Realm of Light (24 page)

A cloak lined in
fur hung from his broad shoulders, and he had acquired a sword from someplace.
The scabbard tip showed just below the hem of his cloak.

For a moment she
couldn’t believe he was there. She froze, unable to breathe or look away,
waiting for him to notice her.

When he glanced up
and saw her standing there, several emotions chased across his face. He started
to smile, then frowned instead. He came running across the clearing and scooped
her off her feet.

“Caelan!” she said
in surprise. “Put me down.”

He was scowling as
he carried her back toward the cave. “You mustn’t be outside. It isn’t safe.”

“Put me down.
Caelan, stop!”

“It’s for your own
safety. The cave is a place of sanctuary. It will keep the—”

“I no longer have
the poison within me.”

He stopped in his
tracks and stared at her, puzzlement filling his eyes. “How can this be?”

“It’s gone.”

“Are you saying it
faded away? I don’t believe it.”

“No, I am not
saying that. The Magria took it from me.”

He blinked. “The
Magria?”

“The leader of the
Penestricans. Don’t say you’ve never heard of her.”

“But where is
she?” he asked, looking around. “How—”

“Never mind how,”
Elandra said impatiently. His arms still held her effortlessly, and her heart
was thudding too fast. She had never felt like this before—other than in her
dreams. She felt fire in her cheeks, and pushed free of his embrace. Not until
her feet were firmly on the ground did she dare trust her voice again.

“I am free, do you
understand? Aren’t you pleased?”

“Yes, of course.
I’m pleased, very pleased.” He found a smile for her, but it didn’t last long.
He seemed restless, jumpy. He looked guilty, almost disappointed.

Frowning, she
glared at him with disappointment of her own.

Men were brutes,
every one of them. They had all the wit and understanding of a sack of flour.

She had thought he
would be joyful. She expected him to sweep her into his powerful arms and kiss
her. Instead he stood here, looking as though he had been caught doing
something he shouldn’t, and he did nothing.

Right then, she
almost hated him. Why couldn’t he look into her eyes and know that her heart
had softened? She would rather be strangled than bend her pride enough to tell him
so. If he couldn’t tell, then he didn’t care. She had misled herself. She was a
fool.

“The emperor is
dead,” she blurted out.

Caelan stared at
her, and she could have bitten her own tongue. Her face was aflame, and she
felt as though she’d been dipped in burning oil.

That wasn’t what
she had meant to say, but now it was said, and he did need to know.

Only she wasn’t
ready for the ambition to come surging back into his gaze. She wasn’t ready to
see him square his shoulders and lift his head like a eagle. She had wanted a
few more minutes of his attention, but already he was gazing into the distance,
the wheels of his mind turning rapidly.

“How do you know
this?” he asked.

“I was told by the
Magria.”

Again he frowned.
“Why did she come here? How—”

“To rescue me,”
Elandra said, frowning back. “I told you that, Caelan E’non. Don’t you care?”

“My name is not
E’non,” he interrupted sharply, a new tone in his voice that she hadn’t heard
before. “I will not wear that name. Better I go nameless, like a bastard, than
carry that.”

Her face went hot
from an emotion other than passion, and she stepped away from him as though
burned.

He stared at her
with his brows raised. Then sudden comprehension dawned in his eyes. “Forgive
me. I meant no slur against you.”

“Don’t apologize,”
she said bitterly. “The facts of my birth are well known.”

Consternation
filled his face. He reached out to her, but she backed away. Her back was
rigid; her hands were clenched at her sides.

“Please,” he said.
“Don’t be angry at me. I spoke without thinking. The things I learned today
about my own parentage ... no matter. I have no right to take my anger out on
you. Truly, I am glad that you have been healed.”

She stared at him,
her eyes widening. “Are you saying your father isn’t—that you aren’t—”

Caelan’s jaw
clenched hard.

“I’m sorry,” she
said swiftly, trying to retreat. “I should not ask something so personal.”

A wry expression
crossed his face, and he gave her a twisted little smile. “At least your
parents are human,” he said bitterly. “At least your father could sire you
without having to be enspelled. It seems I am something the Choven created in
order to save the world.”

Elandra’s mouth
fell open in astonishment. “The Choven!”

“Choven made, just
like this sword,” he said, touching the hilt with his fingertips.

“But you are
human.”

He shrugged. “I
don’t know what I am. I am not sure they know. If they do, they will not say.”

“But—”

“At least it
answers my questions about how I can do the things that I do.”

She did not like
the bleak tone in his voice. She did not like the way his face shut her out.

“Don’t turn to
granite, the way you do sometimes. Don’t pretend it doesn’t matter, when
clearly it does. We have shared, remember?”

He didn’t look at
her. “That was before.”

“And now?” she insisted,
tugging at his sleeve to make him look at her. “Has your lust cooled already?”

Her bold question
turned his face scarlet. He would not meet her eyes. “We should never have
shared. Had I known—”

“What is different
now from before?” she demanded. “You have learned truths you do not like. Are
you the only one? Is it easy to stand isolated and detached from everyone? Is
it better to hurt others before they hurt you? You shared yourself with me. We
can’t ignore that, or forget it happened. Or can we? How could you do such a
thing to me?”

“I didn’t mean—”
His face contorted, and he turned away. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me
understand. Don’t shut me away from the truth.”

His eyes met hers
then, and they were filled with torment. “I have been told my future,” he said
hoarsely. “I am afraid of it.”

Her anger faded to
compassion. She reached up to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and pressed
his lips to it.

“I thought you
didn’t care—wouldn’t care,” he whispered. “You said—”

“I know what I
said,” she replied breathlessly. “I was a fool. But now I am free. I can admit
what fills my heart.”

He released her
hand abruptly and stepped back. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t—”

“Not human,” he
said bleakly, staring across the clearing at nothing. “Not anything—”

“Stop it!” she
shouted. “This whining self-pity is not like you. What has unmanned you so?”

He shook his head,
looking ashamed.

“Is your destiny
worse than mine? Have you suffered more than I? Take hold of your blessings,
not your regrets. Are we not alive? And together? Is that not a place to begin
anew?”

He bowed his head.
“Yes, you are right. But I have less than before to offer you.”

“Do you think I
care?”

There it was, her
declaration thrown out in the open. She felt bolder than brass, afraid, but
exhilarated too.

Caelan lifted his
head and met her eyes. At once she felt as though she had been dipped in
boiling water. She couldn’t breathe properly. Her thoughts were spinning.

Somehow she
managed to continue her argument, although his eyes and hers seemed to be
speaking in a language of their own. “Name one blessing given to you,” Elandra
said sternly. “I have been saved from the darkness. That is one blessing for
me. What about you?”

He swallowed, and
she grew weak from watching the movement in his throat.

“Lea is alive,” he
said hoarsely.

Astonishment
filled Elandra, momentarily distracting her. “Alive! How is this possible? You
said—”

“I know. I found
her here.” He bit his lip and seemed to struggle for words. “There is too much
to explain. But she is well and safe. The Choven have cared for her all these
years.”

“The Choven
again,” Elandra said in wonder. “It is surely a miracle. Caelan, how wonderful.
Where is she? May I meet her?”

He glanced at the
snowcapped mountains towering above the forest. “She’s up there.”

“I want to meet
her. Why didn’t you bring her to me?”

His face clouded,
and he shook his head. “It is not that simple.”

More secrets. She
crossed her arms impatiently. “Why not? Caelan, you really don’t understand
anything, do you?”

“No, I really
don’t,” he retorted with equal heat. “I don’t understand how my sister can live
half in and half out of the spirit-world without being a spirit herself. I
don’t understand why she prefers the Choven and their ways to everyone else. I
don’t understand how she could reach into the realm of shadow with her will and
bring us here to her the moment we stepped through the Gate of Sorrows. Do you
understand? If you do, please explain it to me.”

“Caelan—”

He strode away
from her, head down, moving blind and fast.

Elandra hurried
after him. “Wait. Caelan, I’m sorry. We are both too angry. We’re hurting each
other without meaning to. Please stop, and let us try again.”

He halted, but
kept his back to her. “What is there to try?” he asked wearily.

She frowned, feeling
all sorts of emotions tangled inside her. Why did it have to be so hard? Why
was he so hostile, so ready to turn away from her now that she at last wanted
to turn to him?

“Perhaps we can
try to be friends,” she said cautiously.

He snorted and
swung around. “Friends?” he said.

She suddenly felt
like a fool.

“I have a long
journey,” he said, scowling at the ground. “I had best get started.”

Alarmed, she
stared at him. Already she saw farewell in his eyes. Her heart turned to stone.

“And me?” she
asked quietly. “Will you leave me behind, as once you left your sister?”

Pain flashed
through his face. “That is not fair.”

“You are not
fair!” she retorted. “Why are you hurting me like this? What have I done, to
make you turn against me?”

“Elandra,” he said
bleakly, “I face a task you cannot share. Here.” He drew his sword and held it
out to her, hilt first. “Take it. Hold it a moment.”

“No,” she said.

“Take it. Swing
it. Show me your technique.”

Her eyes were
stinging. “Cruelty doesn’t become you.”

He slid the sword
back into its scabbard. “Enough of this foolishness. You cannot ride into war.
No matter how much you care about the throne, you—”

“You need me,” she
insisted. “I have as much right to go as you.”

“And what will you
do? Fight?”

“You’ll get no
troops without me,” she said angrily. “You can’t raise an army on your own, and
you know it. Besides, I don’t have to ride into battle. I can stay out of
harm’s way.”

“You will be safer
here with my sister and the Choven.”

“Will I?” she
snapped. “What do you know about it? Has my future been revealed to you? Do you
know what my destiny is? Do you?”

“I am supposed to
break the world!” he shouted. “Is that an ordinary battle? Is that any place
for you to be? I don’t expect to come back. At least give me the consolation of
knowing you’re safe.”

“Safe?” she
echoed. “This isn’t about staying safe. We weren’t intended to fold our hands
and hide from events, neither of us. If you are to break the world, I am to
reap its tears. What have you to say to that? Does that sound like I am to stay
home and spin wool?”

They glared at
each other, breathing hard, both furious, and then she realized how ridiculous
it was to be standing in a snow-filled ditch, nose to nose and yelling about
their destinies like two children trying to outdo each other with boasts.

She snorted,
trembling, and pressed her hands to her lips.

A corner of his
mouth twitched.

They stepped back
from each other, breathing hard in the silence. Then their eyes met, and they
smiled at the same time.

Elandra drew a swift
breath that became laughter. “How silly we are. What are we arguing about?”

He beat on his
chest and struck a foolish pose. “I shall conquer the world.”

She imitated him.
“And I shall do it better!”

They laughed
harder; then he reached out, and she ran to his arms. She wanted to go on
laughing forever like this with him, yet she felt close to tears also, for how
near they had come to ruining everything. Relief spread over her, and she clung
more tightly to him.

“We are fools,” he
said, kissing her hair. “We would fight about the air if it served our
purpose.”

She felt suddenly
as though she could not breathe. This was the moment. It felt as though time
had stopped around them. “Caelan,” she said very softly, refusing to look up
into his eyes in case he refused her. “It grows late, too late to travel.
Traulanders are afraid of the dark—”

“We are
not
afraid of the dark,” he corrected her with mock sternness. “We are afraid of
wind spirits. That is only sensible.”

“Then the wind is
certainly brisk,” she said shyly. “It is cold and late. Soon it will be dark.
Let us go to the cave together.”

He said nothing,
and her heart fell to her slippers. She dared peek up at him and saw him
frowning, saw the battle of hope, disbelief, and acute longing in his face. That
gave her courage.

Reaching up, she
caressed his cheek with her hand. “Let us go to the cave,” she said, her voice
low and throaty. “Let us have tonight before we face our future.”