Chapter Fourteen

Albain lowered his hand. “What?” he said blankly. “Jeopardy? Betrayal? Are you sure?”

“Yes, my lord.” Hecati gestured mournfully at the robe lying on the floor. “The sacred bridal robe has been torn beyond repair. I’m sure your lordship knows the terrible omen this constitutes for Lady Bixia’s wedded happiness.”

“Superstition,” Bixia said; then, under her father’s steady glare, she hitched her nightgown up properly over both shoulders.

“I hope that was a joke, daughter,” he said with severity.

Bixia swallowed and dropped her eyes. “Yes, father.”

“Heresy, even in jest, is a bad habit. I doubt you’ll have the freedom at court to speak your mind as freely as you do here.”

Her head came up defiantly, but at the last moment she said nothing. Her gaze went to Elandra, and she shrugged.

Lord Albain scowled at the robe. “Isn’t this the piece that cost me nearly nine hundred ducats?”

“Yes, my lord,” Hecati said.

Elandra gasped, and even Bixia looked impressed.

Hecati’s eyes narrowed to slits. She watched Elandra closely, like a cat eyeing its prey.

Albain looked a bit stunned, but he rallied. “Bixia’s got other robes. One of them will have to do.”

“But, Father!” Bixia wailed. “The others aren’t blessed. I can’t marry the emperor like a rag girl. I have to have a robe from Mahira. You know how important it is.”

“No!” he said explosively. “Murdeth and Fury, girl. You’ll make a pauper of me.”

Tears welled up in Bixia’s green eyes. “I can’t go through with it. My bridal robe is ruined, and my marriage will be cursed forever.”

“Enough of that!” he said roughly, bill helplessness had entered his gaze. “Oh, hell’s breath. Don’t start that drizzling. We’ll see what can be done.”

“Oh, Father, thank you!” Bixia flung her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss his scarred cheek. “You’re so good to me. So kind and generous.”

He patted her shoulder and cleared his throat with gratification. “We’ll see. Now mind you, get dressed in a hurry.”

Beaming, Bixia vanished back into her bedchamber with a slam of the door. Her gong rang, summoning attendants. One of Elandra’s duties was to help her sister dress every morning. Right now, however, she scarcely dared breathe, and she did not move.

“What is to be done, my lord?” Hecati asked. “The wedding cannot proceed as planned—”

“It must!” he shouted, then grimaced and raised his hand in placation. “No delays,” he said in a more reasonable tone of voice. “Damn it all, I won’t insult the emperor all because of an accursed nightgown!”

“Your daughter must have the raiment that is her due.”

“Hell’s teeth, woman! I’ve spent a fortune already on her damned trousseau.”

“That is not the issue,” Hecati said coolly. “Brides of high lineage are traditionally sent to their marriage beds in Mahiran bridal robes. The blessing was to ensure a swift conception of an heir. If Lady Bixia fails in this duty, there will be—”

“Enough,” he said heavily and wiped perspiration from his brow. “No need to spell out what I understand perfectly. All must go on as planned. I’ll send word to Mahira about getting a replacement. Damnation! I could buy a new war mount for the cost. Or a trio of young elephants.”

The jinja darted over to Elandra and swirled around her in a green blur before joining Albain. The baron draped a fond hand over the creature’s narrow shoulder.

“Must this horrid thing remain in the room?” Hecati asked with visible uneasiness. She made a shooing motion, which it ignored. “All is proven safe. It does not need to linger here.”

“Who was whipped, master?” the jinja asked with a wicked grin that showed its pointed teeth.

Albain ignored its question, but spots of color appeared on Hecati’s cheeks.

Elandra watched them closely. Thus far they had ignored her. She eased one step away. Then another, hoping the jinja would be quiet about the whipping. She wanted no attention turned on her now. There would be time to explain the truth to her father later, when Hecati was gone.

But Hecati turned her head and looked straight at Elandra. “As for who did this ignominious—”

The jinja swirled around. “Lies in the room. Lies in the room.”

“Hush,” Albain admonished it.

Looking hurt, the jinja darted over to the window and crouched on the sill with a sulky face.

“Enough sly accusations,” Elandra said, stepping forward. She looked at her father. “Lady Hecati blames me for what happened to the robe.”

Albain’s single eye met her gaze, and he frowned. She had his jaw, his temper, and his auburn hair. Her height and slender figure she’d gotten from her mother. Her mind was her own, and she’d fought tooth and nail all her life to get it educated.

She knew he had other illegitimate children besides herself. There were several stablehands running about with the Albain hair or the Albain jaw.

But she was the only highborn bastard in his progeny, her lineage proud on both sides. Why her mother had consorted with Albain, breaking her own marriage vows while her husband was away at war, had never been told. Why her mother had not kept Elandra, but instead sent her to Albain when she was four years old, was also unexplained. As long as Bixia’s good-natured mother was alive, Elandra had been well treated and happy within the household. When Lady Ousia died trying to bear Albain’s son, her sister Hecati came to take charge of the children.

“There, she admits her guilt to you, my lord,” Hecati said now while Elandra faced her father’s glare. “She has cost you nine hundred ducats—no, double that if the robe is to be replaced suitably. And all because she envies her half- sister’s good fortune.”

Elandra glanced at the jinja, but it was still pouting on the windowsill, gazing outside. It was a creature of whim. Its only allegiance was to her father. She couldn’t depend on its help at all. Her heart sank.

Albain looked at her with disappointment. Her throat choked, but she refused to lower her proud chin even a fraction. All she’d ever wanted was his affection, but he was a busy man who spared scant time for family. She had been hoping that with Bixia and Hecati gone, she and her father might finally become companions.

It killed her for him to look at her this way now.

“I admit no wrongdoing,” she said, her voice low with the effort not to cry. “I deny their accusations.”

“Wicked girl!” Hecati said angrily. “Your defiance does you no good. You hale and envy your half-sister. Admit your jealousy. You are a horrid, lying troublemaker.”

“Lady Hecati,” Albain said sharply, “mind your tone.”

Hecati bowed al once. “Forgive me, my lord. But this wretch—”

“—is my daughter.”

Something unreadable crossed Hecati’s face. She swallowed. “Yes, my lord. But as a bastard—”

He scowled. “Elandra’s maternal side comes from one of the most venerable and ancient bloodlines in Gialta. My own lineage is equally faultless. The fact that she was born of a love union rather than a sacramented one does not give you leave to yell at her like a fishwife.”

A tiny smile quivered on Elandra’s lips. He filled her eyes, a hero. His fairness and justice was on her side today, and she gazed at him with love, pleased to have such a champion.

Hecati turned red. She curtsied. “Again, I beg my lord’s forgiveness.”

He grunted and turned back to his daughter. “Elandra, you will tell me the truth of this matter.”

For a moment it all rushed up inside Elandra, the urge to tell him everything about the way she was treated, the trick Bixia had pulled with the bridal robe, the scuffle with Hecati that had torn it. But instinct warned her to take care. She felt danger around her, like a hot wind blowing across the plains. The jinja apparently did not sense it; perhaps it was only her imagination. But she had learned the hard way not to underestimate Hecati’s menace. And if she lost her temper or grew shrill in what she said, her father would not listen to her. Experience had taught her that as well.

She could not accuse Bixia, his golden child. His sense of fairness would stretch only so far.

Swallowing hard, Elandra said, “Last night before she retired, Lady Bixia asked me to shorten one of her dressing robes because it was far too long for her.”

“A lie!” Hecati broke in. “You took the robe from the box and deliberately ruined it—”

“No!” Elandra insisted, her eyes flashing. “I knew nothing about its special significance. I never saw any box.”

She turned her gaze to her father, who was frowning. “The robe dragged on the floor, and Bixia was very upset.”

“Everything was made to exact measurements,” Hecati said. “I do not understand why you persist in this false tale when anyone knows it’s untrue.”

Elandra picked up the robe off the door and held it up. “Look,” she said. “I worked all night to replace the hem. See where I didn’t finish? See how long it is?”

She held it against her. “As it was, it would have fit me because I am much taller than Bixia. But it looked terrible on her. I really tried to help her, Father.” She upended the garment and showed him the stitches she’d sewn. “See the embroidery? I tried very hard to replicate it. And all would have been well had I had another hour to finish it.”

Her father took the white brocade in his broad, battle- scarred hands. “How came it to be ripped?”

Elandra’s gaze shifted to Hecati, who opened her mouth, then pinched it together very tightly. Hecati’s eyes were glittering with warning, but as frightened as she was, Elandra wasn’t going to lie. In a faint voice, she answered her father’s question: “I was trying to show Lady Hecati what I had done when she lost her temper and grabbed it from my hand.”

Hecati’s face drained of color. “You—you—”

Albain scowled, and Hecati choked on the rest of her sentence. “This work is very fine, daughter,” he said. “I cannot tell where your stitches begin and the others leave off.”

Elandra smiled at the praise. “Thank you, Father. I tried my best. I’m sorry I could not finish it. And now it’s torn. If I’d known it had been blessed, I wouldn’t have touched it. You must believe that.”

He met her eyes, but his own gaze still held doubt. “How could you be ignorant of such an important part of your sister’s trousseau? That is the weakness of your story, which makes me doubt the whole.”

“But I haven’t seen the trousseau, Father,” Elandra said.

His brows drew together, and now he did look disbelieving. “What is this? Have you no interest in Bixia’s good fortune? I did not raise you to be petty and jealous, Elandra.”

Anger sparked in her. You did not raise me at all, she thought with resentment. You gave me instead to this creature.

“My lord,” Hecati said nervously, keeping an eye on the jinja. “We have not encouraged Elandra to loiter about during the fittings and viewings. The child would have only been bored, and I didn’t want her to feel envious or left out by seeing the sumptuous gowns which are so far above her own station.”

Albain looked blank. “I’m sure Elandra has no cause to feel envy. Her own gowns are pretty enough. I’ve made sure of that. Except for this ugly rag she’s wearing this morning.”

Elandra stared at him and felt fresh emotions welling up inside her. How to explain that his gilts were locked away in the cupboard, to be worn only on rare important occasions when she and Bixia dined with him?

Hecati was sputtering, but her voice died away when Albain shot her a sharp glance.

“Or does my daughter have pretty gowns to wear? It seems that whenever I glimpse her running through the grounds or the palace, she is always dressed in dull garb like this. Dressed like a servant.”

“Too many pretty things make a young girl vain,” Hecati said. “Besides, Bixia must come first.”

“Of course Bixia comes first,” Albain said impatiently. “That does not mean Elandra is to be neglected. I have spoken to you about this before, Hecati. I thought the matter settled.”

“Of course, my lord,” Hecati said in a voice as smooth and brittle as glass.

“Elandra, have you anything to complain about?” Albain asked.

She drew in a sharp breath, ready to Tell him everything, but Hecati cleared her throat in soft warning.

Involuntarily Elandra tensed. Since childhood she had been trained not to tell her father anything. She could not count how many whippings it had taken to make the habit of silence strong within her. Now she stood tongue-tied and afraid, despising herself for her own cowardice, yet unable to take the chance he offered her.

Albain swung away impatiently. “I do not like to hear of these disturbances,” he said grouchily, tapping his gauntlets on his palm, his gaze already darting about the room. “It is unbecoming for ladies.”

Elandra held back what she might have said. He hated arbitration, and household arguments usually made him furious. He had little patience with hearing both sides of a matter and often punished everyone involved rather than deal with the issue. She reminded herself that in a short while Hecati and Bixia would be gone. Her troubles would be over.

“No complaints, Father,” she said quietly. “I know my place.”

His brows lifted, but Hecati nodded. “Exactly,” she said with approval. “The girl knows her place, which is to serve her sister.”

Albain made no contradiction, and Hecati smiled with renewed boldness.

“Perhaps,” she said with false generosity, “I have overreacted. While Elandra made a dreadful mistake in what she did, I see now that she was only trying to help her sister last night. Of course the poor misguided child should have asked me first before undertaking such a project. Much of the disaster could then have been averted. As it is, I’m afraid Elandra’s mistake will prove to be a very expensive one for your lordship to remedy.”

His frown deepened, and Elandra thought about the nine hundred ducats with a fresh pang of worry.

“I am sorry for the trouble I have caused, Father,” she said softly. “How can I make amends for something so costly?”

As she spoke, she saw a tiny smile of satisfaction flit across Hecati’s mouth. Elandra knew Hecati was pleased to be able to turn the blame onto her. If Albain came to think her a fool, or worse, someone who was too much trouble to keep around, what then would become of her? Her position in his household was tenuous. She had no rights of her own, and suddenly she had never been more aware of that. Her breath stilled in her lungs.

Albain cleared his throat. “It seems to me that the least part of the blame is yours, daughter.”

Elandra looked up in surprise.

Hecati frowned.

He continued: “Bixia knew this garment was sacred and not to be touched. What was she doing prancing about in it? Even to show it off to you, Elandra, she had no business doing that.”

Hecati tried to speak up, but he scowled at her.

“If it did not fit, and I do not see how it could, why didn’t she inform you at once? Why demand that Elandra sit up all night in an effort to mend it? An insurmountable task, for all this child’s impressive skill with a needle.” His scowl deepened. “Small wonder she stands here looking dead tired, with dark circles under her eyes. This is not service. It’s abuse. And why does Elandra submit to it? Because she’s been trained to think that’s her place? Who did that to her?”

His scowl aimed itself at Hecati, who raised both hands.

“Now, my lord. You must not misunderstand the situation. You  requested that I raise Elandra in domestic training, and—”

“Aye, teach her how to supervise servants and manage a household,” he said angrily. “Teach her grace and poise and accomplishments, not to run about in a patched gown a scullion would be ashamed to wear, with dirt on her cheek and her hair uncombed, and her spirit fair scared out of her.”

“She’s a headstrong, temperamental girl,” Hecati replied with equal heat. “Hard to train and rebellious. Strong measures have been called for to teach her her place. If I’ve made her take a servant’s role to Lady Bixia from time to time, it’s only to make her understand that she is not Lady Bixia’s equal.”

“Isn’t she?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

“Of course not. The factors of her birth—”

“Elandra’s mother was better born than Bixia’s!” he roared.

Hecati sniffed. “But not under lawful union with yourself, my lord.”

“At our rank, what does that matter?” he said. “You have common ideas, woman. Aye, and common morals as well.”

Reddening, Hecati drew herself up. “I can see my years of effort are unappreciated. Well, you’ll soon learn for yourself what your baseborn daughter’s really like when you’re thrown into her company, my lord. Perhaps you will regret not heeding my warnings about her.”

“Elandra is not to blame for what transpired between her mother and me,” he said.

“Her very presence is an affront to Bixia and the memory of my dear sister Ousia!” Hecati cried.

“And so you punish Elandra because you cannot punish me?” he retorted, his voice very quiet and very, very angry now.

The room fell silent. Hecati looked tense and alarmed, as though she realized she had gone too far.

Albain turned to Elandra and stared at her hard.

It was a glare such as he gave his men during inspection. She felt reduced to a speck, insignificant and worthless. She had fallen short of his expectations somehow, and yet she did not see how she could have done better ... unless it was to have avoided the traps Bixia set for her.

Elandra’s mouth went dry. She was so tired. Her eyes felt like grit. Her wits were muddled. All she wanted was for him to dismiss her so that she could escape this room and this woman. But she dared not give way to tears or exhaustion. Albain despised weakness in anyone. The only way to keep his good favor was to be strong. She could not whimper. She could not sway. With all her willpower she forced herself to meet his gaze steadily, her chin high and her aching shoulders straight. It was a struggle to keep her mouth from trembling.

Albain snapped his fingers. “Jinja, here.”

The creature darted to his side immediately.

Albain pointed at Elandra. “It is ended,” he said angrily. “It has gone on long enough. Release her.”

Before Elandra could even guess at what he meant, the Jinja jumped at her. Its hands brushed across her face, and it was as though ice touched her skin.

A wave of dizziness passed through her. She swayed, blinking against a sudden blur in her vision. For a moment she felt strangely cold and empty. Her mind was blank. She opened her mouth, but could not speak.

Albain’s arm steadied her. “Gently, my girl,” he said with kindness. “It will pass quickly.”

Even as he spoke, the dizziness faded. She blinked and felt stronger, more confident, somehow free. She could not explain it, and gazed at him in puzzlement.

Oddly enough, it was he who avoided her eyes now.

His gaze returned to Hecati, who still looked alarmed.

“You took much advantage of what has been commanded of us, sister-in-name. How will you treat her now?”

Hecati’s nostrils flared a moment; then she seemed to rally. “She has always been difficult. What will she do now that you’ve unleashed her to act as she pleases? Let her tear down the palace?”

Elandra’s puzzlement grew. She looked at first one and then the other. “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” her father said uneasily. “Well, perhaps it is better some things are left unsaid.” For a moment he studied her with an odd expression on his face. “You are a good girl, Elandra. A good daughter. You think I don’t know what goes on in this household, that I’ve been blind to the way you’ve been treated, but that’s not so. I let it happen.”

Elandra’s eyes widened. She stared at him with growing shock.

“Aye, I did. And hard it was, too. I stepped in sometimes, when Hecati was getting too harsh with you.”

Her eyes filled with angry tears. He knew nothing about it, for all his boasting. He knew not a tenth of what she’d undergone. For an instant she felt larger than he, older than he, wiser than he. She saw that her hope of becoming his companion was doomed. It was too late for them. Too much had happened. Too little had happened.

Her silence seemed to disturb him.

“I had ... advice as to how to raise you,” he said, wriggling his blocky shoulders uneasily. “None of that matters now. I see you can stand up for yourself when you have to. But you’re not vindictive or petty. You’ve got a generous heart, my girl. And I’m proud of you.”

A few minutes ago his unexpected praise would have made her smile. She would have soaked it up like sunshine after long days of rain. Now she stared at him, unmoved. She felt as though she were being turned to stone, losing all feeling an inch at a time.

He took her hands in his and turned them over. His eyes flickered when he saw how work-roughened they were. Then his gaze turned misty and he pulled her into his arms for a hard, fierce hug that nearly crushed her.

“I’ll miss you most of all,” he whispered.

When he let her go, she stared at him in bewilderment. “But I’m staying here with you,” she said. “I thought—” She broke off abruptly, fear piercing her anew.

He shook his head. “No, my child,” he said gently. “I could not tell you before. You’re going with Bixia.”

Elandra’s mouth fell open. Anger rushed over her, driving back the fear and the disappointment. So this was her future? To spend her life at the beck and call of Bixia? To mouse about with her head down and her back beaten, pledged in eternity to Bixia’s service? She choked on what filled her throat.

Hecati stepped forward. “My lord, it’s too generous of you, but really you do not need to send Elandra along as a companion to Lady Bixia. The time has come to separate the girls. Let each of them follow the paths of their far different lives.”

Albain ignored her. His eyes remained on Elandra, who stood there frozen with fury and shock. “Go and put on one of your pretty gowns. Put up your hair as befits your rank. Have one of the maids pack your things. There isn’t much time.”

But she could not move. Her heart was thudding so hard she could scarcely hear him. Sent away. Her mother had sent her away, years ago. All her life she’d feared the day when her father would do the same thing. And now it was upon her. Kicked out. Unwanted.

Oh, he could call it a great honor if he wished. She knew some people would sell their souls for the chance to live at the imperial court. But she saw only the hurt.

Worse than that, it meant no escape from Hecati.

Elandra could not bear it. “Please let me stay,” she whispered pleadingly. “I’ll do anything, Father. I’ll work day and night, run the household or scrub floors, in whatever capacity I can serve. Willingly I will do this. But let me stay.”

He flinched. “Is this what you have been taught? To beg like this? Where is your pride, girl?”

Her lips trembled. If she had to kneel one more time and thank the hag for a whipping, she would die. She looked at her father, who refused to see what she could not tell him. “I have no pride in this matter,” she said at last. “Let me stay.”

“My lord, consider,” Hecati spoke up. “This is Lady Bixia’s ascension into greatness. After a lifetime of training and preparation for her ultimate station in life, she must look ahead to new friends and new companions—those more worthy of an empress.”

Albain scratched his chin. “These protests are unworthy of you both. There is something you do not know, Hecati. Something Elandra does not know.”

Elandra felt tears burn her eyes and frowned to hold them back. “I won’t go,” she said.

“Elandra,” he said to her, “you have your own destiny.”

She glared at him, too defiant at first to understand what he had said.

“Nonsense,” Hecati said with a sniff. “How can your lordship speak of trivial matters when Lady Bixia’s good fortune outshines everyone?”

“Bixia has no destiny, save what has been foretold to me about my own fate,” Albain said flatly.

Hecati twisted her fingers. “But the girl is to marry the emperor. We have known that since her birth. It was—”

“My destiny says that my daughter shall marry the emperor. That is true.”

Hecati nodded emphatically, looking relieved.

“I have worked long and hard to maintain the best relations with the imperial court so this could come about,” Albain said. “But that has nothing to do with Elandra.”

“And Elandra has nothing to do with Lady Bixia’s future,” Hecati said with thin impatience. “Nothing.”

She glared at Elandra, who glared back.

“Father, thank you,” Elandra said, her tone not grateful at all. “You mean to be kind, but I will not go with Bixia. Empress or not, I don’t want to serve her anymore.”

“Nevertheless, I am sending you to the Penestricans,” he said and shot a warning look at Hecati. “Not as Bixia’s servant, mind you. But as my daughter, to be trained in the House of Women, and to be married advantageously through their selection.”

Again Elandra felt as though all the breath had been knocked from her. Her anger vanished, and complete astonishment took its place. Married? She didn’t want to be married. She hadn’t thought about it. In fact, she was sick of the whole idea after watching Bixia moon and plan and gloat for months.

“You’re seventeen,” Albain continued. “Old enough to make a good match.”

Hecati was blinking as though shocked. “Sent to the Penestricans?” she repeated hollowly. “But that’s for wellborn—”

“You’re a fool,” he broke in sharply.

Hecati flushed to the edge of her wimple. Anger filled her eyes, and the jinja positioned itself between her and Lord Albain with its sharp teeth bared.

All expression smoothed from her face, which remained white and pinched. “Forgive me,” she said, although she sounded as though her lips were too stiff to utter the apology. “It’s just that I am surprised at so generous a gesture on behalf of your natural daughter.”

The scorn in that one word was like a slash from the willow switch. Elandra flinched, then felt angry for letting either of them see she could still be affected by taunts. She had to outgrow such foolishness, she told herself. She had to learn to be impervious to the insults. Her mind turned to the possibilities of the future her father offered. She had never even allowed herself to dream of any kind of life such as other young women had. But if she did go and if she was married well...

“Unlike Bixia, Elandra has her own destiny,” Albain said proudly. “It was read by the soothsayer in her mother’s household at her birth.”

Elandra and Hecati exchanged an involuntary glance. Elandra took a step forward. “I did not know this,” she said, intrigued despite a wary sense that she might not like it. “Why have I never been told?”

He smiled at her. “Because of your mother’s wisdom. She asked me not to tell you until you were grown. I was also requested, by another party, to let you be raised more roughly than Bixia, to test you for a purpose I do not know.”

“But—”

“I did not like to keep such a secret at first, but as the two of you have grown up together, I have seen Bixia spoiled and fawned over by everyone until she’s vain and puffed up with conceit. I see you, resilient and wary, expecting no favors.”

“You cannot say that Elandra is better than Lady Bixia,” Hecati said with quick jealousy. “She is too tall, too thin, all awkward elbows. That hair is a fright. It will never stay combed.”

Albain smiled at Elandra. “your hair has the same auburn tint as mine. And today you make me think of the last time I saw Iaris.”

“My mother,” Elandra whispered. Her mother’s name was never spoken. How she thirsted to hear it, how she longed for any detail of what her mother was like.

“Iaris was quite a beauty,” he said, his eyes growing soft and distant with memory. “Not in the common way, but very fierce and reserved. When she sent me away, she looked much as you look today, all haughty and tense, with tears in her eyes she would not let fall. By the gods, it was not easy to win her heart at first. Nor would she be tamed. Nor could I keep her.”

Elandra bit her lip, and her yearning was an ache that filled her entire being. “I long to hear more about her. All my life I’ve hoped that someday you would tell me.”

“I know.” Gently he touched her cheek. “This is not the time. You must go today with your sister, for training and preparation for marriage.”

“But—”

He shook his head to still her protest. “We are not always given our choice in these matters, Elandra. Had I been given leave, I would have warned you of your future long ago. I would have given you a trousseau too. For you are as precious to me as Bixia.”

“But who commands you, Father? Who has told you to raise me thus? Who has made you keep silent?” Elandra frowned at him. “My mother?”

He shook his head. “Give up this guessing game. I am not at liberty to tell you. I have defied them enough by taking off the spell of restraint.”

“But—”

“Hush. You must learn to accept what destiny writes for you.”

“And what is this destiny that has been foretold for her?” Hecati asked in a spiteful voice.

His gaze never wavered from Elandra’s. “She is to marry a man whose name shall be known throughout the ages. Whether he is a warlord or a philosopher depends on the match the Penestricans will arrange according to their wisdom.”

For a moment there was only silence in the room.

Elandra forgot to breathe as her mind turned over his words. In spite of herself she was pleased and Haltered. It was the destiny of someone intended for greatness. Her life was not going to he dull or ordinary after all.

“Well?” Albain asked, breaking the silence.

Elandra drew in a breath, and her involuntary half smile flickered into a frown. “Must my life hinge only on what kind of marriage I make?”

He looked startled by her reply.

“There, you see?” Hecati said scornfully. “All rebellion and hopeless ideas. What is to be done with a creature like her?”

Albain ignored Hecati and gave Elandra his complete attention. “What else would you have for yourself?”

She spun away and crossed the room to the window overlooking the lush jungles beyond the walls. Hugging herself, she gazed at the sky. A pair of wild parrots flew overhead, their crimson feathers bright. “I don’t know exactly ... only I think I would like to be a scholar or a teacher. I would like to explore the world and see its wonders. I would like to put my own mark on history, not just content myself with running a household and bearing a man’s children.”

Albain laughed. “What a silly child you are.”

Elandra turned around sharply. “Am I?” she asked, hurt by his laughter. “Am I really foolish? Are my dreams wrong?”

He beckoned to her, still chuckling, and she crossed the room to him. He gave her shoulder a little pat, then pushed her away.

“You are ready indeed to go forth and forge a path for yourself,” he said. “The Penestricans can do much with you, I think. I am pleased.”

“Must I marry?” she asked again. “Could I join the order of Penestricans and find a different destiny for myself there?”

The amusement slowly faded in his face. He shook his head. “Some think a destiny is a curse. Others, like Bixia, consider it a blessing. Either way, you must walk the path it sets for you. Now, go and make yourself ready. There is little time.”

“I want to stay.”

“I know.” His voice was firm. “But you cannot. The Penestricans tell me it is time. Today I must lose both my girls.”

She heard the unhappiness in his voice. Her heart went out to him, and she reached for his hand. But with a scowl, he abruptly turned his back on her and left the room. She listened to the rapid jingling of his spurs and knew with a sinking heart that she would probably never see him again.

The jinja lingered a moment. Its dark, mischievous eyes stared up at Elandra in a strangely compelling manner. “Greatness,” it whispered. Then it grinned and vanished.

Elandra would have rushed out of the room then, but Hecati blocked her path.

She handed Elandra a small key off her ring. “This will unlock the cupboard that contains your things. See that you hurry. Wash your face and do something about that hair. You will behave yourself. You will conduct yourself properly. You will do nothing to bring shame to Lady Bixia, is that clear?”

Elandra felt numb. There had been too many shocks, too many emotions. She wanted only to flee, to be alone until she could understand some part of what had happened.

She did not take the key, but Hecati forced it into her hand.

“Destiny indeed.” Hecati sniffed. “You think you have won your father, but you haven’t. He’ll forget about you within ten minutes of our departure.”

“I know,” Elandra said softly.

“You got out of the punishment you deserve, but let me tell you this. Make no attempt to put on airs around Lady Bixia or me, my girl. We aren’t interested in your destiny. It is nothing in comparison to her ladyship’s. Nothing! For all we know, you’ll marry a scoundrel who’ll end up hanged from an imperial road arch.”

Flandra turned slowly to look at the spiteful old woman. For the first time in her life she felt no fear. She wasn’t sure if it was shock that made her reckless, or if the jinja had somehow changed her.

“Better to wed a bandit than a darkness-riddled old man who’s afraid to die,” she retorted in a quiet voice.

Hecati blanched; then fury filled her eyes. “You— you—”

The switch appeared, and Elandra lifted her hand quickly to block the blow. But it never landed.

The switch transformed itself into a thin black snake that writhed back toward Hecati. Shrieking, she flung it away.

The serpent struck the wall and vanished. The air smelled scorched and tainted.

Wrinkling her nose, Elandra stared at Hecati in amazement. The woman backed away from her with an expression of mingled fury and dread.

“The jinja has given me protection,” Elandra said in amazement. Relief spread through her. For the first time in years she felt free and safe. “You’ll never beat me again.”

“Is that what you think?” Hecati retorted. She rubbed her hands together violently as though to brush away some taint. “Take care, bastard-girl. Take great care. I have plenty of tricks left.”

Elandra backed up. “Leave me be!” she said vehemently. “I want nothing but to be left alone.”

“Fool,” Hecati said, sneering. “Do you think I believe that? You were born under the sign of mischief. Even now, you seek to diminish Lady Bixia’s moment of glory.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Do not try to stand in Lady Bixia’s way.”

“I have no interest in Bixia at all,” Elandra said with a frown. “I’ve never wanted to interfere with her good fortune. I don’t now.”

“Stay away from us,” Hecati said. “I warn you, I have other ways to protect my niece.”

“I mean her no harm.”

Hecati sniffed. “Oh, what lies you love to tell. You want revenge, my girl. That’s plain enough. But you’ll never get it.”

Elandra stared at her, tired of her paranoia. “You heard Father. My destiny isn’t even close to Bixia’s.”

“You were wise to keep silent before Albain. Mind that you continue to watch your tongue. I want no trouble from you. None at all.” Hecati pointed her finger at Elandra. “Keep yourself apart from her. If she’s in a room, depart from it. If she speaks, fall silent. If she is mentioned by others, show only respect. You will bring no notice to yourself, not during the journey and not among the Penestricans. I don’t even want you to bring her a cup of water. Is that clear?”

Elandra drew in a deep breath, then another.

“I asked you a question, Elandra.”

“Yes,” Elandra replied, her voice flat and quick. “Everything is very clear.”

“Then go! See that you are dressed, packed, and downstairs waiting by the time Lady Bixia is ready to depart.”

Elandra started to speak, but Hecati raised her hand. Her eyes raked Elandra with contempt.

“Get out,” she said.

And she shoved Elandra into the corridor with a slam of the door.