Shadow War - Deborah Chester [106]
The Keeper of the Imperial Jewels stood watching her with a pleasant expression belied by the wariness in his eyes. She knew she was being judged for her reaction. It was important that she not make an enemy of him, but neither must she appear weak.
Her gaze met his levelly. “I will not be overlooked again,” she said.
“No, Majesty.”
“While the Empress Fauvina’s jewels are admirable, they were suited for today’s occasion only. I will not continue to wear them.”
He bowed. “A prudent decision, Majesty.”
“I will acquire my own collection, fashioned from my jewel of choice.” As she spoke, she thought of the topaz concealed between her breasts. “As Keeper of the Imperial Jewels, will you be my adviser, or do you serve the emperor only?”
A protocol question was always safe. The man’s expression relaxed slightly, and he smiled. “I should be honored to advise your Majesty. Establishing your own collection is an eminently wise course of action. It prohibits certain interpretations.”
She frowned. Was that a warning?
He continued. “As for selecting designs and commissioning a maker ...”
“Yes? The jewelers of Imperia do not seem particularly inspired.” As she spoke, her mind considered the possibility of sending business to Gialta. The Albain family jewels were very fine.
The keeper allowed himself a small chuckle. “Majesty, may I say that the imperial jewels are always fashioned by the Choven? Imperia jewelers must make do with occasional trinkets, baubles for gifts, and the like. They principally serve the aristocrats of the empire, but not the imperial family.”
Elandra grew very still. Mentally she sent forth a quick prayer of gratitude that she had not made a serious error this morning. Collecting herself, she gave the man a gracious nod. “You have been most helpful. My jewel of choice is the topaz.”
“Ah,” he said. “The golden hues. Splendid.”
“You will see to this at once?”
He bowed. “Tomorrow I will send forth a message to the Choven. They cannot be rushed or commanded, but their craftsmanship is unsurpassed.”
She nodded, catching a glimpse in the mirror of a gesturing attendant. It was time for her to go. “Thank you.”
She rose to her feet, elegant and graceful in her imposing gown. The diadem flashed brilliantly from her auburn curls with every movement of her head.
The keeper bowed deeply and departed with his attendant guard and the locked box containing the larger crown of state. Elandra watched him go. She did not know if she had made an ally of him, but at least he was not her enemy. In the maze of palace politics, even that might be counted as a small victory.
Head high, she swept out to go to the banquet, aware that if Kostimon did not attend there would be talk and speculation. For a moment she felt daunted, but then she steadied herself. One step at a time. She must remember that and not allow herself to be overwhelmed by the challenges that still lay ahead.
At the doorway to the banqueting hall, however, she found her path blocked by Prince Tirhin. He bowed to her, his eyes shadowed, his expression far from welcoming.
Every eye was watching them. Elandra swept a swift glance around at the sea of faces, then forced herself to face him.
“Are you once again my escort?” she asked.
Tirhin’s teeth were clenched, but he gave her his arm with an outward show of gallantry. “If the empress commands it.”
She did not know if once again he was following his father’s orders, or if he had some other intention in mind. They walked up the length of the vaulted hall together while the guests bowed and curtsied. At the head of the table, servants seated them with one empty chair between them— Kostimon’s.
Lord Sien appeared, a gaunt, enigmatic figure in his saffron robes and leopardskin stole. He bowed before taking his seat on Elandra’s other side. Having him next to her made her profoundly uneasy, but she refused to