Reign of Shadows (26 page)

“Exactly.
Nothing. You are a lazy wretch.” Hecati raised the willow switch threateningly.
“Now tell me the truth!”

“I’ve
done no wrong,” Elandra insisted. How she wished this horrible woman would just
go, but Hecati stood before her like a nightmare that never ended.

Hecati
tapped her shoulder lightly with the switch, and Elandra flinched reflexively.
Hecati permitted herself a tiny smile of satisfaction that made Elandra hate
her even more.

“I
am still waiting for the truth, girl. Or do you want it beaten out of you?”

Elandra
sighed. “I was just mending some of Bixia’s—”

“That’s
Lady Bixia.”

Elandra
lowered her gaze to hide her resentment. “Some of Lady Bixia’s old gowns that
she wants to give to the servants as her departure gift.”

“Lie!
That work has already been done.”

“Most
of it,” Elandra said hastily. “But there were a few items she found and—”

Hecati
lifted her hand, and Elandra broke off her sentence. The woman considered the
story, her hostile eyes staring implacably at Elandra.

She
had always been a foe. From the first day Hecati arrived years ago to take
charge of Bixia’s upbringing, battle lines had been drawn between her and
Elandra. She had made her favoritism plain, taking obvious pride in the fact
that her sister had given birth to Bixia. At first she had tried to get rid of
Elandra, shutting her away, refusing to let her play with Bixia. Lord Albain
had put a stop to that. Then Hecati had tried to have Elandra sent away. Albain
had refused that also. He wanted his daughters raised together. Beyond that, he
let Hecati do as she pleased, and it pleased her to turn Elandra into Bixia’s
personal slave.

But
you are leaving today,
Elandra thought,
clinging to her one hope.
You are leaving forever and taking
Bixia with you.

“Truth
and lies,” Hecati murmured, her gaze rolling upward. “Truth and lies. You have
been sewing all night—”

“Yes,”
Elandra said quickly and held her breath. She tried to think of something that
would distract Hecati. If Hecati even suspected part of what she’d done, Elandra
knew she would—

Hecati
struck her with the switch. “Wrong has been done! What do you conceal from me?
Answer me!”

As
she spoke, she hit Elandra again.

The
switch stung like fire. Elandra backed away, although trying to dodge
punishment only made Hecati whip harder. “I’m concealing nothing!” she cried.

More
blows rained down on her. Each one stung viciously.

“Speak
the truth or say nothing at all!” Hecati commanded. “How dare you practice your
mischief on this of all days?”

Cornered
against the wall, Elandra endured the whipping. The switch was an awful weapon,
for although it hurt terribly it raised only temporary welts and never made any
permanent damage. There was never any proof to carry to her father.

With
each slash, Elandra bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying out. Her
cheeks burned with rage and humiliation. Defiantly, however, she refused to let
any tears spill from her brimming eyes. She wished the gods would strike Hecati
dead of apoplexy. She wished she dared wrest the switch from Hecati’s hands so
she could hit her back. A corner of her mind knew this beating was Hecati’s
last chance of punishing her simply for her existence, but that did not lessen
the humiliation of it.

Finally
the whipping stopped. Hecati stepped back, letting the tip of her switch rest
on the floor. She was breathing hard, and her eyes glowed as though she had
enjoyed what she inflicted. “Well?” she demanded.

It
was the old ritual, carried out again and again through the years.

Elandra’s
ears were roaring. She held her head very high as she forced herself to
straighten away from the wall and turn around. Her eyes swam with tears, but
she blinked fiercely in an effort to hold them back. Sunshine from the window
behind her blazed in across her shoulders, and its heat made the welts hurt
more. Hating the old woman,

Elandra
bowed her head and knelt at Hecati’s feet in a pool of sunlight. She took the
hem of Hecati’s starched linen gown with its sheer overlay of silk gauze and
kissed it while resentment pounded through her with such force she felt dizzy.

If
only I knew the forbidden ways,
she thought to
herself.
I would risk perdition gladly to pay this creature
back for her cruelty.

Hecati
put her slippered foot on top of Elandra’s head, forcing her face to the
carpet. “I am the aunt of the future empress of the world. What are you?”

Elandra
nearly choked, but she forced herself to utter the answer.
This is the last time,
she promised herself. “I am
nothing,” she replied as she had been taught so long ago.

“You
have been punished.”

“As
I—I deserve,” Elandra said.

For
that little break in her voice, Hecati’s foot pushed even harder. With her face
mashed against the carpet, Elandra breathed in its dust and fibers and knew the
choking helplessness of being entirely at another’s mercy.

“Should
I punish you again?”

Elandra
gritted her teeth on the expected answer.
No!
her heart cried within her.
Her hands curled into fists on the rug. “Yes,” she finally whispered, although
she shook against the temptation to grab the switch and give Hecati a taste of
it. “I—I should be punished again.”

Hecati
removed her foot from Elandra’s head. “I think perhaps you should. There is
anger in your voice today. Yes, and defiance too. You have not answered my
questions either.”

Trying
not to sob, Elandra pressed her face against the rug and dared not make a
sound.

Finally,
Hecati stepped back. “There is not time to deal with you suitably. I read your
heart, girl. I know you are eager to see Lady Bixia and me go.”

Crouched
there, Elandra still seethed, but she tried to
control herself. “Lady Bixia
must go to her destiny,” Elandra managed to say. “It is time for her life to
change.”

Hecati
sniffed. “Yes, how eagerly you say it. You think that when we are gone you will
be made into a lady, that you will run this palace, that you will even sit at
your father’s right hand during banquets. Oh, yes, I know what is in your
devious heart. But you will have none of those honors. Bastards deserve to
remain hidden away. Without us here, you’ll be relegated to the lowest end of
the servants’ hall. You can spend your years scrubbing pots and killing beetles
in the kitchen, for all I care.”

Elandra
lifted her face to Hecati. “He is not as cruel as you.”

Hecati
blinked at this defiance; then her eyes narrowed. “That tongue of yours should
have been cut out at birth. Your father forgets your existence half the time.
See if he remembers you at all when we are gone.”

Elandra
drew in a sharp breath, but before she could reply, Hecati gripped her by the
arm and pulled her upright.

“Stand
over there, out of the way, and wait until you are summoned to assist dressing
Lady Bixia.”

Shoving
Elandra aside, Hecati opened the double doors leading into Bixia’s bedchamber
and went in.

A
frown knotted Elandra’s brow, and she let out her breath in a gusty sigh of
relief. The whipping still hurt, but it was the humiliation that cut deepest.
She leaned against the wall. Her eyes were stinging, and the tears spilled out
before she could stop them. She brought up both hands and pressed them against
her trembling lips, trying to pull herself back under control.

Before
she succeeded, however, Hecati came storming out of Bixia’s room with an
elaborately carved box of walnut in her hands. Her face was livid.

“Here
is the box!” she cried. “The special box for the bridal robe. Empty!” She
dropped it onto a chair and glared at Elandra. “I knew you were up to some
wickedness! What have you done with the bridal robe?”

“Nothing!”
Elandra said. She slapped her tears from her cheeks and told herself she should
have fled the room the minute Hecati was out of sight.

“You’re
lying,” Hecati said. “Here is the box, its seal broken and its contents stolen.
You’re a thief as well as a liar. What have you done with it?”

Elandra
tried desperately to think of an answer that would spare her another beating,
but she was too tired to think. “I know nothing about that box. I did not open
it.”

Hecati
advanced on her, and Elandra had to force herself not to shrink away. It was not
her fault, she reminded herself. She must stick to the truth, no matter what.

“The
bridal robe has been sewn under a special blessing,” Hecati said furiously. “I
packed it away in this special box for safekeeping with my own hands.” Hecati’s
voice faded away and she glared at Elandra, her face turning redder with every
passing second. She gripped Elandra by the arm, her fingers digging in like
claws.

“You
got it out, didn’t you?” she accused. “You wanted to see it, knowing no hands
must touch it until the wedding day. You wanted to ruin Lady Bixia’s happiness
in any way you could. You jealous little bitch!”

She
slapped Elandra a hard, numbing blow, and would have hit her again, but Elandra
wrenched free. Hecati lifted the switch to strike her. Elandra caught it and
pulled it away from her.

The
switch vanished in her grip as though it had never existed. Elandra gasped, and
backed away in fear. “What magic is this?” she whispered, then ran for the
door.

“Magan!
Trina!” she called. “Send for a
jinja—”

An
invisible hand gripped her throat. Elandra stopped in her tracks and put her
hands to her throat, where the  pressure was choking her. It tightened, closing
off her air until she writhed in desperation.

Then
the pressure ceased, and she was free.

Gasping
and coughing, Elandra dropped to her knees and gulped in lungfuls of air. Her
throat burned with pain.

Fear
grew inside her, a cold, numbing fear that made her legs feel as weak as water.
Her heart was pounding as though she had run up the thousand steps of the palace.
She shuddered and closed her eyes. But she could sense the magic in the room.
Her hair tugged at her scalp as though it stood on end from static electricity.
She could smell something very faint but unpleasantly scorched. She swallowed
hard and refused to look at Hecati.

The
old woman strode over to her with a swish of her long skirts. “You force my
hand,” she said in a low, furious voice. “Damn you!”

Elandra
shook her head and lowered herself like a toad. “Please,” she whispered.
“Please, don’t—”

“You
have gone too far,” Hecati told her. There was something horrible in her voice,
a menace beyond mere anger. Elandra bit back a moan of fear and shivered. “Too
far! I give you one last warning to tell me the truth now regarding the robe,
or I’ll carve open the back of your worthless skull with my fingertip.”

She
ran her fingernail over Elandra’s head, and Elandra flinched. It was all she
could do not to leap up in terror.

Instead,
she crouched at Hecati’s feet, hating and fearing her as never before. Her mind
was blank. She was sweating in the rising heat. She felt like she would be
sick, and yet she had to find an answer.

“Please,”
she whispered.

“Speak!”

The
command made her jump in her skin. Her heart whammed harder. Elandra struggled
to find her voice.

“Bixia
took out the robe because she wanted to try it on.

She—”

Hecati
cried out in rage. “You’ll regret this, you she demon. Everything you’ve said
is a slandering, scurrilous lie.”

Elandra
raised herself in desperation, hurling the naked truth now like a weapon. “Ask
Bixia! How else would I be allowed to touch anything to do with the wedding?
Ask her!”

“I
will not disturb her precious sleep with such a trifle. Why should she defend
you?”