Shadow War - Deborah Chester [112]
Albain chuckled a moment, then sobered. “Be careful, girl. He makes a bad enemy.”
“I know. He advises me to choose among my guardsmen, but they have not proven themselves yet. How can I test the one who will best serve me?”
“You are the daughter of a warrior, and the granddaughter of a warrior,” Albain said gravely. “Your mother’s house is very fierce. Listen to what sings in your blood, Elandra. Put your trust in your lineage, in the courage and good sense we have bequeathed you. Don’t listen to the whispers of men. Listen inside.”
She bit her lip and nodded, wishing he could tell her something more tangible. Instinct and guesswork were not always the most reassuring qualities to depend on.
Albain gave her cold hand a squeeze. “By Gault, you have confounded the world already. My girl an empress in her own right. My girl on the throne.” He broke out in an unsuppressible chuckle, wheezing a little. “By Gault, I used to think myself poorly favored, with two girls and no sons, but now ... Ha, ha! Show them what you’re made of. Show them, Elandra! Let your mother’s fire blaze forth. Do what you damned well please, and don’t stand aside for any of them.”
She wanted to. With all her heart she longed to seize the world with both hands and make it her own. Yet she was so afraid of making a mistake.
It was like standing on the brink of a cliff. If she spread out her hands and believed in herself, she could soar like an eagle. If she clung to herself in doubt and worry, she would plummet like a stone.
“I will tell you this, and then I must go,” he said, bending close to her ear. “The best course to confound the intriguers is to hew to your own truth. Do what they least expect and never back down. Remember you have the upper hand. And for the sake of Gault, do not offend the emperor. He has promised me extra lands on my western boundary.”
She could have snapped in frustration. What good was his advice when he contradicted himself? Do as she pleased but don’t offend the emperor? Still, what had she expected? His advice was better than anything else she’d been told.
“Will you send me your armies should I ever need them?” she asked in a very quiet voice.
Albain froze. His one good eye narrowed, and his jovial mood vanished. For an instant he was like a hawk sighting prey, still and dangerous.
“I swore an oath to you today. What more do you seek?”
“The oath was sworn to the throne,” she replied, taut with nervousness at what she was daring to ask. “I ask you now for more than that.”
“You mean when the cloud descends and you and the prince will fight for what’s left of the empire?”
“Yes,” she said.
Her senses seemed to heighten. She heard the music, glimpsed the dancing and laughter, but her being remained focused on him and his answer. Time came to a halt around her, and she almost ceased to breathe. She must have one piece of solid ground, one true assurance to count on for insurance against what might possibly come in the future. Even if it was only refuge.
Albain drew in a deep breath and glanced around slowly and openly to make sure they were out of earshot. He put his back to the company so that no one could read his lips.
“Elandra,” he said in a quiet voice, “if ever you have need, I will unleash my armies and rend the empire from one end to the other. Merely send me word, and my sword arm is yours till death.”
Chapter Fifteen
A dash of cold water in his face brought Caelan back to consciousness.
Suppressing a groan, he slitted open one eye and found that nothing had changed. He was still hanging by his shackled wrists from a hook, his feet swinging above the floor. His dripping hair hung in his eyes. He was naked to the waist and freezing cold. His amulet pouch still hung safely around his neck, untouched in this dungeon hell where only superstition received respect.
The blurred face of his torturer peered up at him, a pale orb of flesh with merciless eyes bobbing above a brown leather jerkin stained with dried blood and grime.
“Man ready speak some?” the torturer asked.