Shadow War - Deborah Chester [61]
Bowing, he said, “If your Majesty would remove your veil and hood.”
She could not hesitate, could not betray any nervousness. It was said that healers from Trau possessed extraordinary powers. They could remove all kinds of hurts with a simple touch. She marveled at such abilities, but she was not sure she believed. Kostimon had an old man’s desperation to try anything that would ease his aches and pains.
Lowering her veil, she pushed back her hood and faced the healer. Gravely he seemed to gather his concentration; then, with a frown, he pressed his fingertips against her forehead.
“No,” he murmured and shifted his touch around to her left temple.
The pain flared harder inside her skull, throbbing wildly for a moment, then it eased. Suddenly it was gone, as though it had never been.
Elandra’s eyes widened. She drew in her breath sharply. “It’s gone.”
The healer stepped back and bowed again. “Yes. But your Majesty must heed my advice to rest. Also, you should avoid salt in your diet for a few days. These simple precautions will insure that the pain does not return.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. Impressed by him, she marveled at his skills. Kostimon was wise to bring this man to court. He should have done so years ago.
Nodding, the healer moved to his cabinet and began taking down bottles. “I will make an infusion which you might drink later with tea, just before you retire. It will help you sleep.”
“Yes. That would be helpful,” she said, keeping her tone as formal as his.
“Your Majesty should not wait,” he said. “It will not take long to make the infusion, but I shall be happy to see it delivered—”
“No,” she said sharply, fearing poison and interference. Anyone might meddle with it on the way. “I shall wait.”
“My humble study is not comfortable.”
“No,” she agreed, putting up her hood and veil again for warmth. “But I shall wait.”
He did not protest further. Gathering his materials, he walked out into the passageway and shut the door quietly, leaving her alone.
Sighing with relief, she sat down and massaged her temples. Miraculously, the pain was still gone. She felt restored, and some of her edginess was fading. Even this dreadful, icy room was better than her own quarters. At least it was quiet and utterly private. She shut her eyes a moment, sinking into the tranquility.
The window slid open with a scrape, startling her. She looked up at a man’s head and shoulders framed within the window’s opening. He was climbing inside.
Even as she scrambled to her feet, he pulled himself the rest of the way through and dropped to the floor like a cat.
He was immensely tall, taller even than the healer, with broad, muscular shoulders and a tangled mane of golden hair. Dressed in filthy rags, he was covered in grime from head to foot. His blue eyes glared fiercely, darting here and there in feral distrust.
Elandra regained her startled wits immediately. “A thief,” she breathed, and gathered herself to scream.
Faster than thought, he was across the small room and on her. Her cry was cut off by his hand pressing roughly against her mouth. He pushed her back against the wall and pinned her there with his body, holding her fast despite her struggles. He stared at the door, but her guards had not heard her. They did not come to her aid.
“Be quiet, or I will choke the life from you,” he whispered harshly.
She heaved against him, but he might as well have been a rock. His hand was crushing her lips. She drew them back from her teeth and bit him.
Sucking in a breath of pain, he shifted himself slightly and gripped her throat with his other hand. The pain was immediate and terrifying. She couldn’t breathe at all.
Then his crushing fingers lifted from her throat, and she sagged weakly, struggling to draw in air.
“Now be quiet, and I will not hurt you more,” he said.
She started coughing. Her throat burned like fire.
He seemed to take her coughing for assent, for he released her slowly and cautiously. Lifting his hand from her mouth, he held up his forefinger in warning.
“Remember, not a sound,” he