Authors: Deborah Chester
“Did the emperor
order this made?” she asked.
The woman in
charge of the jewels looked suddenly nervous. “Not exactly, Majesty.”
Elandra’s brows
lifted. “What
exactly
do you mean?”
“It is a very fine
piece of work,” the woman said, staring at the floor. “The jewels are
beautifully matched.”
“Perhaps,” Elandra
replied. “Answer my question. Did the emperor order this to be made for me?”
“No, not this
necklace. The jeweler thought your Majesty would admire it.”
“I don’t,” Elandra
said curtly. She had seen this trick pulled before at her father’s court. A
jeweler would fashion something extra and send it in among the rest of the
order. If it was accepted, he would then pad the bill accordingly. And he would
use its acceptance to solicit more orders. “I do not like it at all,” she said.
“I do not wish to wear it. If the emperor did not order it for me, then it may
be returned to its maker.”
“But—but, Majesty!”
the woman protested nervously. “It’s design was chosen by the emperor.”
“What do you mean?”
Elandra demanded. “You speak in riddles. Either he ordered it, or he did not.
Are you saying he chose this design, then changed his mind and did not request
it to be made?”
“No. It was made
to his order. I mean, another was made to his order.”
Elandra looked at
the woman in silence. By now, the woman was perspiring and knotting her fingers
together.
She looked as
though she wished to be swallowed by the floor.
When Elandra said
nothing, she gulped and began wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry,
Majesty. We thought it would please you. It was made up in garnets first,
simple, inexpensive stones, but see how much finer it is with rubies?”
Elandra refused to
look at it when the woman held it up. “For whom was the garnet necklace made?”
she asked coldly, although already she guessed.
The woman’s face
looked bloodless. “The emperor wished to give it as a gift. He often—”
“I see,” Elandra
said, her voice like ice. The ladies in waiting watched in bright anticipation.
“He often gives baubles such as this to his concubines.”
The woman licked
her lips and nodded. “Well, not exactly like it. I mean, the rubies are very
fine stones. The jeweler thought that since the emperor had commissioned the
design, it could be used—”
“This jeweler
thought that her Imperial Majesty the Empress Elandra would be happy wearing
the same necklace as a mere concubine,” Elandra said stonily. “This jeweler is
a fool.”
“Majesty, forgive—”
“No. Why should I
forgive what is a blatant insult?” Elandra said. “Who is this jeweler? What is
his name?”
The woman’s eyes
darted this way and that, but there was no escape for her. “P-Pelton, of
Fountain Street. He does very fine work. He always pleases the—”
“He does not
please me. How much did he bribe you to bring this to me?”
The woman gasped,
but Elandra held her pinned with a stony gaze.
“No more than the
others—” The woman broke off what she was saying and began to cry.”
“Get out,” Elandra
said, and turned her back.
Guards took the
woman away. Elandra refused to look at her or listen to her pleas for mercy.
She stood, opening the other jewel cases and picking through the offerings.
Everything was new. She realized they were all from jewelers like Pelton, eager
to establish custom with her by making these gifts.
Elandra knew that
any or all of them could have pitfalls such as the one she’d just avoided. How
was she to know whether these designs were submitted in honor to please her or
to trick her or to insult her? The wisest course was to avoid all of them, yet
she could not go forth without jewelry. Although she preferred simple
adornment, she must not look like anything less than an empress today. She was
still on trial. There were still innumerable mistakes she could make.
“Is this all?” she
asked finally.
One of the
assistants crept forward, eyes down, standing hunched as though in a permanent
half-bow. “Yes, Majesty.”
“But all of this
is new.”
“All the jewelers
in the city have sent their wares for your selection.”
“I don’t want
these,” Elandra said.
Everyone gaped at
her, but her mind was already shooting over the possibilities. There was only
one way to be safe.
“Bring me Fauvina’s
jewels,” she said.
Someone gasped;
she could not tell who it was. Consternation broke out.
The Mistress of
the Bedchamber approached Elandra worriedly. “Majesty, there is not time to
send to the vaults for them, even if they could be found.”
Elandra’s head
came up. She glared. “There is time, if you do not dally making objections.”
The woman
curtsied. “Majesty, forgive me. I do not object. But what if they cannot be
found?”
“Why shouldn’t
they be found?” Elandra retorted. “The jewels of the first empress? Are they
not honored? Are they not revered? Are they not kept in a special place by the
order of the emperor, as all of Fauvina’s things have been preserved? Have them
brought at once.”
“Yes, Majesty. But
the emperor must give permission—”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.
I—I—”
“Do as I command,”
Elandra said, looking the woman in the eye. The mistress curtsied again, giving
way, and turned to snap her fingers.
A half-hour ground
slowly by before hastening footsteps could be heard outside. Everyone looked
up, but it was only a messenger who came to inform the empress that her
presence was awaited.
Elandra met
everyone’s anxious eyes, and her stubbornness kicked in. When she wanted, she
could be as obstinate as her father, who had once stood alone and undaunted
against an entire war council’s wishes to attempt a peace treaty. Albain had
refused to cooperate, had refused to withdraw his troops, and had
single-handedly driven back the invaders without the support of the allied
forces. It was this action that had earned him his reputation of loyalty and
valor and brought him to the attention of a grateful emperor.
“Majesty,” the
Mistress of the Bedchamber said, “your presence is required.”
Elandra’s chin
lifted higher. She sat regally in her chair, unable to do much else in her
formidable gown. “The empress is not yet ready.”
The messenger
left, and everyone sighed. Elandra sat there, refusing to budge no matter how
nervous they got, and waited.
Finally they heard
footsteps again outside the door. This time it was a chancellor who came to
inquire how much longer the empress might be.
Murmurs at the
door; nervous explanations. The mistress glanced over her shoulder at Elandra
and murmured further.
Then she came to
Elandra’s side and curtsied. “Majesty, the chancellor would like to know—”
“Tell him the empress
is not yet ready.”
“But, Majesty, any
of these pieces would be most handsome and most suitable. If we had known
earlier, we could have had the old jewelry ready. It may be tarnished or too
brittle. If it needs a repair, that will surely not please—”
Elandra raised her
hand, and the woman fell silent.
No one dared speak
after that. They waited, the minutes dragging by. The coronation robes, heavily
embroidered and trimmed in white sable, waited on their stand. She might never
wear them.
“No one has ever
done this,” someone whispered. “To keep him waiting ... who would dare?”
Elandra knew the
risk she was taking. The emperor’s temper was always uncertain. He was
displeased enough with her already. By now his irritation must be explosive. He
could call the whole thing off. She would be dismissed in disgrace, set aside
as an abandoned wife, her reputation ruined, no prospect of future marriage to
someone else possible.
Her nerve almost
failed her. She found herself looking at some of the jewelry spilling from the
opened cases. There were some very fine emeralds glowing richly at her. They
were of a pleasing cut. The earrings would flatter her. How easy to give in.
Why had she started this in the first place? A little fit of pique could cost
her everything.
But she had
started it, and she would finish it. If she did anything less, she would be
branded as weak. Her authority, what little she possessed now, would crumble
entirely. She would never be taken seriously again. She had been insulted,
whether through some scheme of the jeweler or whether through someone at the
palace or whether through the desires of Kostimon himself she did not know, but
she would not let an insult go unchallenged. No one of Albain blood could.
Again, footsteps
came to the door. This time it was one of her guardsmen, a trifle breathless as
though he had been running. He handed the Mistress of the Bedchamber a leather
box, bowed, and retreated.
The mistress,
looking stern with disapproval, carried the box to Elandra. It was dusty and spotted
with age. The leather had rotted away in places. Elandra was shocked, for she
had truly expected Fauvina’s things to be better cared for than this.
As the box was
unlocked and opened, Elandra swallowed hard. She supposed the mistress was
right about the jewels being brittle and tarnished. She would look tawdry
wearing them. She didn’t even know if they were beautiful or horrid. She should
have never backed herself into a corner like this.
In silence the
mistress turned the box around so that Elandra might see the contents for
herself.
A muted glitter
came from the depths of the box.
“Draw back the
curtains,” Elandra commanded.
The ladies did so,
letting more sunlight into the room. Elandra reached in and pulled out a
bracelet. It was heavy and dark.
As she turned it
over, the sunlight filled the gems with life so that they blazed in her hand.
Elandra gasped.
Rows and rows of
small, square-cut gemstones filled the wide bracelet. Rubies, emeralds,
sapphires, diamonds, topazes, amethysts, spinels, citrines, and peridots all
flashed together in a radiance of color. Dropping the bracelet in her lap, she
drew out the heavy necklace with both hands. It was a large collar, studded
with the same array of stones as the bracelet, that stretched from shoulder to shoulder
and dropped to a wide V in the center. The settings were gold and very ancient,
but nothing had broken. Normally she would never have chosen pieces with so
many colors, but they did not clash, and they would look magnificent against
her cloth-of-gold dress.
These, she knew
without being told, were the true imperial jewels. No empress since Fauvina had
worn them. But their diversity clearly symbolized the many provinces that had
forged the empire. Elandra felt a shiver pass through her, as though she felt
the dead woman’s approval pass through the jewelry to her. She had been right
to insist on this. She knew it in her bones.
There was silence
around her. Elandra stopped admiring the jewelry long enough to glance at her
ladies with an open challenge in her eyes.
“I am late,” she
said. “Attend me with these final touches.”
Her command
galvanized them into action. The necklace was fastened for her, as was the
bracelet. She found rings to match. They were slightly too large for her
tapering fingers, but she slipped them on anyway. The long earrings swayed
heavily against her neck.
Elandra rose to
her feet, and they brought her a mirror. She saw herself, pale-faced, a little
shadowed beneath the eyes, but a glittering, magnificent stranger. She had
feared the clothes and the jewelry would overwhelm her, but instead for the
first time she saw her own beauty, saw how perfectly these colors and the
richness of these clothes brought her looks to life. Even her hair subdued much
more than usual, and coiled at her neck so that the crown would fit easily on
her head, made her look different—more mature, more intelligent, more lovely
than she could have ever guessed.
Startled, she
stared at herself in wonder. While she was still gazing, the ladies brought
forth the coronation robes and settled them on her slim shoulders. The heavy
gold embroidery on the robes glittered in the sunlight. The fur trim looked
regal.
She saw all the
power and privilege of her position represented tangibly for her. Elandra felt
stunned, light-headed, almost foolish. Then she rallied, thinking of her
father, thinking of her mother, whom she had never known, yet who had somehow
reached out through the visions of last night to help her.
Mother, give me
strength this day,
she prayed.
Guide my steps. Help me to act and live
with honor, as befits this responsibility I have been awarded.
A rustle around
her brought her from her thoughts. She saw the ladies-in-waiting dropping one
by one into deep curtsies around her. Elandra’s heart quickened, and her eyes
suddenly blurred with tears. She wanted to tell them of her gratitude; she
wanted to promise them that she would strive never to abuse her position. She
wanted to say so many things, yet she could say nothing.
She was an
empress. She must get used to people kneeling before her.
Turning with a
slow, perfect sweep as she had been taught to manage the tremendous weight of
her garments, Elandra accepted her gloves and a small parchment scroll
containing the blessings of Gault. She started forward, walking against the
drag of her train and robes behind her.
The double doors
were thrown open, and a herald’s cry went before her into the passageway,
echoed again and again by each herald on station within the palace. In the
distance, she heard a long drumroll begin.
Chancellors in
their fur-trimmed robes, carrying their staffs of office, hovered about, bowing
deeply to her, then gesturing which direction for her to turn. Looking neither
right nor left, her unveiled face solemn as she met the stares, Elandra walked
through another set of open doors into a small chamber containing two gilded
chairs and nothing else.