Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [37]
Joscelin tended to me that night, massaging unguent into the fresh weals. I lay content beneath his hands, enjoying the sensation, my head pillowed on my arms.
"All of this in love's name," he mused. "I don't pretend to understand it, Phèdre."
"No," I murmured, heavy-lidded. The unguent stung where the lash had broken skin. It felt good. "But you were right to send me."
"I know. I ought to, by now. How you and I ever survived one another is a mystery." In his voice was a fondness and humor no one else could ever comprehend save we two, whose love must surely make Blessed Elua smile. "Ah, well. You'll need to see the marquist, love." His fingertips traced a welt where it crossed the etched lines of my marque. "It will need retouching. Here," his fingers moved, "and here."
I shuddered under his touch, that transmuted pain into yearning. If we were ill-suited in the manifestations of our desires, still, there was an especial torment in knowing it, in the need to steal bliss by illicit means. Feeling my body grow languid with desire, I breathed his name, half-laughing as it caught in my throat. "Joscelin . . ."
"Do you want. . . ?" Joscelin whispered, one hand sliding over the curve of my buttocks.
"Yes." Rolling over, I drew him down to me. "Oh, yes."
twelve
IN TH E morning, I steeled my courage and presented myself at court.
I did not think Ysandre would welcome our news, and I was right. Her face went white and she paced the drawing-room like an angry lioness, lips moving in silent imprecations. Joscelin stood a step nearer to me than was his wont in the royal presence, and I was glad Drustan and Sibeal were there.
The annals of history will not show that Ysandre de la Courcel had a fierce temper. I have seldom seen her loose it unguarded, and never without provocation. It was a measure of her trust that she permitted herself to display it before us.
Nonetheless, it made me nervous.
"Who?" she demanded, halting with arms akimbo. "Who would do such a thing, and tell me naught of it?"
I opened my mouth, and closed it prudently.
"The Shahrizai." The Queen's lips thinned. "Will they ever be a plague on my reign? I will send for Duc Paragon . . ." She stopped, and I saw her remember. The last time she had summoned the Duc de Shahrizai before her throne, it had been because of her uncle Barquiel L'Envers' unorthodox meddling.
"My lady," I said. "Ysandre. Melisande is certain it was none of her kin."
"What do you think?" Drustan mab Necthana asked me.
"I think she is telling the truth."
"The whole truth?" Ysandre looked hard at me.
"Probably not." I shrugged. "One may assume it, with Melisande. But what she spoke was truth."
The Queen's sharp gaze turned to Joscelin. "What do you say, Cassiline?”
"Your majesty." He bowed to her with crossed forearms. "I concur with my lady Phèdre. Melisande Shahrizai is as dangerous as a viper, and twice as subtle, but I do not believe she lied."
"That child," Ysandre said, half to herself. "That poor boy. I warned her of as much."
Drustan was murmuring to Sibeal, clarifying the exchange in Cruithne. On her face alone I saw somewhat different reflected: hope, and a visionary's clear certainty.
"It was a true dream," she said in her softly accented D'Angeline when he had done. Her wide-set dark eyes turned my way. "You will find a way to free him."
Hyacinthe.
Jebe-Barkal.
"My lady Sibeal," I said. "I pray it may be so. But I have made a promise, and I must keep it. It may be that a child's life hangs in the balance."
"And it may be too late." Ysandre did not mince words. "Whosoever is responsible."
"I know." I met her eyes. "Still, I must look."
"Whosoever is responsible." She took a deep breath. "Whoever it is, they will face