Shadow War - Deborah Chester [81]
“Sit there,” Agel said, pointing at the stool.
Caelan obeyed and Agel took a small vial from his pouch. He handed it to Caelan.
“Drink this,” he ordered.
Caelan sniffed it but detected nothing repulsive. “What is it?”
“Who is the healer here?” Agel said, as prickly as ever. Then he smiled. “A restorative, you idiot. Drink it, and you will feel strong enough to eat the meal I have sent for.”
Caelan swallowed the liquid in a swift gulp. It had no bitter aftertaste. Relieved, he handed over the empty vial.
“Thank you for waiting,” he said. “I got nowhere with the woman.”
“Can’t you speak of her respectfully?” Agel said with irritation. “You are fortunate to still have your tongue. She was too lenient with you.”
“Oh, come, I know she isn’t the real empress, but only a handmaid,” Caelan replied. “Enough pretense. I must have your help, if only to—”
An involuntary shudder passed through him. He broke off his sentence and passed his hand across his brow. It felt clammy.
Agel stepped closer to him, staring down at him as though from a very great height.
Alarmed, Caelan wondered why Agel was suddenly so tall and he was suddenly so very short, so very tiny, shrinking and shrinking, until he was only a speck, and then nothing at all.
When he awakened, he was lying on a braided run in the antechamber of Prince Tirhin’s personal suite of rooms. Puzzled, Caelan took a while to sort through it. He did not understand what he was doing here, or why he was lying on the floor.
When he tried to sit up, every muscle in his body protested with a level of soreness that made him groan.
At once Agel appeared in the doorway that led to the bedchamber. “So you’re finally awake,” he said coldly. “It’s about time. Get up and come in here.”
Caelan opened his mouth to ask questions, but Agel had already vanished.
Frowning, Caelan slowly sat up, finding his wits by slow degrees, then levered himself to his feet. He had slept deeply, but he still felt muddled and groggy. A glance at the small window told him night had fallen outside, but how many hours had passed? And how did he come to be back here in the prince’s house?
Memories sifted back to him in pieces. He realized he had been drugged.
Agel’s meddling angered him, but he wasn’t ready to face the implications yet.
Limping with one hand pressed to his aching side, Caelan went first to the door that led outside. It was locked, and he could not budge the latch. Grimly he turned around and walked to the bedchamber.
He paused in the doorway, looking inside.
A single lamp burned near the bed, leaving most of the room in shadow.
Within the circle of light, the prince lay beneath a blanket, asleep or unconscious Caelan did not know. His face had a waxy sheen, far too pale. Agel stood beside him, holding the prince’s wrist in his long fingers.
Disappointed and worried, Caelan drew in a sharp breath and walked on into the room.
Agel released his grip on Tirhin’s wrist and turned to face Caelan.
“Is he better?” Caelan asked.
“Not much,” Agel said bluntly. “His physical hurts are minor. Those I have dealt with. But it is his reason that concerns me.”
Caelan frowned at the man who was now his master in name only. “Yes,” he said very softly.
Agel’s gaze narrowed. “It is time that you told me exactly what happened. I can do nothing if I do not have information.”
Caelan’s frown deepened. “Why did you bring me back here to him? Why drug me? What is your intention?”
“It should be obvious,” Agel said coldly. “You are intent on self-destruction, as usual. But this time I will stop you.”
“Why?”
“Because we are kinsmen,” Agel said sharply. “What happens to you will affect me. If you betray this great man who is your master, will I not also be looked on with suspicion? Treachery is said to run in families.”
Caelan stared at him in amazement tinged with disgust. “You are thinking only of yourself.”
“I am being prudent.”
“You hypocrite—”
Agel lifted his hand. “I will not argue further with you. You are the property of his