Kushiel's Scion (71 page)

Authors: Jacqueline Carey

Tags: #High Fantasy

BOOK: Kushiel's Scion

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"Welcome, your highness," he said in D'Angeline. "Her ladyship is pleased that you've chosen to honor her."

Ah, Elua! The sound of his voice gave me an unexpected pang. It had been months since I'd heard anyone but Gilot speaking my mother tongue.

I hadn't realized, until that evening, how much I missed Terre d'Ange.

The guard escorted us into the palazzo, and Lady Fleurais emerged promptly to greet us. "Prince Imriel." She curtsied as protocol dictated, then gave me the kiss of greeting with seemingly genuine warmth. "Welcome."

The D'Angeline ambassadress was a woman of early middle years, with hair the color of new mahogany and shrewd eyes in a kind, lovely face—and all at once, I remembered why I knew her name. She had accompanied Lord Amaury Trente on his mission to Menekhet to retrieve me, and had taken over trade negotiations with Pharaoh when Amaury and the others had gone on to Khebbel-im-Akkad. It was where her career in diplomacy had begun.

Phèdre had spoken highly of her.

My eyes stung, and I blinked back unexpected tears. "Well met, my lady."

It was a pleasant evening; almost too pleasant. As the sun had not yet set, Lady Denise led me to see the garden temple at the rear of the palazzo. It was a gorgeous place, entirely hidden from view, lovingly tended. Roses of all hues grew in profusion and the scent of lavender hung in the air, another reminder of home.

We strolled around the perimeter. There were altars to all of the Companions; all save Cassiel, who served only Blessed Elua. I gazed at each in turn, the statues in their niches… gentle Eisheth with her harp, proud Azza holding a compass, clever Shemhazai with his tablet. Naamah held a dove cupped in her hands, while fierce Camael wielded his sword and a seedling sprouted from Anael's palm. And Kushiel; of course Kushiel, bearing his rod and flail.

Only Blessed Elua's hands were empty, open in blessing.

A priest in blue robes was pruning the rosebushes around his altar. I hung back, almost afraid to approach.

"Would you like to worship?" Lady Fleurais asked. "I often do at this hour."

"I'm… not sure," I murmured.

I did, though. I sat on the low bench provided and removed my boots. The grass was soft beneath my bare feet, damp with early dew. The priest smiled at me. Without a word, he cut a great handful of roses, laying them in my arms.

The amber light was fading, turning to soft twilight. Drawing a deep breath, I knelt before Elua's effigy and strewed the roses at his feet, their petals tender against the smooth marble. I could feel Elua's gaze upon me, filled with a love so pure it hurt. I felt unworthy beneath his gaze; profane and unworthy.

"Blessed Elua," I whispered. "Guide me."

There was no answer, but a tiny sensation of peace blossomed in me, tentative and delicate. I rested my brow against the pedestal. I could have stayed there all night just to keep the sense alive in my heart. I understood for the first time—truly understood—why Joscelin maintained Elua's vigil on the Longest Night. I would have liked to do the same.

But the ambassadress was waiting, and I was no Cassiline. No god's servant, no god's chosen. Only Imriel, alone and confused and far from home. With a sigh, I kissed Blessed Elua's feet and forced myself to rise.

"Thank you," I said to Denise Fleurais.

"Oh, you're quite welcome." Her kind, intelligent gaze searched my face. "It's difficult to be an exile, isn't it? Even if the exile is of one's own choosing."

"Yes," I said. "It is."

We dined in one of the palazzo's smaller salons, at a table set with white linens. After weeks of Caerdicci fare, it was a pleasure to dine on D'Angeline cuisine and drink good Namarrese wine. All the household staff was D'Angeline. They went about their business with quiet, efficient pride. It's a strange thing, how even the way a platter is placed on a table can remind one of home.

I'd missed it; missed it all.

Lady Denise Fleurais was an excellent companion. She inquired after my studies, listening with lively interest while I told her about Master Piero, laughing at the tale of his chasing pigeons in the Forum. In turn, I asked after news from home. Although it felt like I'd been gone for ages, in truth, it was little over two months and there was only one piece of news of any significance.

"The Queen has announced Princess Alais' betrothal to Prince Talorcan, the Cruarch's nephew," Denise told me.

I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth, then finished my bite, chewed and swallowed. Alais' tearstained face swam in my memory, her voice pleading, Don't leave me, please! "She's so young."

Denise nodded. "Fourteen," she said. "Of course, the wedding won't take place for a couple of years. You're fond of her, your highness?"

"Very." I pushed away the memory of her tears. "What of Sidonie?"

"Oh, I daresay she has her share of suitors," she said, smiling. "But no, the Queen's letter said naught of her."

"And what did it say of me?" I asked.

Denise Fleurais beckoned to her wine steward, then dismissed him with a gracious word of thanks after he refilled our cups. She sipped her wine, considering me. "Her majesty is concerned," she said frankly. "It wasn't until after your departure that she learned you had left with a single attendant and were travelling in disguise as a commoner."

"Not exactly," I said. "And I'm travelling under my own name."

"Half of it, yes." She frowned. "Your highness, I will be honest. Yes, although her first concern is that I assertain your well-being, her majesty asks me to urge you to return to Terre d'Ange. Failing that, she asks that I use the embassy's resources to ensure that you are esconced here in Tiberium with due honor and the privileges and protection according to your rank."

"Imriel," I said. "Call me Imriel."

She blinked at me. "I beg your pardon?"

I pushed my plate away. "No mind. My lady, I appreciate Ysandre's concern. Please tell her so, and that I am well. But I am doing what I believe is needful for my own sake. At the moment, that means living as Imriel nó Montrève and not a Prince of the Blood."

"May I ask why?" Lady Denise inquired gently.

It was the gentleness that nearly undid me. I looked away for a moment. It would have been easy, so easy, to tell her everything—Claudia, the Unseen Guild, all of it. She was an intelligent woman and a skilled diplomat; even Phèdre had said as much. It would be a blessed relief to lay the problem in her lap and shroud myself in the embassy's sanctuary.

But the seeds of doubt were there.

For all I knew, she was part of it. Of a surety, she had found me without difficulty. If the Guild existed and Denise Fleurais was complicit, this was a test I would fail. If she was innocent, then I placed her in jeopardy. She had a measure of status and power in Tiberium, but when all was said and done, Terre d'Ange was a long way away.

I couldn't be sure. This was a problem I needed to solve on my own, and giving up what freedom I'd acquired here for the mantle of the Queen's protection would change nothing.

And so I temporized. "My lady, you were in Menekhet, were you not? You know my history." I met her gaze squarely. "And you know my lineage, as does the whole of Terre d'Ange. Can you blame me for wanting a respite from it?"

"No," she said ruefully. "Not really."

The moment passed, and Lady Denise let it go with a diplomat's practiced grace. We spoke of other matters, touching on nothing of import, until the hour grew late and it was time for me to take my leave. I bowed and thanked her for her hospitality.

"You're a pleasant guest. I should have expected as much from Phèdre nó Delaunay's foster-son." She smiled at me, though her face was troubled. "Prince Imriel, I will respect your wishes and your privacy, unless her majesty orders otherwise. Only know that the embassy is here to serve you." She paused. "And I will leave a standing order with the guard. You are welcome here at any hour if you wish to avail yourself of the temple garden. Please consider it at your disposal."

"My thanks," I said. "That's kind of you."

Accompanied by Gilot, I departed the palazzo, and we made our way down the Esquiline Hill and through the city. He was in high spirits, having had a fine time dining, drinking, and dicing with the embassy guard while I met with the ambassadress.

"Elua's Balls!" he exulted. "It was like a taste of home. To be around people who look like you, think like you, talk like you… Ah, by all the gods, it felt good." Holding a torch aloft to light our way, he glanced sidelong at me. "It's not that I don't like Tiberium, mind, but… don't you miss it?"

"Yes," I murmured. "I do."

The fragile sense of peace I'd experienced in the garden was gone, long gone. I listened with half an ear while Gilot rattled on about the embassy, the guards, the possibility of taking a position there when I decided to return to Terre d'Ange. How Anna might feel about it, how her daughter would adjust to the change, how he might reconcile the two worlds.

My own thoughts were a jumble.

I wanted… what? A part of me wanted to go home. I wanted to see Alais, to hug her and promise to be the brother she wanted me to be. I wanted to find out who was courting Sidonie, especially if it was Maslin de Lombelon. I wanted Phèdre and Joscelin, so much so that it made me dizzy to think about it. I would have told them everything; everything. The Unseen Guild was no match for the two of them. That, I believed with all of my heart.

And another part wanted only to forget.

Forget the garden, forget the Lady Denise and her D'Angeline household. It only made me yearn; made me weak. I couldn't afford it. Unwitting or no, I'd walked into this maze of snares of my own accord. I didn't want to be rescued from it. I'd already played the role of victim in my lifetime, and it had left a trail of bloodshed and horror in my wake.

Once was enough.

I needed to make a choice. I could make an end to the affair with Claudia and refuse the Guild's overtures as Anafiel Delaunay had done, promising my silence in exchange for their tolerance. Or I could accept their offer, pledge my loyalty, and discover what deeper truths lay behind the tidbits of knowledge Claudia had dangled before me.

The first path meant accepting ignorance. That was the part that galled me. In Siovale, they say all knowledge is worth having, and I hated the thought of leaving the mystery unresolved, of always wondering what unseen forces were shaping the world around me. Still, Anafiel Delaunay had reckoned the Guild's price too high. He'd walked away from their offer, and so far as I knew, he'd kept their secrets and never looked back.

If he could do it, so could I.

At least I hoped so.

Chapter Forty-One