite swung open, and a slim, green-skinned jinja slid inside.