“It’s a gesture of respect and thanks,” she answered, as she waved back at them, repeating the gesture herself.
“But that word—‘Lan’Glaver,’. What does it mean? What are they calling me?” he demanded.
“Goddess-savior,” Ellina answered. “Or Goddess-protector, depending on how you want to translate it from Old Chorkay. It’s—”
“It’s nothing but a meaningless title from a foolish old legend,” a new voice said beside him.
Looking down, Ty saw that the High Priest had climbed the stairs as well. Now he stood beside them, huffing and puffing with the effort of the ascent, a grim frown on his face.
“Come on!” he exclaimed, glaring at Ty. “What are you about, keeping the Potentate out in the open so long? There’s just been an attack! We need to get her safe under cover somewhere.”
Ty wanted to point out that Lord Kikbax hadn’t been so set on keeping Ellina under cover earlier, when he insisted that she march in this damned parade surrounded by those idiotic noblemen who had nearly fouled everything up during the fighting. But he had to grudgingly admit that the High Priest was right on this point at least. Just because one attack had been repelled didn’t mean another couldn’t happen.
Clearly there was someone out there who very badly wanted Ellina dead—it was time to get her to safety where he could protect her.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The shaking didn’t start until hours after the attack was over. Not until after Ellina had sat with Ty and the High Priest while everyone involved in planning the Grand Promenade was interviewed and interrogated.
But no one seemed to know who had invited the traveling troupe of entertainers—a troupe which had only been at Court a day or two—to join the parade. The Grand Seneschal thought it had been the Music Marshall’s idea. But the Music Marshall said the Entertainment Director was at fault. He, in turn, blamed the Special Events Coordinator and round and round it went until Ty roared,
“Stop! Does no one in this benighted Court have any damn idea of who these assassins were or how they came here or who sent them?”
It seemed that no one did. And since all the assassins had been killed by the end of the attack—(the High Priest had killed one himself, the fool who had thrown the bombs in the first place)—there was no one to question and demand answers from.
“Sloppy,” Ty growled in obvious disgust. “Really damn sloppy! Your carelessness nearly got your Potentate killed today!” he roared at the assembled dignitaries, who flinched back from his red-eyed rage. “There will be no more public appearances unless I have a detailed plan of the proceedings first as well as a checklist of everyone, everyone involved! Do I make myself clear?”
“I beg your pardon, Commander Ty’rial,” the High Priest huffed, clearly insulted by the big Kindred’s tone. “But don’t you think you’re getting above your station? You’re only a simple bodyguard and yet you’re acting like the Potentate’s consort, ordering everyone around as you are, for Thufar’s sake.”
“I’ll act any way I have to in order to keep my Lady safe,” Ty growled, glaring down at him until Lord Kikbax dropped his eyes resentfully. “I have sworn an oath to keep the Potentate safe or die trying and I’ll be damned if I break it. Ellina will be staying in her royal apartments until it’s safe for her to come out again.”
There was a collective gasp in the room and Ellina knew why—Ty had slipped and used her first name which, as an off-worlder, he ought not even to know, let alone use so familiarly.
“I agree with Ty—I mean, Commander Ty’rial,” she said quickly, speaking up to cover his error. “I find myself extremely reluctant to go out again until those who were responsible for today’s attack are captured. And now, I am tired,” she went on, before anyone could start to argue. “It has been a dreadfully long day and I wish to go to bed. Good night, gentlemen.”
She had risen on shaky legs and swayed for a moment. Though she tried to be strong, she was suddenly more weary than she could ever remember being in her life.
Ty was there at once, offering his arm. Ellina took it gratefully, murmuring her thanks, and he led her away—out of the conference room—and back to her apartments.
“Are you all right?” he’d asked, once he got her seated before the fire—which he built up to a roaring blaze to counteract the chill in the air.
Ellina nodded jerkily. She wasn’t certain if she was all right or not but the habit of showing a calm face, even in crisis—or the aftermath of a crisis—was very strong.
Ty looked at her, frowning.
“What you need is a stiff drink,” he said at last. “I’ll go get one.”
He left and Ellina stared into the fire, the flickering flames leaping high in the grate. Though she tried not to let them, the events of the Grand Promenade were playing out in her mind’s eye, over and over again.
The bomb-throwing fool…the assassin acrobats springing onto the stage with deadly intent…the screaming, scrambling nobles all shoving and jostling and trying to get away…the huge rock that had squished Hennessy to jelly…
She didn’t want to think about it but Ellina somehow couldn’t forget the way his face had turned to pulp as the giant rock smashed down on him. It had happened so fast she shouldn’t have been able to see such vivid details but somehow she had—or else her brain was making her think she had—and she couldn’t get it out of her head…
And that was when the shaking started.
I could have been killed tonight…I almost was killed tonight. Someone wants me dead. And if they want it badly enough, sooner or later they’ll get
