Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [117]
Satisfied, Elandra turned and went to gaze out the window. The rain had stopped, and the night lay heavy and still save for the sound of water running through the stone gutters. In the distance she could hear the hunting cough of panthers and the shrill death screams of their prey.
The sound of the opening door made her whirl around in relief.
But it was not Caelan who emerged. Instead, she saw the jinja darting inside.
“No!”
Exasperated, she ran after it, but the jinja was too quick. In a rapid blur of unnatural speed, it darted here and there around the room, finally coming to a halt at the foot of Albain’s bed. The lamp had burned out. Elandra could see only by the light that shone inside from behind her.
She listened a moment, gazing about. Her father lay propped up on his tall pillows. His head had fallen over to one side. She did not see Caelan.
Hesitating, she opened the door wider, allowing more light inside. She even looked behind the door. Caelan was not there.
Her hand went to her throat in nameless fear. She looked at the jinja. “Is it safe?” she whispered.
The jinja shook itself the way a dog shakes water from its coat. “Safe. No magic. No bad.”
She could not make herself believe it. Picking up a lamp from the antechamber, she went into the room and closed the door firmly after her. She went first to her father.
He lay so quiet and still she feared he had died. But when she touched his hand, it felt warm with life. Some color had returned to his cheeks, and she realized he was breathing normally, with none of the rasping struggle of before.
Hope made her draw in a sharp breath. She opened his sleeping shirt and ran her fingertips delicately across his side. Much of the bruising had faded. His ribs felt whole beneath her touch.
Albain stirred slightly, frowning, and she drew the covers higher, smoothing them and stroking his forehead. He no longer had fever. Clearly he lay in a healing sleep, already on the mend. The miracle she had asked for had been achieved.
Tears stung her eyes, welling up through her lashes. She blinked, and twin tears ran down her cheeks. Grateful, she sank to her knees beside him and clung to his hand.
“Oh, Father,” she whispered through her tears of relief. “Oh, Father.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Caelan did not return. No one had seen him. No one could explain how he had left Albain’s chamber without being seen.
Frustrated and worried, Elandra retired to her apartments. By lamplight she undressed herself, wary of even the servants. She put her knife beneath her pillow and stretched out beneath the soft curtains of insect netting.
Her dreams were troubled and restless. She moaned and tossed in the humid darkness; then a sound close by awakened her. Opening her eyes, she found herself dazzled by lamplight shining over her. a shadowy silhouette stood by her bedside, holding the lamp aloft.
Elandra gasped and sat bolt upright with one hand on the knife under her pillow and the other gripping her jewel pouch.
“Begone from me,” she said.
Her voice sounded quivery and afraid, not strong like she wanted it to be.
The figure lowered the lamp until her face was also illuminated. As she saw the features of the woman standing beside her, Elandra’s fear was replaced by anger.
She flung aside the insect netting and scrambled out of bed. Dressed in shapeless linen that kept slipping off one shoulder, her hair flowing around her like a veil, she glared at her visitor.
“You pick a poor time to come calling,” she said to the woman who had borne her. “Or do you always prowl in other people’s rooms in the middle of the night?”
Her mother glared back, looking haughty and regal in robes of dark green. “Is that all the greeting you will give me? Is there no respect in you?”
“Do you deserve more?”
“Do you know who I am, Elandra?”
Elandra drew in a sharp, angry breath, but her mother raised her hand.
“I have the right to address you by your name, whether you wish it or not.”
Slowly Elandra mastered her anger, controlled it. Her mother was correct, but she did not have