Authors: Deborah Chester
She drew a deep,
steadying breath. This civilized room reassured her. Although she knew herself
to be foolish in thinking so, she felt marginally safer here.
The individual who
had admitted her now bowed. It was Agel, the healer.
Recognizing his
thin, handsome face and cold eyes, Elandra lost her assurance. She stared at
him, feeling suddenly afraid, and did not trust her voice enough to speak.
Agel gave her a
perfunctory smile, as though he could read her thoughts. “Please wait here. Sit
if you wish.”
Elandra glared at
him. “How kind of you to give me permission,” she said regally.
He flushed,
frowning, and left the room through another door behind a tapestry.
As soon as he was
gone, Elandra paced over to the window. She stared out into the hostile
darkness, sensing the evil that lay within it, feeling the evil here around
her. Her fingers rubbed the cold glass, tracing the tiny bubbles and
imperfections within its surface. With every passing moment, her agitation grew.
A sound behind her
startled her. She whirled around, gasping for breath, her heart like thunder
within her breast.
Tirhin came
limping into the room, using a carved ebony cane for support. Unlike her, he
was attired informally in a linen under-tunic with a long robe of midnight blue
silk belted around him. He moved slowly, with great difficulty, making no
attempt to mask his pain.
“Elandra,” he
said, his voice soft and velvety despite an underlying note of strain. “Thank
you for coming. I thought we might begin anew in private, where we have no need
to act as our rank demands in public.”
His face was as
white as his undertunic, throwing his black brows and hair into dramatic
contrast. His eyes caught the firelight and shimmered for a moment, paler in
color than she remembered, almost yellow.
Despite herself,
she shivered.
“Come,” he said,
reaching out his hand to her with a smile. “Let us sit and talk.”
Elandra did not
move. Her fear was unreasonable, for she could see no threat in his face or
manner. Yet she remained afraid.
“Please,” he said.
She heard fatigue
and pain in his voice and realized he was waiting for her to sit down before he
did the same. His knuckles were white where they gripped the top of the cane.
Compassion touched
her then, and she took one of the chairs, sitting erect with her long skirts
belled around her, her hands folded in her lap.
Tirhin dropped
heavily into his with a grunt of relief and stretched out his bad leg before
him.
This close, she
could see how much he had changed. Deep lines had been carved around his mouth.
A permanent crease between his brows marred his forehead. He looked older by
years, and his eyes seemed haunted. Tension radiated from him.
She looked at him,
and was glad he suffered. She hoped his guilt consumed him, for no punishment
could be more appropriate. Had he sat before her sleek, contented, and fat with
his ill-gained riches, she would have thrown her knife at his throat. But this
pain-wracked shell of a man, this prince who had lost his youth, vitality, and
laughing good looks was someone she could tolerate. Barely.
He met her eyes
and gave her a tentative smile, then lifted his forefinger at Agel, who hovered
discreetly in the background. “Some wine for the lady, healer. Oh, and bring
the box.”
In silence Agel
brought a tray containing a flagon of amber-colored wine, two goblets of
hammered gold, and a small wooden box with an ornate lid.
Elandra watched
scornfully as the healer filled the goblets. “And when did this skilled healer
become your servant?” she asked.
Agel did not
glance up as he finished pouring the wine, but his nostrils flared.
Tirhin chuckled.
“The slaves have all been sent to bed. Our conversation is private, not for
idle ears. Thank you, Agel. That will suffice.”
The healer bowed
and left the room. Elandra breathed easier after he was gone. “I thought Lord
Sien would be at your side.”
“Sien died when
Kostimon died,” Tirhin said. “Agel has saved my life.” He drank thirstily from
his goblet, then handed the second goblet to her.
Elandra lifted her
hand in refusal. “I am not thirsty.”
“At least let us
share a toast, Elandra.”
She stared at him
coldly and made no move to take the goblet, which he still extended to her. “We
have nothing to celebrate.”
“Not even a
mending of a broken friendship?”
Elandra did not
relent. “You are premature.”
His smile faded,
and a shadow crossed his eyes. He set down the goblet with enough force to
slosh its contents. “Will you not meet me halfway?”
“Why should I?”
He struggled a
moment with himself, as though to keep his patience and his temper. “This
hostility from you is most unbecoming. It does nothing to show the people that
we are united in—”
“We are not
united,” Elandra said sharply.
“Let me finish,”
he said. “I was going to say united in friendship. Why do you fear me? We are
family. I mean you no harm.”
“Do you not,” she
said softly beneath her breath.
He overheard and
frowned. “I am not your enemy, whatever you may think.”
“Then why am I
your prisoner?”
Tirhin leaned back
in his chair. “Leave if you wish. Go. I will not stop you.”
“My chamber door
was locked tonight.”
“For your
protection.”
She sniffed. “I
was brought to this room by an armed escort.”
“For your
protection. In Gault’s name, Elandra, you have seen the city. You must surely
realize the danger that surrounds us. These walls offer some protection, but
not enough. Twice the guards have killed things which crept inside somehow,
things you do not wish to meet.”
“You brought them
here.”
Anger flashed in
Tirhin’s face. He slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Kostimon
brought them! Do not lay that blame on me!”
Her gaze dropped a
moment; then she looked up again. “And what blame will you accept?”
His mouth
tightened. “I let the Madruns sack the city. I regret that now, but at least
they have finally been driven out. At the time it seemed my only chance of
seizing the throne from the old devil.”
“Couldn’t you have
waited?”
“For how long?” he
retorted.
“A few weeks. A
few days. Your father had little time left.”
Tirhin snorted and
drained the contents of his goblet. “Do you think he would not have found a way
to thwart death again? I tell you, he was planning something—”
“How could he—”
“Why not?” Tirhin
broke in. “He made his bargain before with the dark god to evade death.”
“Yes, but that was
over.”
“Was it? I’m not
so sure.” Tirhin poured himself more wine with an unsteady hand, spilling some
of it. “He and Sien were plotting some scheme with the darkness.”
“But—’“
“I tell you, he
would have succeeded!” Tirhin said sharply. “You knew him only a short time,
but even so, do you truly believe that he would not have tried again to keep
his life and his throne, if there were any way to do it? No matter what the
cost?”
Elandra sat in
silence a moment, but finally she replied with honesty. “Yes, I believe he
would have taken any chance offered to him.”
“Yes.” Tirhin
shifted in his chair and grimaced.
Elandra rose to
her feet. “You are unwell. The hour is very late. We can talk later—”
“We will talk
now!” he said forcefully, glaring up at her. “This is our only chance for
privacy. There is little time, and I will not be put off.”
Pain gripped his
face again, and he rubbed his leg fretfully.
Watching him,
Elandra frowned. “You are exhausted, and your wound pains you. Can this not
wait until morning when you are more rested?”
He bared his teeth
in a bitter version of a smile and shook his head. “There is never a moment
when the wound does not pain me,” he admitted. “I do not sleep at night. While
the rest of the world lies quiet, I have nothing to do but fill the hours with
activity.”
Elandra stared at
him in consternation. “You do not sleep at all?”
“No.”
“But you must take
rest.”
“Oh, yes, I rest.
But there is no sleep. Please, sit down.”
She sank back into
her chair, feeling more pity for him than she wanted to. “But how can you live
if you do not sleep?”
He shrugged and
ran the back of his hand across his forehead.
“Can the healer
not cure you?”
His lips curved
bitterly, and he would not meet her eyes. “Obviously not.”
“I do not
understand. For all his faults, Agel is a most skilled healer, trained in
Trau’s best school.”
He stared into the
bottom of his cup. “Some hurts are beyond all the skill and ability of this
world.”
Understanding came
to her. Chilled, she shrank back in her chair and stared at him with new eyes.
Memories of General Paz came to her, along with memories of her own poisoning.
“The darkness is
within you,” she whispered.
Still he would not
meet her eyes.
She swallowed
hard, not knowing what to say. She had escaped the trap, but could Tirhin? “Is
it the poison?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“If we appealed to
the Penestricans—”
“Those witches are
not coming within a league of me,” he said, and filled his goblet again.
“But if they could
help you—”
“They will not,”
he said.
“Tirhin, it can be
fought. It can be—”
“But I don’t want
to fight it,” he said. He turned his pale yellow eyes on her, and she felt as
though she had been physically shocked.
She opened her
mouth, but no words came out.
“It is time to be
frank, Elandra. I want no secrets between us,” he said, leaning forward. “The
throne will be mine, and once I have it, I shall not relinquish it. I have
taken the darkness in exchange for the same life span as my father.”
Horrified, Elandra
stared at him. “Tirhin, no!”
“Yes. The wound will
never heal. I can never sleep again, but I don’t care. All is worth it.”
“But your father
did not—”
“No,” he
interrupted quietly. “Kostimon did not make the same bargain I have. Kostimon
did not pay the same price. But you see, Kostimon had to pay when he died. I am
paying now, in exchange for something far sweeter.”
She frowned. “I
don’t understand.”
“You don’t have
to. But I am nothing to fear, I assure you. I shan’t turn into a monster when
you least expect it. I am as I shall always be. Young and manly. In my prime.”
Elandra blinked.
Was he mad? Did he not see how thin and haggard he actually was? Was he unaware
of how ill he looked? Did he still believe himself the strong, handsome young
man he had been only a few months past? He was lying to her; most certainly he
was lying to himself if he believed any of what he had just said.
“Now I have been
open and honest with you,” Tirhin said, putting his cup aside. “I have
explained my reasons and shared my plans for the future with you.”
“Future?” she said
in astonishment, and gestured at the window. “What future do you expect?
Darkness has swallowed Imperia. Soon it will engulf all the empire.”
He nodded. “Things
are changing, but we will rebuild the city. We—”
“Tirhin!” she said
sharply, forgetting caution. “Are you mad? Do you not realize that we are
ending? The demons will rule, not you.”
“We will rule,” he
said, leaning forward to grasp her hand.
She tried to pull
free, but he held her fast.
“Listen to me,” he
said intently, gazing into her eyes. “I have nothing to fear, and once you are
married to me you will have nothing to fear either. There are ways to survive,
even in perpetual night.”
“No,” she
whispered, trying again to pull free.
“You are a
beautiful woman,” he said. “Courageous, wellborn, intelligent. The people love
you. When my father chose you, he chose well. Together, we can mend what is
broken in the empire. You are already crowned. Our alliance will be—”
“No!”
She jerked her
hand from his and stood up, circling to stand behind her chair. She needed that
physical barrier between them.
“Elandra, listen—”
“I will not hear
you,” she said in agitation. Dear Gault, she had even felt sorry for him. She
had forgotten how charming the man could be, how persuasive.
“Elandra, it is
imperative that we marry.”
Her face grew hot.
She glared at him defiantly. “Imperative for you, perhaps, but not for me.”
“You cannot rule
the empire alone. The people will not accept it.”
“Then I shall not
rule,” she told him.
He laughed and
levered himself painfully to his feet. “That is a lie. I can see ambition in
your face, hear it in your voice. You were hoping to align yourself with Gialta
and the imperial army, but as you have seen, neither of those factors belong to
you. I made sure of that from the start.”
“Then you do not
need me.”
“Our borders are
weak. Our enemies think we can be taken while we are in this confusion. I don’t
have time to deal with internal problems and an unruly populace. The people
accept you. Don’t throw away your crown.”
He stared at her a
moment, then tilted his head to one side. “Am I so horrible, so repugnant, as a
price to pay for your throne? After all, you were married to Kostimon in a
political arrangement. This is no different.”
“It is very
different,” she snapped.
Color darkened his
cheeks, and his eyes narrowed. “In what way?” he asked.
The cold anger in
his voice was a warning, but her own temper was flaring. “I was married to the
emperor”
she said. “You are only a usurper.”