“It’s not only bombs and blasters I fear,” Ellina whispered.
“Then, what?” His frown deepened as he took another step into her sleeping chamber, which was supposed to be forbidden. Ellina was royalty and a virgin—only males she had expressly invited in ought to be allowed in her most private quarters. Still, she made no move to send the tall Kindred out.
“I…I think my old guard, Guffin, was poisoned,” she confessed at last, her stomach clenching as she finally spit out the words.
“What?” Commander Ty’rial shook his head. “This is the first I’ve heard of this—why was I not told before?”
“I—” Ellina began but just then a new head appeared at the doorway of her sleeping chamber.
“Royal Mistress,” a nasal, self-important voice said. “My master, the Lord Kikbax, High Priest of the most holy Thufar, is ready for you to drink the Cup of Wisdom. He sent me to collect you at once.”
Ellina squeezed her hands into fists at her sides. The servants of the High Priest tended to treat her as the High Priest did himself—like a willful child who had to be corralled and told what to do. They would never have dared to speak so to her grandmother because she was older than Lord Kikbax. But since Ellina had been raised in the palace under the High Priest’s nose, he treated her as an inferior rather than his queen and goddess, which was how their relationship was supposed to work.
Commander Ty’rial seemed to feel the implicit insult to Ellina as much as she did herself. His frown was like a thundercloud as he marched back to the door and glared down at the startled servant.
“Who are you and how dare you command the Potentate, she who is the Goddess in the Flesh?” he demanded harshly.
The servant started back in surprise, all three of his eyes going wide at the growl in the big Kindred’s voice.
“I…I am but a humble servant of the High Priest, Lord Kikbax,” he stammered. “I was sent to fetch her.”
“You do not ‘fetch’ Y’res the Fourth, as though she were a child or a pet,” Commander Ty’rial snapped. “And you will beg her pardon on bended knee for insulting her. Now.”
He pointed to the floor of the open doorway and glared at the servant.
Flustered, the other male got down on his knees, though he still tried to protest.
“But my master is the High Priest! And he says she must come at once! All the people are waiting. ”
“Your master and the people both may wait upon the pleasure of my Lady, the Potentate,” Commander Ty’rial growled. “And I have not yet heard your apology, servant.”
His emphasis on the man’s inferior status when compared to Ellina herself and his insistence on an apology made the servant’s face turn purple with embarrassed rage. But one look at the Kindred warrior towering over him and he bent his head low, as was proper in the presence of the Potentate, and mumbled something about deepest regrets and hopes that her Royal Majesty had not been offended.
Ellina had the feeling that Commander Ty’rial was going to insist that the servant speak up and make a more proper apology but at that point, she just wanted him gone.
“You may tell your master that I will be there when I am ready,” she said in her most imperious, “Potentate and Goddess” voice. “For now, you are dismissed.”
Lord Kikbax’s servant bobbed his head once more and then scrambled hastily up from the floor and ran off, no doubt to tell the High Priest how wrong-headed and rebellious the new young Potentate was acting.
Ellina didn’t care. In fact, she was glad that the servant—and the High Priest, his master—had been put in their places. Commander Ty’rial was right—she was not to be fetched or ordered about by anyone and it was time that Lord Kikbax recognized that.
Yet even the triumph of the moment couldn’t quite quell the sick, stomach-churning fear she felt when she thought of going out on the Grand Balcony and drinking from the Cup of Wisdom.
The tall Kindred seemed to sense this because he closed the door to her bed chamber and came forward to take her hand in his. His fingers were warm and so much longer than hers that she felt like a child as he led her to the low sofa covered in rare golden zanda fibers and seated her on it. Then, instead of sitting at her side, he knelt on one knee before her and looked into her eyes.
“Now tell me, Your Highness,” he rumbled. “What’s this all about? You truly think your old guard was poisoned?”
“Yes…no…I don’t know!” Ellina said. She bit her lip. “All I know is that he was perfectly fine a few weeks before my coronation and then he was suddenly taken ill with a mysterious ‘wasting sickness’ that even the best physician in the land was unable to cure. He…Guffin…” She choked on the old guard’s name and almost couldn’t continue. “He…he wasted so quickly and then he was burned in state and his ashes scattered to the dunes above,” she made herself say. “So by the time I thought to wonder if his illness might be due to poison, it was too late…too late.” She shook her head.
“He meant a great deal to you, this Guffin of yours.” It was a statement, not a question, and Commander Ty’rial’s deep voice was quiet. When she glanced up at him, Ellina saw that his eyes were softer than she had ever seen them.
“He was always there for me, after my parents were assassinated,” she whispered. “I knew he would always keep me safe so I wasn’t afraid, even though they were dead. He…he’s only been gone less than a solar month…and I…I…”
But her words ended in
