It was Junce Roundface.
Emriana's chest felt like it was bound in iron bands, slowly tightening, crushing her. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and her heart thudded rapidly. She couldn't believe the words that Grozier Talricci was telling her.
Vambran and Uncle Kovrim, dead, drowned at sea? It couldn't be! Emriana felt like she was being sucked into a whirlpool, dragged down, down, into the depths of the Abyss.
"So, with Hetta and Xaphira as well as your older brother all deceased," the horrid man said, "Quindy and Obiron, as Evester's descendants, are the rightful heirs to the estate. And since they are not of age yet to properly run the family business, the responsibility falls to Marga. And she," Grozier finished, smiling warmly at his sister, who was sitting in a chair looking positively smug, "has agreed that I should share the responsibilities as guardian for them, administering the household for them until such time as they are ready to handle those affairs themselves."
"You're such a liar," Emriana snarled, trying to stare daggers through Grozier. "You had something done to Xaphira, and your thugs tried to do it to me, too, and you know it!" she shouted, her voice nearly rising to a scream. The girl turned desperately to the other occupants in the room, silently pleading for someone, anyone, to stand with her against the man who was succeeding in usurping her family estate. "Please," she pleaded. "Don't let him do this."
But the only people in the sitting room at that time-other than the house staff, a couple of Grozier's own guards, and the ever-present Bartimus-were Marga, who looked entirely unsympathetic, Nimra and Mirolyn Skolotti, who were in no position to do anything, and Ladara, who was weepy-eyed. Emriana's mother sat near Hetta's body, sobbing quietly and looking miserably at her daughter from time to time. The girl knew Ladara would never lift a finger to do anything, had never done anything except meekly follow Hetta around like a devoted sheep.
"There is nothing for anyone to do," Grozier said, a hint of mocking in his voice. "They all realize that this is proper. With Marga's blessing, I have the right."
Emriana looked at her sister-in-law. "How could you?" she said accusingly. "We gave you a home, always treated you like part of the family. This man is responsible for Evester's death! Your husband. My brother!"
Marga let her smile deepen. "I would not be too ferocious in my accusations, if I were you," she said coldly. "It would not be a difficult matter to have you and your mother thrown out of here."
Emriana let her jaw drop, dumbfounded. "This is my house!" she shouted. "It belongs to me more than to either of you!" And the rage got the better of her, and she darted across the room, one arm drawn back, ready to pound the woman smiling smugly at her.
The girl got within a couple of paces, but Grozier's men interceded, preventing her from reaching her target. They latched onto her arms and yanked her back as she kicked and flailed. Oh, how she wished she had learned more of Xaphira's skills. She longed to kick and punch like her aunt had been able to, to strike the two men hindering her from reaching her real quarry. She longed for one of her throwing daggers. They would not block one of those, she was sure. She could not understand how they could have such loyalty to a man such as Grozier Talricci, a man without honor.
"Stop it! Stop it," someone said from behind Emriana, and cool hands were on her shoulders, gently but firmly drawing her back, away from the two men, away from Grozier and Marga. It was Jaleene, using a soothing tone that she had often employed when Emriana was a child. The girl felt like a child right then, helpless, surrounded by condescending adults who said nice things merely to humor her. Emriana gave another hateful glare at Marga; then she looked at Grozier.
"You cannot remove me," she said flatly, as though it were a fact that deserved no argument. "And I will see you undone, before you can ruin my family's name and honor. I won't permit it," she spat.
Grozier lunged forward, his hand drawn back as if to strike her. Ladara shrieked, and Marga had to reach up to restrain the man. Still, he came very close to reaching the girl, and despite herself, she cringed the slightest bit. He saw her reaction and smiled.
"You are nothing," he said at last, jerking free of his sister's grasp and straightening himself. "You will mind your manners, and you will obey my rules in this household every day, without fail. I will know where you are at all times, and you will have guards posted outside of every exit to your rooms at night. There will be no more of this sneaking about, interfering with the work of adults. Oh, and you will hand over that infernal pendant that your brother gave you. I have better uses for it than you ever will."
Emriana felt her eyes widen. Her hand went to her heart, where the pendant hung inside her shirt, nestled between her breasts. Vambran's birthday present. Vambran, who was dead. "No." she said. "You may not have it."
Grazier's eyebrow shot up. "Those are the conditions by which you may remain on the premises," he said, shrugging as if it were the most expected thing in the world. "If you defy me, you will be removed, by force if necessary. Choose now."
"No, please don't," Ladara sobbed from her position next to Hetta's body. Emriana thought she was talking to Grozier, that the woman was finally finding the courage to stand up to someone on her behalf, but when she turned to look, Ladara was gazing at her, not Grozier. "Don't cross him, Em," her mother pleaded. "You're only a child. You cannot survive out beyond House Matrell. Do as he says!"
Shock and hurt flooded through the girl all over again. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell her mother just how insulting she was being, but then she snapped it shut again, realizing the futility of trying to get her mother to understand anything beyond her own clinging needs. She shook her head sadly and turned away.
Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to walk, to turn her back on everything that she had grown up with, had loved, for the sake of pride. The notion of leaving the house forever terrified her. She had no idea what she would do, where she would go, but she would not stay and live under Grozier Talricci's thumb. She'd be damned if she'd ever do that.
Em, came a faint voice, Hetta's voice, from inside her head. The girl froze, wide-eyed again, staring at her grandmother's still form. Em, come to me. The sound of her grandmother calling to her stunned Emriana, but before she realized what she was doing, she padded across the floor to where her grandmother lay at rest.
Ladara apparently thought that her daughter was coming to her, and she reached out to envelop Emriana in a hug, but the girl shrugged clear and knelt down next to her grandmother's head instead. She gazed at the elderly woman's face, so still, so serene. She couldn't believe that Hetta was dead. She seemed asleep, though there was no rise or fall of her chest.
Em, take my hand, Hetta's voice commanded. Confused, unsure if she was hearing things or imagining them, Emriana slowly reached out and took her grandmother's two hands in her own. They were icy cold to the touch, and the girl almost recoiled in revulsion, but it was her grandmother, her sweet, adorable Hetta. Emriana clasped the two frail, wrinkled hands in her own and squeezed them.
Voices or no, I love you, she said silently, letting the tears fall freely. I miss you already.
Take the ring from my finger, Em, Hetta's voice instructed, and it was clearer, louder than before. Emriana nearly gasped aloud, but she calmed herself and looked at her grandmother's hands. There, on the fourth finger of her right hand, was a silver ring with a ruby set into it. The moment that Emriana closed her own hand about it, she felt a surge of energy, felt another presence inside her body.