"Father." She spoke more loudly. "It's Elandra. I've come."

He groaned, frowning and turning his head. Watching his pain, she bit her lip and dared say nothing else. He had always been so large, so strong. She remembered him striding through the palace, bellowing orders and slapping his gauntlets in his palm. He always made noise wherever he went, whether it was his mail creaking or his spurs jingling, or his satisfied belches following dinner, or his fist thudding against his chair arm. He was life and movement, blunt and coa.r.s.e and ferocious. Through his days, he had worked and fought with equal vigor. To see him now so thin and frail, fading before her very eyes, seemed impossible.

Her fingers tightened on his hand, as though by their pressure she could impart her strength to him.

A tear spilled down her cheek and splashed on the coverlet. She rubbed at the spot with her thumb, feeling helpless and afraid.

"Elandra?"

She looked up to find him gazing at her. His single sighted eye was bleary with pain and medicine, but he knew her. Her tears fell freely now, and she couldn't hold them back. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek.

It felt hot and clammy beneath her lips.

Finding a shaky smile for him, she said, "h.e.l.lo, Father."

He let out his breath. "Thank the G.o.ds you are found. This madness in the-"

"Hush," she said, trying to calm him, certain he must not talk too much. "Be still. I am safe. You must not worry."

"Murdeth and Fury, but I do worry," he said, refusing to be quiet. "Kostimon dead. You gone to Gault knows where. That puppy Tirhin proclaiming himself. Madruns running wild. I-"

He broke off, coughing up blood. His face lost even more color.

Alarmed, Elandra took a cloth from the bedside table and pressed it to his lips. When the coughing fit finally ended, he lay back exhausted on his pillow.

Elandra drew in several breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart. "Now," she said at last when she could command her voice. "Let us have no more excitement. You must rest-"

His hand moved, and he shook his head. "The dead can rest," he whispered. "I have too much to do."

"Everything can wait until you are better."

His eye opened to glare at her. "Let us have honesty, not these d.a.m.ned lies," he said, wheezing. "I am dying, d.a.m.n it. You know that."

Her lips trembled, but when she answered her voice was miraculously steady. "Yes. I have been told."

"Aye. Then act sensible. Will you fight for the throne?"

His anger had steadied her. With more calm, she said, "Yes. Caelan and I want the empire."

Albain frowned, and she hastily explained, "Caelan is the man I love. A woman may choose her second husband, and I have chosen him. His destiny is very great. He is the only man who can possibly defeat the darkness that is coming."

Albain's expression did not change. She could not tell whether he accepted what she'd said or was angered by it.

"You move quickly," he said.

She bit her lip, wanting his blessing. If she had that, she could ignore everyone else. "I met him first in my dreams when I went to be trained in the Penestrican House of Women. I did not know his name then or where to find him. We are destined, that is all I know. He has saved my life too many times to mention. He brought me safely from the palace when the Madruns would have killed me. He rescued me from the realm of shadows, where Lord Sien sought to trap me. Now he has brought me here, to you, Father."

Pain shadowed Albain's face. "You knew this man in the palace of your husband?"

Embarra.s.sment filled her. "I was faithful to Kostimon," she said sharply. "Though he was not faithful to me."

Albain swallowed a cough. "Not required."

"Of him?" she said bitterly. "No, the man is always free, though the woman lives under rules like chains."

"Don't whine of your life. You are empress."

"Yes, I am. I would ask you to meet Caelan, Father. Later, for a moment, to judge him for yourself."

Albain closed his eyes and said nothing. She waited, wondering if her defiance had been too much for his scant strength.

But it seemed he was only resting. A few moments later, he opened his eyes again. "Who are his people?"

She wanted to laugh with relief. Albain might think he was still withholding judgment, but such a question gave him away. "He is a warrior, Father. He-"

"Who are his people?"

She stopped and frowned. A dozen convoluted explanations ran through her mind, but when she looked into her father's pain-riddled face she knew she must give him only the truth. "He comes from Trau," she said.

"That one!" Albain whispered. "I have heard of that one."

Elandra hesitated, then continued. "His father was a healer, the most renowned in the empire at one time. But Caelan has been touched by the Choven. They have given him his own destiny, and he is to-"

"Later," Albain whispered, his voice fading.

She picked up his rough hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry. I've stayed too long and tired you. I'll let you sleep now."

"Elandra."

His voice stopped her. She hurried back to his side. "Yes, Father?"

"Your plans."

"Oh, not now. You're too tired-"

He silenced her protest with a glare, then let his eyelids fall shut again.

She stood beside his bed like a schoolgirl and said quickly, "I plan to return to Imperia and confront Tirhin. Caelan and I need the army you promised me. With your men, it's possible we can persuade the imperial troops to join us, if they have not already scattered. I want the full support of the Gialtan warlords as well as the benefit of your secret alliances with warlords of the adjacent provinces."

He blinked, and she smiled. "Yes, I know about those. Kostimon's informant network was thorough. As long as you were loyal to him through the bindings of our marriage contract, he felt your private alliances only served to strengthen his base of power."

"h.e.l.l's d.a.m.nation," Albain said, looking disconcerted. "What else?"

Elandra drew a deep breath. "I ask for your treasury, the contents of your armory, and supplies."

He scowled at her. "Want everything."

"Everything is at stake. Did you know the governor is here, ready to confiscate your lands?"

Albain's single eye grew fierce. "Scavenging dog."

"Yes. We must act quickly. I intend to hold a war council while all the warlords are here and convince them to support us-"

"Enough," he whispered.

She fell silent at once, watching him, worrying about him. On impulse, she put her arm across him and kissed his cheek again. "Please recover. Father," she said, weeping again. "Please don't die. I need you-"

His hand lifted and feebly patted her arm. "Come later," he said, his voice a rasp. "Bring him with you."

She straightened up, feeling hope. If Caelan pa.s.sed her father's approval, then Albain would likely give her what she asked for. And how could he not be impressed by Caelan?

But her father's time was swiftly running out. He might die before his agreement was given.

Elandra watched him fall asleep and felt ashamed of herself. How could she worry about the empire when it was her father she should be concerned about? Must she be so selfish? What did it matter if Tirhin kept his ill-gotten throne? She and Caelan could go anywhere they wished, create a life together, find happiness.

Yet even as these sensible thoughts crossed her mind, she felt a sense of urgency drawing her onward to Imperia.

She wiped tears from her face, then tiptoed from the room.

Outside in the antechamber, she paused a moment to draw in deep breaths, trying to clear her lungs of the sickroom smell. While she was questioning the physicians, Lady Lyticia returned.

The woman curtsied, looking eager. "Majesty-"

Annoyed by the interruption, Elandra ignored her. "Can nothing else be tried?" she asked the chief physician.

He frowned, clearly put out by having his methods questioned. "It is not a matter of-"

"Majesty-"

In the palace, such impertinence would have been dealt with summarily on her behalf, but now Elandra had to personally put this provincial n.o.body in her place.

"Excuse me," she said to the physician, who bowed.

She turned on Lady Lyticia with a glacial look that did not seem to deter the woman at all.

"Majesty," she said, "there is a lady who wishes to-"

"You have not been acknowledged," Elandra broke in, and her tone sent color surging into the woman's cheeks. "How dare you approach me without leave? How dare you interrupt my conversation?"

Lady Lyticia's eyes grew very bright, and her mouth trembled a moment. She cast a swift glance around at the watching physicians and guards and tossed her head.

"Forgive me, Majesty," she said in a tight little voice. "I thought my position as the wife of-"

"Your husband does not own my father's estates yet," Elandra snapped.

"In the emperor's absence, we we represent-" represent-"

Everything inside Elandra froze. She stared at the woman and had never been so angry before. Rage thundered in her ears, and her hands curled into fists. But at her core, she was brutally, ruthlessly cold. She realized that this woman was treating her as an empress consort, nothing more. Everyone was. She should have determined that from the first moment of her arrival, except the news of her father had been too much of a shock.

In that moment, Elandra finished growing up. She knew she could not be soft-edged and compliant, and accomplish her goals. She had always wanted to please others, to have others like her.

Now, none of that mattered. Her world was in chaos. Her father was dying. She had lost every material possession she owned. She had nothing to lose, no one to please, and only one direction to go.

Her gaze impaled Lady Lyticia's. She said, "You have forgotten that your sovereign is present."

Lady Lyticia turned pale. "But-but-"

"Furthermore, that means my father's estates will revert to me. You may tell your governor husband now to stop evaluating the contents of this household, for he will never put his hands on any of it."

"But-"

"You are dismissed."

Lady Lyticia stood rooted in place, livid and wide-eyed, her mouth open and gasping.

Elandra turned her back on the woman and looked at the physicians, who hastily a.s.sumed respectful poses.

"You were saying?" Elandra prompted the chief physician.

Holding his beard in one hand, he bowed low to her. "It is our concerted opinion," he said, his gaze flickering slightly as the guards put a sobbing Lady Lyticia outside the room, "that nothing can be done. When a man is crushed inside, he may live for several days in terrible pain, but his life force cannot be contained."

Grief stabbed through Elandra. "This is unacceptable."

The man bowed again. "Sometimes, Majesty, our desires are not sufficient to change the way things are."

She whirled away from him and swept from the room, barely aware of the guards saluting her. There had to be a way to save her father, some means other than feeding him opium for the pain and saying nothing else could be done. She knew only one person who might know what to do.

An empress did not run, but Elandra was past caring what anyone thought of her actions. Holding up her skirts, she strode through the corridors and down a series of steps.

When she pa.s.sed a pair of guards standing at attention before a pa.s.sageway that led to the kitchens, she paused.

"You and you," she said crisply. "I require your attendance."

Looking startled, the men approached her. They were much alike in appearance, both wiry and dark-skinned. Both wore sleeveless jerkins with dagger belts crisscrossed over their chests. They carried ceremonial pikes. They looked like brothers.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked.

Her tone was abrupt and harsh, not at all womanly. She had no idea as she stood there, fuming with anger and impatience, how much she sounded like her father at that moment, how her jaw was clenched just like his, and how fiercely her eyes were snapping.

The men bowed low. "Aye, verily," one replied. "Thou art the daughter of our lord. Thou art the wife of our dead emperor, a woman of full rights and property, unveiled."

Her chin lifted in satisfaction. "Protect me as you would Lord Albain. I will endure no more insults beneath this roof. I will have no one stand in my way."

The men straightened. Their dark eyes gleamed with understanding, and before they spoke, she knew she had their absolute loyalty.

"Give me your names."

"I am Alti."