Oh, Caelun. You misguided little guard. :D You'll see what I mean ... he's one of those guys who'll argue his heart out but never quite understand *what* he's arguing about.
Yes, it's short. :P
~*~
Daeun awoke with a start, his throat aching, his eyes burning as if he had been staring directly at the sun for hours on end. He groaned, his every muscle aching, and winced when the appearance of a pair of golden eyes made him jump. “Daeun,” Ianna murmured, touching his face. “You are alive.”
“Barely,” Daeun coughed, giving her a rueful smile. She did not smile back. “It was from the Goddess.”
“The Goddess,” Ianna repeated, eyes still a very bright gold. “You mean the ancestors.”
He opened his mouth to contradict her, then nodded. “Yes, the ancestors,” Daeun said, mildly amused by this. “She … likes you very much, Ianna.”
She either did not hear his informality, or did not care. “You laid there for many hours, with only a heartbeat speak for you. How was I to know if you would awake?”
He stared at her, suddenly realizing that—somehow—she’d been worried about him. A faint smile crossed his face, and he kissed her, lightly, on the lips. “I did not mean to scare you,” he said softly, and laughed at the anger that flashed in her eyes at the accusation. “Though of course you know no fear, dinsatas.”
She froze above him. “What did you call me?”
His blue eyes clouded, brow drawn together in confusion. “I’m … not sure.” He looked up at her. “Do you know what it means?”
“It means,” Ianna said huskily, “ ‘My Queen’ in the ancient tongue.”
“How delightful,” Daeun murmured in return.
Caelun heard the voices within the room, and spent the space of a moment breathing a sigh of relief that the young lord was not dead. An hour ago Ianna had flung open the door, eyes a startling gold, and had commanded that someone fetch the tailor, immediately, before she slit someone’s throat. When she could not recall the tailor’s name, she slammed the door in their faces, but they had not missed the prostrate form of Lord Genor on the floor, for all appearances dead.
When the sounds ceased, he moved away, flopping down onto a stool some feet from the door. If he was needed, he would be at hand, but for now he would give them their space. The bedchamber was no place for a loyal guard to be lurking.
“He’s alive, then?” Fraon asked, bored. He was playing dice with Caron and Taejon, and losing, for Taejon was using his magics.
“Plenty alive,” Caelun said bluntly, and the other men chuckled.
“Wonder what kept him, then,” Caron mused aloud.
“That paper, in his pocket,” Taejon said, as he tossed the dice and ended up—once again—with twin suns. “It was black and shown brightly with magic. No doubt that is what caused him to faint.”
“It wasn’t a faint, boy,” Caelun said, though he was hardly older than Taejon. “He was dead. Or nearly, anyway.”
At the base of the stairs, the innkeeper appeared, drying his hands on a towel. “You all going to get a room or what?”
“This one’s taken,” Caelun said in a tone less than respectful, jerking a thumb towards the shut door. “Lord Genor’s in it.”
“And he’s welcome to it,” the innkeeper replied flatly. “But what about you?”
“I’m the personal guard of who he’s with, Talon,” Caelun snapped angrily. “Down there’s my men. We’ve orders to kill anyone who tries to open the door. So I’m not sure what you mean.”
The innkeeper gave him a sour look but left, and Caelun shut his eyes. “Set up a shout if anyone comes up the stairs,” he sighed, and went to sleep.
.
