Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [79]
Word raced ahead of us, borne by one of the intrepid lads such as hang about the guards at the City gates, waiting for something of note to happen. I've no doubt Eugenie paid him in coin for the news, for by the time we arrived at my charming house tucked into the end of a winding street below the Palace hill, a joyous reception awaited us.
"Name of Elua!" Ti-Philippe was fair dancing with excitement. "It's about time you came back, my lady! Whatever missive you sent to the Queen, Court's been buzzing like a hive for a month and more, and her close-mouthed as a clam about it. You could have sent to us, you know. What is it? Did you find the boy?"
I opened my mouth to reply.
"Oh, let her be," Eugenie scolded, thrusting Ti-Philippe out of theway and coming forward to embrace me. "Come, my lady, ignore him. I've water heating for the bath, it will be done in a trice, and supper to follow. Julien's run down to the market to see if they've got fresh snapper yet..."
On it went, a litany of domestic comforts. I was home.
Ti-Philippe could wait; I had my bath first, luxuriating in hot water, fragrant with sweet oils, a handful of dried lavender floating on the surface and candles set about everywhere. When all was said and done, I was a courtesan still. Nicola was right in that. My bedchamber, I share with Joscelin, and no patron has ever seen it. But my bathing-room was my own.
Afterward, I lay on the massage-table and Eugenie's niece Clory rubbed my travel-weary body with an oil containing an infusion of mint, soothing and refreshing. I scarce knew the girl; she'd been new-hired in the spring. Not so new, now. It was I who had been absent.
"You've good hands, Clory," I murmured, eyes half-closed.
"I've been studying with a masseur from Balm House, my lady." Her voice was tentative, though her hands were sure, thumbs pressing hard into the small of my back, relieving days' worth of saddle-ache. "Aunt Eugenie said you would be pleased?"
"Your aunt is a wise woman." In the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers, Balm House is dedicated to comfort and solace. I sat up reluctantly. "Thank you, Clory."
She flushed with pleasure, holding out a silk robe in the proper manner. "You liked it? Master Lugard said a raw apprentice wasn't fit to tend to Kushiel's Chosen."
"What?" I looked over my shoulder, twisting my damp hair out of the way. "Well, the more fool, he. Listen to your aunt, child, she's wiser than him. I grew up in the Night Court, and I know how its servants gossip. I was one. Your skills are a welcome addition, but in my household, as Eugenie knows well, I value discretion above all else. Do you understand?"
"My lady." Clory bobbed a fervent curtsy, oil-slickened hands clutched together as if to hold something precious. "I understand, my lady. I would never betray your trust, never!"
"Good." I smiled at her, thinking to myself; child, Blessed Elua, I called her child! I never thought to hear such a thing from my own lips. "And the next time anyone dares suggest you're not fit to serve me, tell them I say otherwise.”
"I will, my lady." Another curtsy, adoration in her eyes. "Thank you, my lady."
Ah, Elua. I sat before my mirror after dismissing Clory. My own face regarded me quizzically, fair and shadowed by candlelight, the dark pools of my eyes, a rose-petal of crimson marring the left, beautiful still, but not a maiden's anymore. A mouth made for love, the smooth curve of eyelid, brows arched like gentle wings. How long, I thought, tracing my features in the steam-misted glass, before it begins to fade? It is one of the ephemeral qualities most cherished in Cereus House— beauty at its fullest bloom, before the first sere kiss of frost. If I were an adept proper, pampered and cosseted, I might maintain it for years. On