Shadow War - Deborah Chester [29]
“Why did you have to stop being human? Why can’t you be a healer and still care?”
“I care that you have undone my work,” Agel said. “Has the pain returned?”
Agony throbbed in Caelan’s side. He frowned, certain he would rather die than let Agel near him again.
“Lie down,” Agel told him. “We must begin again.”
Caelan shook his head. “Please,” he said. “Please be the Agel I once knew.”
“Let the past lie where it is,” Agel said. “I live in the present. My task is to tend your hurts.”
“I can tend my own hurts,” Caelan retorted. “I—”
Pain covered him in a sheet of grayness. He sagged against the bedpost, robbed of breath and sense for a moment.
When he regained awareness, he found Agel gripping his elbow and steering him back to bed. Caelan did not want him, but had nothing left with which to drive his cousin away. He found himself suddenly spent by his emotions.
Agel was gentle and ministering, but the icy barrier remained between them. Caelan let Agel work, but nothing could heal the wound inside. For all his principles regarding peace and tranquility, Agel had inflicted the harshest blow. No mere stab would could surpass it.
It was as though his father had come to life again. If pride had not choked him so, Caelan would have wept.
Chapter Five
At twilight the summons came, brought by a timid servant who also carried new clothing and bathing water. Thankful at last for something to do, Caelan put on the finery. Admiring his reflection in the looking glass, he smoothed the tunic of pale brown silk. It fit him perfectly. Tirhin's coat of arms was embroidered on the left sleeve; otherwise, Caelan might have passed for a courtier. He sleeked back his blond hair into a neat braid and spent a moment fingering his amulet bag concealed at his throat.
He desperately needed consolation, and he sent a little prayer to the memory of his dead sister Lea to help him find some inner peace. She had been little and sweet, her wealth of golden curls as bright as sunshine, her heart pure goodness. He still grieved for her, more than for any of the others. After his encounter with Agel today, Caelan missed her even more intensely.
And Orlo still had not returned, not even to check on his health. It was possible the trainer would not come back at all. He was a free man, and if he chose to leave the prince’s service, he could. Caelan sighed. He did not even know what terms he stood on with the prince at present. He had sent word to his master that he was well enough to resume his duties of attendance. His highness had not replied, other than to give him this curt summons.
There came a soft tapping on the door. “It is time,” the servant said.
Anxious not to keep the prince waiting, Caelan gathered up his cloak and hurried out. The hours of rest following Agel’s departure had done wonders. Caelan felt physically strong and complete once more. His side gave him no more than an occasional twinge, provided he did not overexert himself. Yet despite that, he felt grim and old inside. He tried telling himself that depression was useless and that he must not let these people affect him so profoundly, yet it was hard to feel positive when his emotions had been ruthlessly pounded. He kept asking himself if he could have done better, if he could have done differently. Would it have mattered?
The sun was melting into a golden stain on the horizon as he emerged through the main entry of the prince’s house, descended a flight of grand steps flanked by life-sized stone dragons, and halted under the portico. Grooms stood nearby with saddled horses. Caelan counted them, recognizing coats of arms on many of the saddle cloths. The prince and his entourage had not yet appeared.
Catching his breath, Caelan was glad to be here ahead of his master. He swore to himself that Tirhin would find no fault with him tonight.
Caelan gazed out toward the sunset and inhaled the fragrant air. Prince Tirhin’s house was a miniature palace, and the gardens around it had been expertly designed to please the senses. Normally had Caelan found himself standing