Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [75]
“Caelan!” she said in surprise. “Put me down.”
He was scowling as he carried her back toward the cave. “You mustn’t be outside. It isn’t safe.”
“Put me down. Caelan, stop!”
“It’s for your own safety. The cave is a place of sanctuary. It will keep the—”
“I no longer have the poison within me.”
He stopped in his tracks and stared at her, puzzlement filling his eyes. “How can this be?”
“It’s gone.”
“Are you saying it faded away? I don’t believe it.”
“No, I am not saying that. The Magria took it from me.”
He blinked. “The Magria?”
“The leader of the Penestricans. Don’t say you’ve never heard of her.”
“But where is she?” he asked, looking around. “How—”
“Never mind how,” Elandra said impatiently. His arms still held her effortlessly, and her heart was thudding too fast. She had never felt like this before—other than in her dreams. She felt fire in her cheeks, and pushed free of his embrace. Not until her feet were firmly on the ground did she dare trust her voice again.
“I am free, do you understand? Aren’t you pleased?”
“Yes, of course. I’m pleased, very pleased.” He found a smile for her, but it didn’t last long. He seemed restless, jumpy. He looked guilty, almost disappointed.
Frowning, she glared at him with disappointment of her own.
Men were brutes, every one of them. They had all the wit and understanding of a sack of flour.
She had thought he would be joyful. She expected him to sweep her into his powerful arms and kiss her. Instead he stood here, looking as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and he did nothing.
Right then, she almost hated him. Why couldn’t he look into her eyes and know that her heart had softened? She would rather be strangled than bend her pride enough to tell him so. If he couldn’t tell, then he didn’t care. She had misled herself. She was a fool.
“The emperor is dead,” she blurted out.
Caelan stared at her, and she could have bitten her own tongue. Her face was aflame, and she felt as though she’d been dipped in burning oil.
That wasn’t what she had meant to say, but now it was said, and he did need to know.
Only she wasn’t ready for the ambition to come surging back into his gaze. She wasn’t ready to see him square his shoulders and lift his head like a eagle. She had wanted a few more minutes of his attention, but already he was gazing into the distance, the wheels of his mind turning rapidly.
“How do you know this?” he asked.
“I was told by the Magria.”
Again he frowned. “Why did she come here? How—”
“To rescue me,” Elandra said, frowning back. “I told you that, Caelan E’non. Don’t you care?”
“My name is not E’non,” he interrupted sharply, a new tone in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. “I will not wear that name. Better I go nameless, like a bastard, than carry that.”
Her face went hot from an emotion other than passion, and she stepped away from him as though burned.
He stared at her with his brows raised. Then sudden comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Forgive me. I meant no slur against you.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said bitterly. “The facts of my birth are well known.”
Consternation filled his face. He reached out to her, but she backed away. Her back was rigid; her hands were clenched at her sides.
“Please,” he said. “Don’t be angry at me. I spoke without thinking. The things I learned today about my own parentage ... no matter. I have no right to take my anger out on you. Truly, I am glad that you have been healed.”
She stared at him, her eyes widening. “Are you saying your father isn’t—that you aren’t—”
Caelan’s jaw clenched hard.
“I’m sorry,” she said swiftly, trying to retreat. “I should not ask something so personal.”
A wry expression crossed his face, and he gave her a twisted little smile. “At least your parents are human,” he said bitterly. “At least your father could sire you without having to be enspelled. It seems I am something the Choven created in order to save the world.”
Elandra