Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [85]
When Albain and Bixia reached the foot of the steps, the cheers cut off as though in relief.
Silence flooded the courtyard, in its way almost as grueling as the heat.
Elandra met Bixia’s enraged green eyes briefly, then dropped her own. She dared not look at Hecati at all.
Beneath her veil, she took short, shallow breaths and knew reprisals would come.
Albain’s one good eye was squinting balefully. As the two generals dismounted and approached side by side, he gestured for them to step back.
Wooden-faced, they saluted and did so.
Bixia plucked at Albain’s sleeve. “Father, you saw how they insulted me. I will not receive them.”
He turned his glare on her. “You will,” he growled in a low voice. “Or, by the gods, I’ll take a strap to you. Soldiers will cheer whom they please, and you got plenty.”
“But it wasn’t the same. Not after she ruined everything.” Bixia swung her gaze to Elandra. “You cheap schemer! How dare you come down before me. I’ll—”
“Compose yourself,” Albain broke in. “Hell’s breath, Bixia, remember who you are.”
“I am future empress,” Bixia said snappishly. “I will not be demeaned by this bastard upstart of yours.”
Elandra’s face flamed hot with fresh embarrassment. She stepped forward to speak, but Bixia pointed at her.
“I shan’t have her in my caravan. Scheming and conniving, who knows what she’ll do next to embarrass me? Send her away, Father. I command it!”
Albain’s face turned purple. “You command me?” he roared, forgetting the need for discretion. “Murdeth and Fury, I’ll brook no such impertinence, not even from you!” Abruptly he lowered his tone. “You are not empress yet, girl. Until the crown sits on your head, see that you remember that.”
Bixia stuck her nose in the air. “In two months I’ll—”
“Go on as you are today, and I swear I’ll break off the arrangement.”
Bixia blinked and turned pale beneath her sheer veil. She stared at him a long while, as though to make sure he meant it. Then her gaze shifted to Elandra and filled with tears.
“Why do you favor her?” she asked. “Why are you so good to her and cruel to me? She has ruined today, ruined it.”
Bixia started to snivel, but Albain gripped her wrist and drew her close to his side. “By the gods, you’ll stop this and compose yourself. Now! Do you hear? Start acting like the empress you want to be. Straighten your sour face and receive these officers properly.”
Bixia gulped and sniffed. “Why do you scold me? Elandra is the one who has spoiled everything.”
“Elandra, at least, knows how to keep her poise and act properly in public,” he growled back, making Bixia gasp.
Wide-eyed, she gulped and straightened her shoulders.
“That’s better.” Albain glared once again at Elandra, who hadn’t dared move, then gestured at the two generals.
Both came forward impassively as though there had been no delay.
They were presented to Bixia, who received them aloofly, her voice cold with hauteur.
Still red-faced, Albain beckoned to Elandra. She came forward reluctantly, embarrassed and uncertain as to whether her father was furious with her or simply disappointed. Over to one side, Hecati threw her dagger looks.
“My natural daughter, Lady Elandra,” Albain said to the commanders. “She also travels under your care, sirs, to be received and prepared for marriage by the Penestricans.”
“We are doubly honored, Lord Albain,” the general of the Imperial Guard said. He spoke Lingua with an odd, flat accent.
Alud Handar, general of the Gialtan squadrons, bowed respectfully to Elandra. His eyes were warm and friendly in his stern face. “We shall guard these precious pearls of our lord and master with our lives.”
“Then good journey,” Albain said gruffly.
He took Bixia’s hand and kissed it according to protocol. “Farewell, my daughter,” he said formally. “I count the hours until I can bestow your hand in marriage.”
“Goodbye, Father,” Bixia said haughtily. “I await our reunion.”
They glared at each other for a moment longer; then Albain turned to Elandra and clasped her hand in both of his big calloused ones. “Have courage