Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [94]
Nia grumbled, clearly not having forgotten that Elandra had mesmerized her. Carefully Elandra reached up and scratched under the dragon’s chin as she had seen Bwend do.
The dragon snorted in surprise, then stretched out her chin for more, half closing her eyes.
Bwend, looking jealous, spoke sharply, and the dragon drew back her head. She roared, sending men stumbling back, and beat her wings in a strong flurry. Her body lifted until her wings found the wind currents. Then she soared. She and Basha circled overhead once more, then flew away.
Elandra watched them go until Caelan’s tug on her hand brought her attention back to earth.
She found herself facing the stern visage of General Alud Handar. There was no recognition in his eyes. His gaze swept over Caelan’s imperial armor and sword, then returned to Elandra.
He had never seen her unveiled. And while the money-loving Thyzarenes recognized her from her coinage portrait, Handar clearly did not. She realized her hair was unbound and wild. Her gown was creased and stained from travel. Moreover, she was roasting in her wool cloak and probably stank like dragon.
But to be taken for a lady meant one had to act like a lady. To show doubt and hesitation was to awaken it in others.
“Greetings, General Handar,” she said regally, as though dropping unexpectedly from the sky on the back of a barbarian looter’s dragon was an ordinary occurrence. “It is good to see you again.”
He bowed slightly, his frown deepening. “My lady.”
“You will forgive my haste,” she said. “I will present you formally to Lord Caelan later. We must speak to Lord Albain without delay.”
“That is not possible.”
She tightened her lips with frustration. She should have known her father would be away. “This is most disconcerting.”
“I’m sure it is,” Handar said. His tone was ironic.
She knew she had to curb that immediately.
Before she could speak, however, he was gesturing to his right. “If you will accompany me this way—”
“I shall not,” she snapped. “If you do not recognize the daughter of your own lord and master, then I am sure one of the courtiers who witnessed my coronation will.”
Handar’s mouth fell open. Comprehension filled his eyes, and he turned pale. “Majesty!”
She lifted her chin. “Will I be kept in the courtyard forever, General, or may I enter my father’s house?”
“Of course.” He glared at an officer, who whirled around and barked out a series of commands.
The soldiers suddenly cleared a path toward the steps, facing it on either side and standing at attention.
Handar bowed low, humiliation written plainly across his face. “My deepest apologies, Majesty. I—”
He had been kind to her once, when she was only a frightened, baseborn daughter of the household, on her way to a new life. She had not forgotten, but the lesson had to be taught. She had learned that from Kostimon.
“Why is the imperial banner not flying?” she asked, cutting across his apologies. “Where is my father? When will he return? Has he gone to hold a war council?”
“No, Majesty,” Handar replied, and there was a stricken note in his voice that caught her attention. “I am afraid there is no war council being held.”
“What do you mean? What are you saying? Explain.” But already she guessed something was very wrong. She stared at the man, and her head suddenly felt as though it were being crushed. She could not breathe. “Do not tell me he is dead,” she said, horrified by her own words.
Caelan’s arm went around her, steadying her as she swayed, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were focused only on Handar’s face.
Her lips felt frozen. “Is Albain dead?”
Handar lowered his gaze from hers. “No, Majesty, not yet. But he is dying.”
Chapter Seventeen
The steps stretched upward in endless progression, as though to the sky itself. Halfway up, Elandra began to tremble, and she thought her legs would fail her.
“No,” she whispered, unable to believe it. “No!”
Caelan looked down at her in sympathy,