Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [294]
At least aboard the ship there was a good deal of time to talk, for we had a good deal of talking to be done, and much of it to Imriel. Ultimately, my plan rested on his decision, and I meant to be certain it was wholly his.
"Why is Queen Ysandre so angry at you?" he wanted to know. "Because of me? But it was my fault—I followed you."
"I know," I said. "But we could have returned you. And that was our choice." And I explained to him once again the long history of his family, House Courcel, and the blood-quarrels that had divided it, and how Ysandre wished to make an end of it by bringing him into the fold. "It's a noble purpose, Imri. You'll like her. You'll like her very much. I do. There is no one I admire more."
He frowned, sitting cross-legged on deck in his Jebean breeches and chamma. It was still warm in the sun if one sat out of the wind. "Valère L'Envers wants me dead."
"It may be," I said. "But Nineveh is a long way from the City of Elua."
"Where her father is the Royal Commander."
"Yes," I said. "He is that."
There was nothing childish about Imriel's face as he considered it.
"House L'Envers will not be pleased with the Queen's decision. And they are powerful."
"Not more powerful than the Queen," I said.
He bent his head and fiddled with the pouch at his belt, his voice nearly inaudible. "You said you wouldn't leave me."
"Nor would I," I said gently, touching his arm. "Imri, listen to me. You have strong feelings for Joscelin and I because we found you in the worst of all possible places."
"No!" The word came out sharper and more harsh than I intended. I sighed and ran a hand through my wind-disheveled locks. I was making a mess of this conversation. "Imriel. We love you dearly, Joscelin and I both. If it were only that. . . Elua! We would adopt you in a heartbeat."
He looked at me with the terrible hunger only an abandoned child can muster.
So be it, then. I couldn't bear to leave him in anguish. But I had to be certain. "You remember how you hated me in Daršanga?" I asked him.
Imriel nodded.
"And how the way I was frightened you, after Saba?"
He nodded again.
"Well." I drew a shuddering breath. "It's part of who I am, Imri; of what I am. And that. . . that will never change, while I live. The manner of it may, but the nature remains the same. I am an anguissette, Kushiel's Chosen. Some of the worst things you have endured . . . those are things I have known freely, of my own will. Do you understand that?"
"Yes," he murmured.
"You've Kushiel's blood in your own veins." I took one of his hands in mine and turned it over, showing him the blue veins that coursed in his fine wrist. "One day, you will know it. And it will make matters more difficult.”
"No!" He snatched his hand away. "Never! I am not like that. Like him." His face contorted with loathing. "Like her."
Like the Mahrkagir.
Like his mother.
"No," I said, "you're not. You are your own. But you're half-Kusheline, Imriel, of one of the oldest and purest bloodlines in the realm. And betimes it will out. Betimes you will despise me, as you did in Daršanga. There was nothing said of me there that was not true. And betimes you may despise Joscelin, who knows it, and chooses to remain. It is a great mystery, Kushiel's mercy. The part I understand is the part that yields. Your birthright is the other part."
His face worked. "I don't want it. I don't! Why are you telling me this?"
"Because it is true," I said softly. "And these are things you need to know if it is your wish, truly your wish, to be adopted into my household."
Imriel caught his breath; not daring to breathe, not daring to hope. I knew that feeling too well. "Do you mean it?" The words emerged in a breathless rush.
And that was all I got out before Imriel flung himself on me, his arms in a stranglehold about my neck. All I could do was hold him, not understanding a word of the