Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [115]
I ran a finger beneath the strand of red yarn tied around my left wrist. "I only want to know the truth.”
"Your wants are dangerous things," Dorelei muttered.
I gave her a hard look. "You've had no cause to complain of them lately.”
It was the first time we'd quarrelled; or come near to it, anyway. Like Conor, I decided it would be best if I absented myself for a time. I saddled the Bastard and rode to the seashore, where I spent the better part of an afternoon reading the book of love letters Sidonie had given me.
Aside from pity for the plight of Remuel L'Oragen and Claire LeDoux of Namarre, I found myself unmoved. It was an unnerving sensation. I sat on a boulder and stared at the sunlight sparkling on the waves, trying to recapture the feelings I'd struggled so hard to suppress.
I couldn't do it.
They were still there. Of that, I was sure. Aodhan hadn't lied. I could sense them, in the same way I'd been aware of my own helpless will the night Morwen had summoned me. But I could no longer feel them.
I'd thought myself glad of it until I'd tried. Now I was no longer sure. I tugged at the croonie-stone, wondering what would happen if I removed it. And then I thought about that night. Come here, Morwen had said, and I'd gone, obedient as a lamb to slaughter.
"Blessed Elua," I murmured. "What will you?”
There was no answer, save from the Bastard, hobbled nearby. He lifted his speckled head and snorted, gazing at me with incurious eyes. So I sighed, untied his hobbles, and rode back to Innisclan.
By the time I arrived, I'd nearly forgotten the harsh words Dorelei and I had exchanged. Seeing her, I remembered and made an apology. She accepted it with a smile and tendered an apology of her own, and the matter was forgotten.
So instead I spoke to Phèdre regarding the Maghuin Dhonn, asking her which version of their history she believed true, Drustan's or Ferghus'.
"Like as not, the truth lies somewhere in between." She was quiet for a moment. "Do you believe the tales of shapeshifting?”
I thought about Morwen. "Mayhap.”
"Caledonius wrote that when they skinned the bear, they found a human body beneath its pelt," Phèdre observed. "I don't know, love. It may be that what Ferghus said was true, that it was powerful magic at work. And it may be that Drustan said was true, and the Maghuin Dhonn succumbed to madness nonetheless." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "One truth does not discount the other.”
"No," I agreed. "It doesn't.”
We were both silent then, remembering Daršanga, where dark magics were at work and madness held sway. Where I had been enslaved through a quirk of unhappy fate. Where Phèdre and Joscelin had rescued me, and averted a great evil.
"All things are bound to one another," Phèdre mused. "Though the bindings be hidden to the eye. 'Tis an interesting notion.”
"The harpist was an interesting fellow," I said wryly.
She laughed. "Grainne thinks so.”
"The Lady Grainne has …interesting …tastes." I eyed her. "You haven't…?”
"No, no." Phèdre looked amused. "That was a long time ago. She was merely curious, I think.”
"What of Hyacinthe?" I asked.
"Hyacinthe." Her expression warmed when she said his name. "I'll tell you one thing. I'll be glad when we're safe under his aegis.”
It wasn't exactly an answer, but it wasn't exactly my concern, either. Once, not long ago, it would have bothered me. Now the sharp edges of my jealousy seemed worn away. Some of it, I thought, was maturity. I'd grown and changed a great deal in the past year, and I'd even learned somewhat of what it meant to be in love.
But some of it wasn't. Some of it was due to the muting of my own desire.
Later, I tested the notion, forcing myself to envision somewhat that should have tormented me: Maslin de Lombelon in Sidonie's bed.
It gave me a distant pang. Somewhere, on the far side of the ollamh's protections, I knew it hurt. I knew it provoked irrational jealousy, bitter and hateful. But I didn't feel it, except as a vague irritation;