Kushiel's Scion (21 page)
Although I had made peace with Mavros, his words made me restless.
In truth, the Shahrizai themselves made me restless. To their credit, they had been perfectly well-behaved during their time at Montrève. What I had expected, I cannot say—perhaps, in the recesses of my mind, I half feared there would be some rampant manifestation of orgiastic behavior, or at the least, that I would find Mavros doing somewhat unspeakable to a chambermaid in a dark stairwell.
But no; although they flirted and charmed, they kept their behavior within the bounds of propriety. And yet it was there. It was present in the careless sensuality with which they interacted with one another, in the sense of desire simmering beneath the skin, predatory and… well, patient. Even in young Baptiste, it was there.
To gain a respite from it, I went to visit Phèdre in her study, where I found her reading through a pile of correspondence. A courier had come from the City, bearing a packet of missives which had arrived for her there. I stood in the open doorway, watching her read, her face alight with pleasure.
"Imri." She noticed me and beckoned. "Come in, love."
"I won't trouble you?" I asked. I had not seen her much; I had been busy with my cousins, and I thought she was merely being generous in giving me leave to spend time with them. After Mavros' words… I was not so certain.
Phèdre smiled. "Never. Where are our guests?"
"Ti-Philippe and Hugues are escorting them to the village. Roshana had a fancy to see it." Entering the study, I seated myself on the floor beside her chair. "Who's the letter from?"
"Nicola L'Envers," she said. "She's coming to the City to spend the winter at Court this year, with her younger son Raul."
I made a noncommittal sound. I knew the name well enough; she was a kinswoman of the Queen on her mother's side. She was wed to an Aragonian nobleman, and her influence there had been instrumental in aiding Phèdre and Joscelin in tracking down the Carthaginian slavers who had kidnapped me. I also knew she had been one of Phedre's favorite patrons.
"What is it?" Phèdre stroked my hair with cool fingers. "Trouble with the Shahrizai?"
"No." I leaned against her chair and closed my eyes. For a moment, I could pretend I was a child again. After Daršanga, I used to wish Phèdre was my mother, but I always knew it was impossible. She wasn't. She had saved my life, and I would lay my own down for hers in a heartbeat, but she was not my mother.
"What, then?"
Reluctantly, I raised my head and met her gaze. Her eyes were dark and lustrous, the scarlet mote vivid against the iris. A slight line of concern was etched between her winged brows; otherwise, her skin was creamy and flawless. In Terre d'Ange, one would say Phèdre was in the full summer of her beauty—past spring's fresh charms, not yet touched by the sere frost of autumn.
"Nothing," I said. "I've missed you, that's all." I hesitated. "Have you been avoiding the lot of us?"
"A little bit." Her face held a look of candor. "I thought it would be easier for you."
Mavros' words haunted me. I wonder and wonder. I looked away. "Why? Do you… think about them?"
"Your cousins?" Phèdre sounded surprised. "Not at their age!" She laughed. "I do have some measure of self-control, you know."
"Mavros is seventeen," I said.
"Yes, with a head full of a seventeen-year-old's thoughts, and a belly full of a seventeen-year-old's desires." She touched my cheek. "I know. He cannot help it, and the others are not far behind him. That's why I thought it would be easier this way."
"It scares me," I murmured. "I don't want… I don't want things to change."
"Ah, love. Life is full of change. Not all of it is bad." Phèdre tugged a lock of my hair, making me look at her once more. "Imriel no Montrève, you have a heart as true as an arrow's flight, and courage enough for ten. Whatever manner of man you will become, it will be a worthy and good one. Believe me, love, there is nothing in you that you need fear."
"There is, though," I whispered. "No." She shook her head. "Only shadows." "How can you be so sure?" I said.
Phèdre raised her brows. "You question the word of one who knows the Name of God?"
It made me laugh, as she intended. We did not jest about such matters; indeed, we seldom spoke of them, for they ran too deep for speech. But today, somehow, it was needful and right, reminding me of what we had shared together.
Rising, I stooped to kiss her cheek. "Thank you." Nothing had changed; and yet I felt better. I went to the kennels and spent time talking with Arms Labbé. He had helped me choose the pick of the spring's litter for Alais, a bitch-pup with lively brown eyes and a curious disposition. We discussed the finer points of training dogs. It pleased me to think of the wolfhound pup at Court, where lap-dogs were the order of the day. When this one was full-grown, she would stand nearly shoulder-height to Alais. I had brought an old chemise of Alais' with me, that the pup might get to know her scent.
Afterward, I sought out Joscelin and asked him to spar with me, which he did willingly.
I didn't bother to ask if he had been avoiding us; I knew full well that he had. If danger threatened, he would honor his vow. He was Phèdre's consort and the Queen's Champion; he would protect and serve. But so long as it did not, he would absent himself insofar as courtesy allowed. Out of consideration to me, he didn't flaunt his antipathy to the Shahrizai; yet he couldn't altogether hide it, either.
We had a good bout, one that left me dripping with sweat. First with the wooden daggers, then with the swords. I was handier with the latter. Something about the singularity of the weapon appealed to me. It cleared my mind, and I could perceive more acutely the spheres of defense and opposition in which we moved, back and forth, to and fro.
Somewhere in the middle of the bout, I heard the sound of the Shahrizai party returning. They were in high spirits. There was laughter and chatter, and I could hear Charles' and Katherine's voices among them. It gave me an unexpected pang of envy. I pushed it aside, focusing on my swordplay.
It worked, until Roshana and Katherine came into the garden to watch us.
I saw Joscelin's gaze flicker sideways, and missed a chance to attack him. I began to lower my wooden blade to greet the girls, and he pressed me harder, forcing me into a retreating defense. Anger stirred in me, and I fought back, circling around to get at his left side.
"You're right," Roshana whispered behind me. "He is quite good!"
That did it.
I put a foot wrong and missed a parry. Joscelin's blade battered it aside, sweeping inside my guard to score a gouge over my right eyebrow.
"Imri!" Katherine said in alarm.
Joscelin winced. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." I clapped one hand over the gouge and glared at him. "I'm fine."
"Let me see." He pried my hand away. "Ah, you will be, just wash it well." There was a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth. "Sorry, love." He turned, then, and gave his Cassiline bow. "Ladies."
I sat down on one of the stone benches. Katherine hurried to the well and drew a bucket, soaking a handkerchief, then set about dabbing my bleeding graze. Roshana watched Joscelin stride toward the manor house.
"He doesn't like us, does he?" she murmured.
"It's not your fault." I cleared my throat. Katherine was bending over me, the tops of her breasts swelling against the bodice of her gown.
I snatched the handkerchief from her, clamping it to my brow. "Here, I'll do it."
"I don't mind." She smiled at me.
My face grew hot. "Did you have a nice excursion?"
"We did." Roshana came alongside Katherine, laying a hand on her shoulder. "We were thinking, Imriel. Mayhap tomorrow we should take an excursion of our own, the three of us. The boys may not be tired of hunting, but I am. Katherine says there's a lake up in the mountains you promised to show her."
"We could take a picnic luncheon," Katherine added.
I stared at them, wondering if I looked as stupidly befuddled as I felt. "The three of us?"
Roshana smiled lazily. "Why not?"
My mouth worked, but no sound emerged. I swallowed hard. "All right."
"Good!" Katherine clapped her hands. Her grey-blue eyes sparkled, and her color was high. I wondered what in Elua's name they had discussed during their trip to the village, and decided I'd rather not know. "I'll take care of luncheon."
"All right," I repeated, pressing her kerchief to my bleeding head.
Definitely befuddled.
I slept poorly that night, lying awake, tossing on my sheets. It seemed to me a strange and remarkable thing that I could have survived what I have undergone, that I could have seen horrors and marvels, and still have my composure thoroughly undone by a pair of sixteen-year-old girls who had suggested nothing more daring than a picnic on the surface of the matter. It was the promise, the hint of somewhat more that undid me.
I wanted… ah, Elua! I wanted.
But with desire came the shadow. And mayhap Phèdre was right, there was nothing to fear from shadows. I believed it when I was with her. But she had gone into Daršanga of her own volition, a grown woman, already knowing what darkness she carried inside her, the terrible urgings of Kushiel's Dart. I had been a child. What had it done to me?
Mavros was right; I didn't know myself.
I wasn't sure I wanted to.
In time I slept. The day dawned fine and bright. I still felt muddle-headed. Katherine had undertaken all the arrangements with cheerful efficiency; the luncheon was packed, and our mounts were saddled and ready. Amid promises not to stray beyond Montrève's guarded border, we took our leave.
I led them along the prettiest route I knew, up the terraced slopes of the chestnut orchards, winding past the high pastures, where grazing sheep dotted the hillsides. I pointed out the new pasturage which Charles and I had helped clear.
"It's hard to believe you're the same age, Imri," Katherine observed, turning to Roshana. "He seems so much younger, doesn't he?"
"All younger brothers seem thus to their sisters," Roshana said pleasantly.
I eyed her. "Does Baptiste?"
"Well." Her smile brought out a dimple. "Yes, in his way."
My cousin was looking lovely that day. In truth, both of them were. Roshana wore a deep blue gown that brought out the hue of her eyes, her hair loose over her shoulders. It fell the way mine did, in blue-black waves. Katherine wore a pretty linen gown of golden yellow, that made one think of flowers blooming. She had a little coronet of braids, and in the sunlight her brown hair gleamed with honey-colored streaks.
A distant shepherd raised one hand in salute, and I waved back.
It was a long trek into the mountains. There were places where we had to ride in single file, our mounts picking their way with care amid the scattered boulders. I led the way, trying to recall in which direction the spring-fed lake lay, listening to the girls' easy conversation. I had not known, until yesterday, that they had bothered to befriend one another.
Women are a mystery.
At the summit, I paused to rest our mounts. While our horses stood along the mountain's crest with lowered heads and heaving barrels, blowing through their nostrils, we gazed into the valley below. The manor house and its sprawl of outlying buildings looked small and snug in the distance, held fast in the cupped green hand of the valley, while the river meandered through it like a silver ribbon.
"Oh, Imri! I'd forgotten how pretty it is in the mountains." Katherine drew a deep breath of fresh air and looked at me, eyes shining. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
In an instant, I felt ashamed of the thoughts I had harbored, and of how little consideration I had showed her this summer. Katherine was the seneschal's daughter. Since she had left childhood behind, it was duty that had bound her to the manor house, not disdain of my company. "Yes." I smiled at her. "It is."
Roshana gave me a curious glance. "You love this place, don't you?"
"Very much so." I thought about Montrève, and all its inhabitants, then gave myself a little shake. "Let's go. 'Tis this way, I think."
Although it took the better part of an hour, I found the lake without too much difficulty. It lay in one of the high, hidden meadows, where the grass and wildflowers grew in unchecked profusion. The lake was as I remembered it, perfect and round, surrounded by a stony ledge of sun-warmed granite, a blue eye giving a secret wink unto the heavens.
After letting the horses drink their fill, we tethered them. I unloaded the saddlebags and spread our blankets in the meadow, pressing the grass flat. It was truly an idyllic spot. All around us, flowers nodded on tall stalks, and insects flitted on translucent wings. Katherine removed her leather shoes and peeled off her stockings. Her bare feet were fine and white. Hoisting her skirts, she crossed the rocky ledge, dipping a toe into the lake.
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