Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [123]
The captain of the guard obliged, and supported Albain back down the hall into his apartments. As Albain sank onto his bed, wheezing and grunting, the captain saluted smartly, wheeled around, and marched out.
Elandra heard the man issuing a string of orders before he reached the outer doors, and footsteps thundered up and down the corridor.
There was the jinja to be soothed, the swords to be put away, the bedclothes smoothed, pillows plumped, the valet to be reassured, her father to be quieted.
“I’m hungry,” Albain complained as Elandra pulled the coverlet over him and tucked in the edges. “My stomach’s flapping against my backbone. Have the kitchen send up a haunch of roasted gazelle. Cold meat will do.”
“Hush,” Elandra said, mopping perspiration from his face. She nodded at the valet, who left to fetch some food. “You must lie quiet and rest now. You’ve done enough.”
Albain grunted, clearly enjoying the fuss.
Servants kept peeking in at him, only to whisk out of sight the moment he or Elandra looked their way.
“Will they stop doing that?” Albain complained. “Throw my boot at the next one who—”
A fit of coughing interrupted him. When it was over, he lay spent on his pillows.
Worriedly, Elandra listened to his lungs. They sounded clear, but he needed to conserve his strength.
“Be still,” she said in growing exasperation. “I’ll get you some broth—”
“Broth! Gault’s breath, I don’t want broth!”
“Then you won’t have anything,” she shot back at him while the valet nervously brought in a tray containing soft bread, a bowl of steaming soup, and boiled eggs. “Be reasonable, sir, and let me take proper care of you.”
He scowled. “I won’t be coddled and unmanned by a bunch of women and servants. I want meat, not broth. Do you hear?”
“I imagine the whole palace can hear,” she said dryly. “When you’re done shouting, perhaps you’ll remember that a few hours ago you were trying to breathe your last. You might also realize that your ribs wouldn’t hurt so much if you’d just calm down.”
He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her so ferociously she was tempted to kiss his cheek. Instead, however, she gestured for the valet to put the food tray on the table. She began cutting up one of the eggs.
It wasn’t until she popped a piece into her mouth that Albain blinked.
“Elandra!” he said in consternation. “You aren’t going to eat my dinner right in front of me, are you?”
“You don’t want it.”
His scowl came back. “Unnatural girl—”
“I learned from you.” Smiling, she held out a piece of the egg.
After a moment, his expression softened, and he took it. He ate everything on the tray, and drank two goblets of water, complaining all the time that he wanted wine.
“No wine so soon after a fever,” Elandra said firmly as the tray was removed.
She smoothed the coverlet again, whisking away a few crumbs, and Albain caught her hand.
“Daughter,” he said gruffly.
She paused, meeting his gaze.
“How did you know to wake me? How did you know about the assassins?”
She frowned, not wanting to hurt him. “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
“No, we’ll discuss it now.”
“Father, you’re tired.”
“Don’t evade me, Elandra!” he said sharply. “What do you know about this?”
“I have only suspicions, no proof.”
“You had something, enough to come and save my life.”
Elandra bit her lip, but his eye was relentless. It bored into her, refusing to let her escape an explanation.
“Speak up. No lies!”
“Very well. Lady Iaris came to my rooms tonight.”
His expression grew blank. He dropped her hand. “Iaris.”
Elandra nodded. “She had questions about Caelan, who he was, where he came from. But I sensed another purpose in her.”
“What else did she ask?”
Albain’s voice was quiet now, perhaps too calm. His face gave nothing away.
“She and Lord Pier intend to sway the council in Tirhin’s favor. They don’t want me or Caelan upsetting the new balance of power. Lord Demahaud is counting on inheriting your estates, and Lord Pier wants your rank and influence.”
“Go on.”
“You stand in their way if you oppose Tirhin and support me.