Part 46 (1/2)
”Yes,” he said, and his eyes were like stones. ”You are in love with that musclebound brute in my dungeons.”
”It is no secret,” Elandra said. She tossed her head. ”Yes, I love him. I say it proudly and without shame.”
”Oh, he is the type to catch a woman's eye,” Tirhin said. ”But you must learn to conduct your liaisons with more discretion.”
”Caelan is not a liaison,” she said furiously.
”But of course he is. I do not condemn you for your amus.e.m.e.nts, my dear, but the people are more old-fas.h.i.+oned than we. There will be other slaves, handsome ones, in a succession that never has to end, as long as you are sensible.”
”Stop it!” she said, stamping her foot. She loathed what he was saying, what he was implying.
”Don't be a hypocrite, Elandra,” Tirhin said, watching her with cat-cold eyes. ”Your honesty has always been your most striking virtue.”
”I am not playing some lascivious game with Caelan,” she said. ”I am wedded to him.”
Tirhin blinked, looking stunned. For a moment he stood statue-still, staring at her, with all the ruin of his ambitions plain to see in his face. Then rage filled his eyes.
His cane whistled out without warning, and would have struck her if she had not dodged. It hit the chair instead with a vicious thud. Elandra retreated behind the desk, acutely conscious that he was between her and the door. Never taking her eyes off him, she reached for her sleeve knife.
But Tirhin stopped his advance. His eyes narrowed, and he studied her as though he had never seen her before. Calm seeped back into his face, and it became an unreadable mask.
”It is something easily said, this marriage you claim. Do you have proof?”
”Only my word,” she replied.
He snorted. ”Alas, that is insufficient. Who spoke the words of binding over you? The priest can be traced.”
”There was no priest,” she said. ”We exchanged the vows for ourselves.”
Tirhin threw back his head and laughed. ”A common-consent marriage?” he asked, when at last he could speak again. He wiped his eyes and laughed again. ”G.o.ds, what need have I to hire entertainment when you are before me? Am I expected to believe this wide-eyed tale?”
Elandra glared at him, saying nothing.
Finally he grew quiet, and met her gaze. He frowned. ”Tell me this is a jest.”
”No.”
”You have promised yourself without witnesses to a slave?” slave?”
”Caelan is not a slave. Kostimon freed him. He is wellborn.”
Tirhin waved away these distinctions impatiently. ”You know what I mean. He is not remotely of your rank.”
She raised her eyebrows. ”You have no right to advise me.”
”Take care, Elandra,” he said. ”We are family.”
She snorted. ”Do I make you angry? I don't care,” she shot back. ”I love Caelan, and I have bound myself to him.”
”I am prince of the realm, soon to be emperor,” he said angrily. ”I recognize no such marriage.”
She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. ”Whether you recognize it or not, the marriage exists. You cannot force me to the altar, and any truth-light will confirm my claim.”
Tirhin looked furious, and she was satisfied. She had blocked him and his plans. Let him choke on his ire, if he wished.
”We seem to be at an impa.s.se,” she said coolly. ”May I return to my chamber now?”
His eyes glittered, and he limped slowly to the desk to pour himself more wine. As he lifted the goblet, he tapped its base against the wooden box.
”Very well, Elandra,” he said in a voice like velvet. ”The contents of the box are for you. If you like, you may consider it a wedding gift.”
She frowned in suspicion, unable to believe he would accept defeat this calmly. ”What is it?”
With a smile, he placed his palm flat against the lid of the box. ”Do not fear. Open it and see. You will find it an ornament above price.”
Fearing a trick, fearing poison, she refused to touch it.
”Will you not open it?” he asked. ”Shall I open it for you?”
Her frown deepened.
”Yes.” He put down his goblet and picked up the box. Opening the hinged lid, he peered in at the contents and smiled to himself.
Watching him, Elandra thought that truly he was mad. What kind of terrible, bitter amus.e.m.e.nt twisted inside him?
”I will not wear your jewels,” she said in warning. ”Keep your gift.”
”Oh, no,” he said, turning the box around and holding it out to her. ”I want you to see this. Look at it.”
Still she would not.
”d.a.m.n you!” he shouted, his mask suddenly ripped away. Furiously he glared at her and dumped the contents of the box onto the desk. A fist-sized, b.l.o.o.d.y object rolled across the edge of the map and stopped beneath the glow of the lamp.
Elandra stared at it, not recognizing it at first. Then she caught its smell, a horrible smell of blood and raw meat. A memory flashed into her mind. Her father's hounds, being fed meat and sc.r.a.ps after a hunt, the dogs leaping and snapping at the chunks tossed to them by the butcher.
Feeling faint, she drew in her breath sharply.
”It's Caelan's heart, my dear,” Tirhin said viciously. He picked it up and squeezed his fingers around it. Drops of blood landed on the map and spread into the parchment.
Elandra's stomach heaved. She swallowed hard as the room spun around her. ”No,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off Tirhin's b.l.o.o.d.y fist.
”Do you believe me incapable of ridding myself of any opponent, any rival?” Tirhin asked, smiling. ”Nothing will stand between me and the throne. When my chancellors told me that unless you and I are wed, I cannot be immediately crowned, I set to work immediately to remove all obstacles.”
Elandra started shaking. She was so cold, so terribly cold. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she sent him a beseeching look. ”Tell me this is only a cruel joke,” she pleaded. ”He cannot be dead.”
”He is. I hold the proof in my hand. You are a widow, Elandra.”