Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [127]
Expecting her father, she smiled. But when Iaris walked in, the smile dropped from Elandra’s lips.
Her mother carried a small stone flask in her hands. Ignoring the hostility in Elandra’s gaze, she walked up to the bedside and put the flask on the small table. Then she stood, gazing down at Caelan. Her eyes, as usual, were unreadable.
“So this is the man who replaces your husband.”
Elandra’s face grew hot. “This is my husband.”
Iaris’s brows shot up. “I see.”
Her voice held censure and contempt, but Elandra met her gaze without shame. It was Iaris who looked away first.
“You make a scandal,” she said.
“Kostimon is dead,” Elandra replied. “Now I make my own choices.”
“You want the throne. That binds you to the place of a widow.”
“I have the throne,” Elandra said angrily.
Iaris’s eyes flashed. “Do not deceive yourself. In name only, if that. No matter how much your father yells and blusters, the men of Gialta are proud. They will not follow a woman to war.”
Elandra rose to her feet and pointed at Caelan. “They will follow a warrior. They will follow him.”
“A slave? My dear, hardly.”
“I told you he is a king.”
Iaris smiled, but it was not kindly. “You live in dreams.”
“And you judge like one blind. Did Pier’s men try to drown Caelan in the river?”
“No.”
“I hope you speak the truth,” Elandra said fiercely. “You do not want to become my enemy.”
Her mother looked at her harshly, then turned on her heel and left the room.
Elandra frowned after her a moment, then picked up the flask and unstoppered it. She sniffed cautiously at the stopper, and wrinkled her nose. Suspicious, she closed the flask and threw it out the window.
A moment later, Caelan opened his eyes. They were deeply, intensely blue, and they looked at her without recognition.
She smiled at him, gripping his hand. “Hello, beloved.”
He frowned, gazing around before his eyes returned to hers. “Hello.” He sounded very tired.
“What were you doing in the river?” she asked with a little catch in her voice.
“River?” His frown deepened. “I had to swim.”
“I see.” She smiled, pretending that his incoherence didn’t frighten her.
“I had to go under and not come up. I don’t remember why.”
“It’s all right now. You’re back. You’re safe.”
The puzzlement in his eyes faded. He smiled at her. “Elandra.”
She smiled back. “Yes. You know me now. Are you hungry?”
He shook his head. “He can’t hurt me.”
“Who?”
“He can’t. I was so afraid of him, but he is only memory.”
“You’re not making much sense, you know.”
He smiled again. “It is strange to be here. You look tired. Has something happened? Your father?”
He tried to sit up, but she pressed him back. “Father is much better. Practically well, and he won’t stay in bed. Everyone is afraid of him because he recovered so suddenly. They think he is enspelled.” The lilt in her voice dropped, and she pressed her lips to Caelan’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered brokenly. “I know it cost you too much. But thank you.”
He stroked her hair and didn’t answer. Whatever had worried him before seemed gone. There was something dreamy and far away in his eyes, an unconcern that worried her anew. He ate a little under her persuasion; then his eyes closed.
She watched him sleep, watched rest restore color to his face and take away the purple smudges beneath his eyes. She could never tire of looking at him. She wanted to memorize every line and feature of his face, for last night she had lain awake, unable to bring him into her mind. It had frightened her, not to be able to recall him with more clarity. She did not want that to happen to her again.
Alti knocked on the door. She went to it and looked out at the guard.
“Lord Albain, Majesty,” he whispered. “He has sent for you.”
“Is he still at council?” she whispered back.
“Yes, Majesty.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that their voices had awakened Caelan. He sat up, running his hands through his long hair, and she sighed.
“Let my father know I will come shortly.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
She closed the door and faced Caelan. “I’m sorry.”
He flexed