Realm of Light: Ruby Throne - Book Three by Deborah Chester

Author:Deborah Chester
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The steps stretched upward in endless progression, as though to the sky itself. Halfway up, Elandra began to tremble, and she thought her legs would fail her.

“No,” she whispered, unable to believe it. “No!”

Caelan looked down at her in sympathy, and frowned a warning.

She understood at once and knew she could not submit publicly to her grief, but inside she felt as though she were being torn apart. She had not grieved for Kostimon, who in many ways had been more a father figure to her than her own. But Albain had been the first man she had ever loved. All her life she had looked up to him, admired him, craved his affection. She would have done anything for him. Just a glance or a quick pat on her head when she was a child had sustained her for weeks.

And now…now, when she needed him more than ever before, to hear he was dying seemed like a bad dream. She could not believe it, refused to believe it.

Handar escorted them into the palace, murmuring about accidents and bad portents. There had been lightning and earthquakes, he said. The river had flooded its banks, and one of the stable walls had fallen. Lord Albain had been crushed by a panicking elephant while he tried to help his men restore order.

Caelan never loosened his grip on Elandra’s hand. She could feel the reassurance he sent her even as he pinned his gaze on the general.

“And are there no healers to attend him?” he asked.

“Indeed, yes,” Handar replied. “Our physicians say he is injured inside.”

Caelan frowned. “The slow bleeding?”

“It is as they say.”

Elandra looked up at Caelan in hope. He was a healer’s son. He understood what this meant.

His blue eyes darkened with compassion, and he gave her a small shake of his head.

Her mouth opened, but she didn’t cry out. She had no breath to do so. The world swam before her eyes, but Caelan would not let her faint.

“Keep walking,” he said softly. “Hold your head high.”

She obeyed him, her eyes stinging with tears she would not shed. They found the vast entry hall full of courtiers and the curious, most of whom had gathered to watch her arrival. The women were veiled and gowned elegantly. The men wore gilded mail and silk surcoats heavily embroidered in gold and silver. She recognized coats of arms from across the entire province. Jinjas flitted here and there, peeking out from behind their owners, sharp teeth bared in curiosity, pointed ears twitching in response to the general air of suppressed excitement.

A part of her understood that her strange arrival, without guards, without her ladies in waiting, without evidence of her wealth and power, all served to diminish her in these people’s eyes. These were the nobles and warlords, men she needed to impress, men who commanded armies she needed to call on. Yet she walked before them in mended clothes and unbound hair, lacking jewels, her face pale and ravaged.

The rest of her did not care if every opportunity was lost.

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