Shadow War - Deborah Chester [50]
Approaching her, he gave her a gentle little kiss on the forehead, the way her father might have kissed her goodnight. “Sleep well, little one.”
And that was their beginning, a slowly evolving friendship based on courtesy and respect. She could not have been more grateful.
In this year, she understood she was on trial. She could make no public appearances. She had to keep to her own private quarters in the women’s wing, confined to a suite of rooms and her own small garden. This was chafing. Sometimes she thought she would go mad from all the restrictions. But her Penestrican training helped her.
She read all she could, and her request for tutoring was granted with amusement. Finally, Elandra could have the education she’d always wanted. She took to her studies with zest.
After a while the emperor began to drop by to talk to her. He would quiz her about her studies, and when he found her to be both intelligent and conversant, his visits became regular and longer. They played chess, and he taught her military strategy in the process. Sometimes he would conceal her behind a panel in his audience room while he conducted business. Then he would question her afterward for her reactions and judgments.
With his encouragement, she grew less timid and learned how to state her opinions and even defend them without growing uncertain or confused.
He acted more like a parent than a husband, and began to take pride in her. He showed her off to his chancellors. He deferred some decisions to her. He watched.
And last month he had come to her one afternoon when she was playing the lute in her garden. He dismissed her attendants and took her hand in his rough ones. His yellow eyes had never been so serious.
It frightened her suddenly. She found herself lost in his eyes, in their age, wisdom, and coldness. He was looking at her as though they were strangers, and her heart stopped beating.
Perhaps it was over, she told herself. He had tired of her. She was not feminine enough for him. He had never consummated their union. That alone should have warned her. Now he had come to tell her he was putting her aside. Perhaps she would go to the prisons, or perhaps her father would take her home to Gialta. Her very life depended on the whim of this man.
She tried to meet his gaze bravely, but she found herself trembling.
Kostimon bent over her and kissed her full on the lips, something he had never done before. As a caress it was exploratory and expert, but she felt no spark between them, nothing in him.
Straightening, he stroked her face with his fingers. “Our year is nearly over,” he said.
She struggled to hide her fear, to show nothing except attentiveness. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice not quite steady.
“I have had you all to myself. Now that is ending as the bridal year draws to a close.” He smiled briefly. “In a month you will be crowned.”
She started breathing again, with such a sudden gulp of air she found herself coughing. Reaching for a handkerchief, she pressed it to her lips.
“Forgive me,” she gasped, trying to stop the coughs without success. “I am not heeding you with much composure.”
He laughed at that and touched her hair. “So I see. Did you think I would cast you out?”
“I—” To her mortification, she felt her face burning. She tried to meet his eyes and couldn’t. “I have failed to be a —wife.”
He laughed again, while her embarrassment grew hotter. She longed to throw herself in the reflecting pool.
“Ela,” he said fondly, using his pet name for her. “You silly child, I have no need for a bed companion. There are plenty of those, disposable pretties with no thought in their heads.”
Still staring hard at her hands, Elandra frowned and began pulling her delicate handkerchief to pieces.
“You are so much more,” he said, pride evident in his voice. He put his knuckle under her chin and tilted up her head.