“Thank you, Captain,” she whispered.
Then she turned her gaze helplessly to stare at the burning palace on the shore and that terrible, supporting rage flickered and she sagged as the agony whipped through her again. The surgeon’s hands touched her, urging her to lie flat, and the moment his hands touched her, the terrible pain in her heart eased away, grew dim, disappeared. He was murmuring softly to her.
“Rest, now, Your Grand Highness, close your eyes, yes, that’s right, we’ve got you safe, hush, now. Breathe softly…softly…light as down feathers from a gosling…”
Her eyes closed over unutterable weariness.
Andrin’s last thought was a plea to Shalana. Have mercy, Lady, please. Let my parents and sisters be alive. Please, I can’t bear this burden alone…
Then even that disappeared.
* * *
Relatha Kindare had come a long way from Estafel and the servants’ quarters at Hawkwing Palace. Trainee Healer. Those two words meant more to her than anything ever had in her life, and she had the crown princess to thank for it. Not only had she been accepted into the training program at the legendary Tajvana Healing Academy, one of the Imperial Healers had volunteered to give her extra tutelage in his spare time.
But for tonight, she was just Relatha the servant, again, by choice. She’d wanted to be part of the celebration at the Grand Palace, and gods knew the Grand Palace staff needed all the help they could get! Since she was already well-known and thoroughly vetted by Security, it had been relatively easy to be added to the duty roster for the evening.
So here she was, in the midst of the glittering assemblage on the stone terrace, carrying a tray of drinks, enjoying the fireworks, and surreptitiously stealing glances at the Ylani Straits. She hadn’t learned until just a few minutes ago that the crown princess and her husband were leaving Tajvana for a few weeks of long delayed honeymoon.
If she looked sharp, she could just pick out the dark silhouette of the royal yacht slipping out of the harbor, to be joined by the destroyers waiting in mid-channel, and her eyes went watery. Such a good man, she’d found. Relatha had gone nearly out of her mind thinking about Andrin in the hands of one of Chava Busar’s unholy brood. During her work at the clinic attached to the school, she’d heard horror tales of girls who’d come in for medical help and emotional counseling after running afoul of the Uromathian emperor’s sons. The thought of any of them with Crown Princess Andrin had made Relatha’s blood run cold.
She was just passing Mister Kinlafia and his bride, the Privy Voice, who were talking to First Councilor Taje about some piece of legislation, when shouts erupted on the balcony above the terrace. Relatha jerked her gaze up to see the emperor running toward the Palace, shouting at the empress to get off the balcony.
She froze, unable to breathe, even, when Security started to run, as well, converging on the Imperial family. The emperor was shouting for Anbessa, but Relatha didn’t see the youngest Imperial Grand Princess anywhere on the long marble balcony. She raked her gaze along the whole, immense length of it-the marble balustrade ran for at least fifty or sixty feet along the open doors of the Grand Imperial Salon-but there was no sign of Anbessa anywhere.
Relatha gripped her tray of wineglasses hard enough to hurt when Security lifted the Empress Varena and Grand Princess Razial over the side of the balcony rail, lowering them to the armsmen below. What was wrong, up there? Why hadn’t they just retreated into the safety of the Grand Imperial Salon? Was there a crazed gunman in the salon? Surely not-Security would’ve been on top of him long before this and there hadn’t been a single gunshot. But if everyone else was running away from the salon, why was the emperor running into it-?
The empress touched the terrace first, followed an instant later by Razial. More Calirath armsmen were vaulting the rail, jumping down to close in around the empress and her daughter. They were shouting at everyone to get back, away from the building, and Relatha stumbled backward, her hands unsteady on the tray. She needed someplace to set it down as more people crowded back, away from the palace walls, but her eyes were locked on the emperor as he slid between two or his armsman like an eel and disappeared through one of the Grand Imperial Salon’s dozens of doors.
The armsmen charged after him. She could hear them calling his name, but the emperor’s voice rose over theirs like thunder, shouting at Anbessa. The girl must be inside the Salon, Relatha realized, and craned her head, trying to see as more people crowded around her, partially blocking her view-
The Salon exploded.
Relatha screamed. She dropped the tray as the whole, long room filled with fire. The Salon was a raging inferno-an inferno licking out to envelop the Emperor of Sharona and his armsmen. There was fire everywhere-only fire, roaring and hissing like one of the Arcanans’ dragons-and then a small, familiar figure arrowed out of the furnace, thrown high into the air. She cartwheeled out above the crowd, her gown smoking and trailing cinders.
“It’s Anbessa!” someone screamed, even as a heavier, far more massive body came charging out of that flaming hell.
And then there was a second explosion.
The blast front picked up that heavier body and flung it out across the night in a corona of fire.
Dozens of people were reaching up, trying to catch the grand princess as she fell, but Relatha’s gaze tracked that second, heavier body. She knew exactly where he’d come down, and she started to run, shoving her way through the stunned crowd, even as the Salon blew apart in a third massive explosion.
Flame and death belched out into the night, an overpressure of sound and debris roared across the terrace at treetop height, and the entire balcony came down.
Chunks of marble slammed down into the crowd, and Zindel chan Calirath plunged down like a boulder as shocked spectators screamed and scattered. He crashed into the elegant little tables set with crystal and candles, punchbowls and wine and fancy pastries. He smashed down across them. Slid through them. Tumbled and rolled sickeningly off the end. Vanished into a large flowerbed filled with trees and shrubbery and flowers.
Panic-stricken people slammed into Relatha. Heavy bodies almost knocked her down, and she cursed and shoved people aside. She ran frantically forward, toward the spot where the emperor had fallen. More of the balustrade crashed down around them, sending people running in wild terror, but Relatha Kindare didn’t care. She fought her way to him. She hurled overturned tables out of the way, climbed across tumbled chairs, heaved burning debris aside with her bare hands as she searched frantically through the shrubbery.
There!
He lay at a grotesque angle, and he was frightfully still. Horribly still. No! she cried in denial, and dropped to her knees, nerved herself to search. Her fingers shook as she reached for his wrist.…
A pulse! She sobbed aloud just once. Then she closed her eyes, concentrated…and whimpered.
There was pain everywhere. Pain from broken bones-dozens of broken bones. Some of those breaks lay near major arteries, too close for her to dare to move him, even though his pulse was thready, fast, and weak. Shock was dropping his blood pressure, far too quickly, and she concentrated hard. Energy flowed through her body, down through her heart, where she filled it with as much love and strength as she could muster.