Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [130]
Saying nothing, she went to stand beside him.
He bent his grizzled head to her. “Daughter?” he asked quietly.
“He’s coming,” she replied. Her voice was like glass, smooth and cool, giving nothing away.
Albain’s frown deepened, but he did not press her further.
By then Caelan was coming in. He paused just inside the doorway and stood there in unconscious male magnificence. Dressed like a Gialtan warrior, he still looked foreign and exotic. His shoulders seemed to fill the doorway. His blue eyes were wary but assured.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere changed. Every warlord present squared his shoulders, drew himself taller, let his hand fall with false idleness onto his sword hilt. No one had forgotten yesterday. The air felt male and violent.
Elandra sensed it, and her scorn grew. They might as well pound their chests and scream at each other. Or perhaps, like yesterday, they would go outside and fight. Men were such fools.
It was Albain who should have made the first move, but Pier stepped forward to face Caelan. Almost of equal height, the two men eyed each other, their faces giving nothing away.
Elandra glanced at her father, curious to see how he tolerated Pier’s actions. Albain was first warlord of Gialta; Pier was only second. Why must Pier constantly test Albain, constantly push?
“You enter this council room by permission, not by right,” Pier said to Caelan. “Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
Pier looked as though he would say something else; then he stepped aside.
Elandra glanced at her father again. His expression was as stony as Caelan’s.
He stood where he was and let Caelan advance to him. Caelan’s stride was like a panther’s—graceful, lithe, hinting at explosive strength. In spite of herself, Elandra could feel her admiration returning. There was no welcome for him in this room, but he did not seem to care. She told herself that this was a man \yho had walked into arenas and been stared at by tens of thousands of people. This was a man who had impressed Emperor Kostimon. A few Gialtan warlords were no match for such experience.
They had all—except Albain—witnessed his tremendous strength and fighting prowess yesterday, although it was only a hint of what he could do. There was not a man present who did not envy him, who did not long to take him.
He stopped in front of Elandra and Albain. Not once did his gaze flicker to her.
Respectfully he bowed to the older man and waited for Albain to acknowledge him. He showed no impatience when Albain let the silence stretch out. Albain studied him openly, almost rudely. But if he thought to disconcert Caelan, he did not realize Caelan had learned to endure worse examinations on the auction block.
Caelan’s indifference to the scrutiny was the best response he could have chosen, made better by the fact that it was natural and honest, not an attempt to impress Albain.
“So you are the man who saved my life,” Albain said.
It was a public declaration of indebtedness. Elandra caught her breath. Her father was moving quickly, showing his hand to them all.
“Thank you,” Albain said.
“You are welcome,” Caelan replied.
Albain grunted, still not looking impressed. “I understand you should also be thanked for saving the life of my daughter, the Empress Elandra.”
“That was my duty,” Caelan replied in the toneless way of a soldier. “I need no thanks for that.”
A gasp went through the room, and even Elandra was startled. In that casual remark, Caelan had tossed away an incredible debt. Albain offered him everything in that admission—his wealth, his lands, his political support—and Caelan refused it.
Whether he wanted to be thought of as a king or not, he was acting like one. The gesture was a grand one, something most ordinary men would not have been able to make.
Albain’s eyebrows shot up. He seemed nonplussed and glanced at Elandra with a shrug.
She said nothing.