Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [88]
Caelan struck him across the mouth with the back of his hand. “Do not interrupt her Majesty!”
Bwend sank lower, spitting blood on the snow, silent and obedient now.
The other Thyzarene groaned and rolled over.
Caelan spun around and grabbed him by the back of his fur tunic, hoisting him up bodily and shoving him over beside Bwend. Fotel’s dark eyes squinted, then lost focus. He groaned, supporting his head in his hands.
“Let me kill them now, Majesty,” Caelan said.
“Wait,” she replied.
Bwend glanced up in hope, and slowly Fotel also raised his head.
“Tell me the truth,” Elandra said. “Swear on your blood-oath that you meant me no harm.”
Bwend didn’t hesitate. He held out his hand to Caelan, palm up. His gaze never left Elandra’s, not even when Caelan sliced open his palm. Bright blood welled up in the cup of his hand. “I swear I meant no harm to your Majesty. I gave loyal service to the emperor while he lived. I would give loyal service again.”
Tears welled up in Elandra’s eyes. No longer playacting, she gently placed her gloved hand on the man’s head. “I will accept your oath and service. Your help, if you will give it, would do me great service now.”
Hope flashed in his face, swiftly masked. “Anything, Majesty.”
“Fly me and this man to Gialta,” she said.
Bwend looked surprised. “Gialta!”
He and Fotel exchanged looks. Suspicious again, Caelan edged closer to Elandra and gestured for her to move back.
She did not. Her face was very stern. “How swiftly your oath is forgotten.”
“Nay, Majesty,” Bwend said quickly, bowing his head. “I do not refuse. It is only that Gialta is far from here. Very far. There is trouble—”
“What kind of trouble?” she demanded.
“We have heard rumors only. But they are all of Madruns—”
“Madruns in Gialta?” Elandra said, anger rising through her voice.
Caelan took over the questioning now. “What have you heard?”
“That is all,” the Thyzarene said.
Caelan frowned, not believing him. “Do these Madruns come from over the border? Or are they leaving Imperia?”
“The new emperor has driven them from Imperia. They flee into Gialta—”
Elandra clenched her fists. “New emperor be damned! That traitor! I would like to see him gutted and left hanging for the vultures to peck!”
Enraged, she paced away. Both Thyzarenes stared after her with new respect.
“Truly a lady of warrior blood,” Bwend said cautiously to Caelan.
He nodded. “Her father is Gihaud Albain of Gialta.”
Fotel looked blank, but Bwend obviously recognized the name. “A ferocious warrior. Very rich.”
“Yes. A man generous to those who help his daughter.”
“I will fly her there,” Fotel said, his eyes gleaming with avarice.
Bwend’s elbow rammed into his ribs. “Nay, dog. My Nia will have the honor. She knows the softest wind currents, how to be gentle in the clouds. Your Basha is but half-trained and bad-tempered besides.”
Basha roared and grumbled as though understanding every word. Across the clearing, Nia raised her head and trumpeted with a proud beating of her wings.
“Basha is hurt,” Fotel said. “Let me tend him.”
Caelan sheathed his sword and stepped back. As Fotel climbed to his feet, however, Caelan gripped him by the front of his tunic and lifted him onto his toes.
“Remember how I struck you without touch and laid you on the ground,” he said through his teeth, glaring at the man. “Remember I can do it again. There will be no tricks from you. Do you understand?”
Bwend also rose to his feet to intercede. “I gave my blood-oath to her Majesty, Traulander.”
“Fotel gave no oath.”
“He is in my service. My oath binds him.”
Caelan met Bwend’s eyes and wondered just how far he could trust the man’s word, especially once they were high in the clouds.
“It had better,” he said, and released Fotel with a shove.
Fotel frowned up at him. “Are you of Neika blood?”
Before Caelan could answer this astonishing question, Bwend elbowed Fotel aside.
“Fool!” he said sharply. “The Neika do not fight.”
“Neither do Traulanders.”
Caelan looked down at them, and felt suddenly foreign in this land that had once been his. “I am Choven,