Shadow War - Deborah Chester [65]
“You fool!” he snarled. “You had courage once. Now you quail and quiver even before a woman—”
“She’s not just a woman,” Agel retorted, pulling free. “She is the empress!”
Caelan jerked back from him, and looked from the healer to her and back again in plain disbelief. Then his gaze returned to her, standing there haughty, angry, and unafraid. Consternation filled his face.
He went to one knee, bowing low, and said nothing.
The instant obeisance and humility in a man so fierce, so masculine, so rough absurdly pleased her. She hid that, however, and turned her gaze on the healer.
He looked as though he wished the floor would swallow him whole.
For her part, Elandra was busy thinking. The name Caelan sounded familiar to her. She had heard it before, in passing, perhaps from the guards or some of the servants. A wager ... ah, that was it. He was a gladiator, the champion of the seasonal games. A participant in a hideous, bloodthirsty sport she was not permitted to view. He belonged to Prince Tirhin.
Both men were watching her. They read her face as she reached her conclusions, and they exchanged a swift glance of dismay. Caelan, unbidden, rose to his feet once more.
“I see,” she said coldly, putting it all together. She turned her gaze on Caelan. “You are known to me, by reputation and through my knowledge of your master. Tell me now, with no evasion, of what has occurred.”
He swallowed, his throat working convulsively, but he met her gaze steadily enough. “Forgive me, my lady, but I can speak only to the emperor.”
The refusal, mild though it was, was like a slap. She realized again that she had no real authority. Even a slave such as this—arena meat, her guards would call him—knew that.
“Mind your stupid tongue,” Agel said to him sharply. “You have done enough harm to yourself already without adding defiance to it.” He turned to Elandra with a bow.
“Your Majesty, I ask forgiveness on his behalf. My cousin is a coarse knave, untrained in—”
Caelan tipped back his head and laughed. Only then did the healer seem to realize what he had said. Looking confused and embarrassed, he broke off his sentence and stood there.
“Agel of the big mouth,” Caelan said, his face still alight with derision. “First you betrayed who I was, then you betrayed who she was, and now you have betrayed yourself. As an intriguer, you are hopeless.”
Agel pushed away from him in outrage. “I am not an intriguer!” he said vehemently, glancing at Elandra as though to see if she believed his denial.
She gazed at him with disgust. He had pretty manners for her, but question his authority even the slightest, or even thwart him, and he grew petty and arrogant. He was a toady, ready to flatter but equally quick to check everyone’s reaction before he committed himself to any opinion. If she ever acquired any influence at court, he would not rise far.
He stepped toward Elandra, his face filled with consternation. “I swear to you that I had no knowledge of these events. Our relationship is a coincidence. Whatever has occurred—”
“Yes, healer,” she said without interest in his continued denials. “Why don’t you confine yourself to your duties?”
“Yes, Majesty,” he said in visible relief. “If I may be permitted to excuse myself, I think I should go to his highness and attend him if he will receive me.”
She looked at this man, so eager to rush to the aid of the emperor’s son while remaining impervious to his own kinsman who stood here injured and pushed to the limits of his strength.
She could not resist saying “But the prince has not sent for you.”
Agel’s eager expression faltered.
Did he not realize the mistake he made before her? Suddenly she was weary of the man.
She made a gesture of dismissal. “Go. Do what you feel is necessary. Certainly the prince must stand in need of your skill at this time.”
The healer smiled. “Majesty, forgive my haste,” he said. “Is there any other way in which I can serve you?”
“No.”
“May I have leave to attend you later, Majesty?