Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [354]
He grinned again, clapping Joscelin on the shoulder. "You can come too, I suppose. Did you know you're an uncle five times over? Jehane's been wed six years, and Honore almost four."
"I will, someday," Joscelin murmured.
"You would be welcome," his father said firmly. "Any day. Your mother longs to see you." He looked gently upon me. "And you will always be welcome in our home, Phedre no Delaunay. I knew the Comte de Montr?e, you know. I think, in the end, he would have been very proud of his son Anafiel, and what he has wrought in you."
"Thank you, my lord." It meant more than I would have guessed. Tears stung my eyes, and I hoped that, somewhere in the true Terre d'Ange that lies beyond, Delaunay had won his father's pride.
I stood back and let them make their final farewells alone, then. There was a small party of Siovalese departing all together that morning. Luc Verreuil turned in the saddle as they rode away, the sunlight bright on his wheat-blond hair. "They sing some interesting songs about you in the hospital ward, Phedre no Delaunay!" he shouted, laughing.
"Blessed Elua." I could feel the flush rising. Wounded or no, Rousse's damned sailors, Phedre's Boys, would teach that damned song to anyone who would listen.
"They adore you," Joscelin said dryly. "They've earned the right."
I shuddered. "But in front of your father?"
"I know." He watched them ride away, joining the train of Siovalese. "He wanted to speak to the Prefect about rescinding his edict against me."
My heart, unexpectedly, leapt into my throat. "What did you say?" I asked, striving to keep my voice calm. Joscelin glanced at me.
"I said no." Another faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips, glinted in his blue eyes. "After all, I have my vow to think of."
How long had it been since I had laughed, truly laughed? I couldn't remember. I laughed then, and felt it like a clean wind in my spirit, while Joscelin regarded me with amusement.
"We do need to talk, though," I said, when I had caught my breath. He nodded, sobering. But just then one of Ysandre's pages came at a run across the drawbridge, searching for me; I was needed, and our conversation must be put off that day.
As it was the next, and the day after. So it is with common folk, when the affairs of the mighty command their attention. And whatever part Joscelin and I had played in the tapestry of war, we were but bit players once more, in the arena of politics.
Ysandre kept her court at Troyes-le-Mont, while the nation restabilized. D'Angeline nobles came daily to the fortress, renewing pledges of loyalty in some cases; in others, divulging the disloyalty of their peers. She gauged them all with an astuteness beyond her years, aided by the counsel of Caspar Trevalion and Barquiel L'Envers-and too of Drustan mab Necthana, who understood a great deal more than most people reckoned. They betrayed themselves, sometimes, those who had plotted against her, gazing in startlement at his face, blue-whorled and strange. It was not strange to me, not any longer. I met privately with him each day to tutor him in D'Angeline, and was ever more impressed with his quiet, intuitive wisdom.
A constant watch was kept on the battlements, and every day the horns sounded, announcing some new arrival. I grew inured to it, scarce wondering any more who approached, merely marking the banners and insignia, checking them against the catalogue Delaunay had required Alcuin and me to memorize. I knew a great many of them, although Alcuin had known them all.
I was at the smithy, settling an argument for two of the minor lords of the Dalriada regarding repairs to their war-chariots-a new linch pin and wheel-rims-and took no notice of the horns that morning, until Joscelin appeared and caught at my arm.
"What is it?" I asked.
His face was unreadable. "Come and see."
"The work is done, let them have the chariots," I said to the smith. "The Cruarch will see you paid for your labor." I do not like to admit it, but some of the D'Angeline