Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [151]
Joscelin stood silent, having only heard the first part of my words. "That's not fair," he said softly. "It's what I am as much as what you are. The problem has ever lain between the two. Phèdre..." He took a step toward me, one hand touching my hair; I turned to him, lifting up my face.
If, if, if. If Remy hadn't sent him ...
Joscelin was human; not even Cassilines are made of stone. His hand slid through my hair and I felt the shudder that went through him as his fingers brushed the nape of myneck. "Phèdre, no," he murmured against my lips as I kissed him, but it was he who had lowered his head to mine. Cassiel's Servant, I should have let him go; but I was Naamah's, and wound my arms about his neck instead, kissing him. I think he would have pushed me away, if his hands hadn't betrayed him, coming hard around my waist. "Don't," he whispered into my hair.
I did.
It was ungentle, for the first time—the only time—between us. Wracked between despair and desire, Joscelin was rougher than was his wont. And I could not hide the pleasure it brought me, stifling my cries against the sculpted curve of his shoulder. It was over too soon, and too late to undo. There is a madness in love. I watched him go, gathering his clothes, averting his gaze to hide the self-loathing in his eyes. Naked by moonlight, he was beautiful, muscles gliding in a subtle shadow play beneath his pale skin, fair hair shimmering. I had to close my eyes against it and hear the rustle of him dressing.
When I opened them, I didn't mince words. "You're leaving."
"Yes." Neither did he; we never had, the two of us.
"Will you come back?"
"I don't know," Joscelin said bluntly. "Phèdre, you don't need me. This isn't Skaldia. Any one of your chevaliers can serve you better here than I have, and has. They protect you well enough. I was wrong about them. If you've not found what you sought, still, you found enough. It will be in Benedicte's hands tomorrow, and better for it. You can go home and be the toast of the City once more."
"And your vow?" I made myself ask it.
Joscelin shrugged. "I broke all my vows but one for you, my lady," he said softly. "Let us say it is you yourself who have shattered this last."
There is such a thing as a grief too immense for tears; this was almost one such. Almost. I watched him go dry-eyed, and heard the click of my bedchamber door behind him, the louder thud of the front entrance door shutting, andthe sleepy murmur of a servant-lad as he roused to bar the door on his exit. Only then did his absence strike me like a blow, a terrible emptiness. So many times, like the tide, he had withdrawn only to return. This time, I felt only absence, and a sucking despair. I wept enough tears to fill a void, and though I never thought I would, fell asleep at last in the whiteness of pure exhaustion on my soaked and bitter pillow.
FORTY
"Where's Joscelin?" It was Ti-Philippe, most blithe and careless of the three, who asked; Fortun had taken one look at my reddened eyes and remained wisely silent, and Remy, who had sent Joscelin to me, avoided my gaze.
"Gone," I said shortly. "And not likely to return." I set down the heel of jam-smeared bread I'd been toying with—I had no appetite—and turned to Fortun. "You have the map?"
"Yes, my lady." He indicated the cylindrical leather case at his side. "We are all ready," he added quietly, "and the boat is waiting. Whenever you're ready."
"Let's go." I rose abruptly from the breakfast table, leaving them scrambling in my wake. My maid Leonora stared after us, shaking her head, no doubt wondering at the strangeness of D'Angeline ways. Well, if my behavior was odd this day, she'd put it down to the falling-out with Severio. If she hadn't heard it already, she would soon enough.
The fisherman-cousin of the Pidari family, whose name was Fiorello, was awaiting us anxiously