Shadow War - Deborah Chester [74]
“Who gave you this paper?” the Magria asked.
“A man named Miles Milgard. He is my political tutor.”
“You trust this man?”
Elandra’s eyes filled with tears. She fought to hold them back. “Yes. I—I thought I did. Was I meant to die?”
“Yes. The smoke could have killed you. Had you been closer to it, you would be gravely ill now. Had you handled it in your litter, you would be dead.”
Elandra felt icy cold. She shivered, hugging herself. “Why would he do this to me? I cannot believe he would turn against me.”
“The Vindicants have many ways of turning people. How well do you know him?”
Elandra frowned, struggling to concentrate. She must be objective, she told herself. She must put aside her memories of this man, must put aside her emotions. “I have spent an hour with him daily for nearly a year,” she replied slowly. “I have found him patient, a good teacher, always kind, and considerate. He is from good family, if undistinguished. He has spent his life earning a living from teaching.”
“Perhaps he did not know,” Anas said slowly. “Perhaps he was used as a tool.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps.” The Magria brought her fist down on the arm of her chair. “This was a serious attack. Whoever lay behind it is desperate enough to risk using magic openly. Now, girl. It would seem you have more resourceful enemies than we thought.”
Elandra stared at her. “Who else?”
“Don’t be a fool! Anyone with a stake at getting the throne for themselves. The prince. The Vindicants. The Maelites. The Madruns. Choose one or several. There could be more.” She scowled. “You were to marry and bear children. You were not intended to be at the center of a political storm.”
“It was Kostimon’s decision,” Elandra said defensively. “He told me he consulted with you and—”
“Hah! A lie!” the Magria said with a fierceness that silenced Elandra. “He would rather cut off his right hand than consult with me on anything.” She shook her head. “The visions did not show your sovereignty. None of them showed this. Has he learned to confound not only the augurs, but me?”
“Excellency,” Anas began, but was gestured to be silent.
“It is foolish to disregard Kostimon. He has more resources than we,” the Magria said as though to herself. “He did this for a purpose. Perhaps he has more than one strategy in mind.”
“His time must be drawing near,” Elandra said. “The ruby throne has broken.”
She did not know why she blurted out what the emperor had decreed must be kept secret. It seemed to come of its own accord. Besides, she trusted these women more than she trusted anyone else. She needed their help.
Neither Anas nor the Magria seemed surprised.
“It’s a terrible omen,” Elandra said.
They nodded without concern.
“He was furious and a little frightened,” Elandra continued. She looked at them in growing puzzlement. “I do not think he will crown me as more than a consort now.”
That got their attention.
A cool, unreadable smile appeared on Anas’s face. “What brings you to that conclusion? Did you have something to do with the throne breaking?”
Upset, Elandra started to deny it; then her sentence died in her throat. She looked at them in suspicion. “No,” she said, “but you did. Yes! You did, didn’t you? How—”
“Hush,” the Magria said quietly. “The breaking of the throne was foretold at least a century ago. It can hardly be a surprise to him now.”
“I don’t understand,” Elandra said.
“You are not meant to,” Anas told her coldly.
Elandra’s temper flared. She stood up, facing them both. “If I am to be empress, then I cannot be ignored and I will not be toyed with. I am not your puppet, Anas, to be manipulated as you please. You did not foresee me as having any true power, but if the throne comes to me by the will of Kostimon, then you must deal with me as you have dealt with him. With respect.”
Anas stared at her with widened eyes.
The Magria smiled. “Well spoken, girl. You are growing up a little.”
Angered by this patronizing remark, Elandra turned on her, but the Magria raised her hand.
“Careful,” she said in soft warning. “Your rebuke was well delivered,