Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [125]
I dropped into the chair beside her. "You wish me to get my face tattooed?”
Kinadius snickered. Dorelei gave me a dimpled smile. "I think you'd look very handsome with a proper warrior's marks. Kinadius says you're owed them for the battle you and Eamonn fought.”
I eyed her, uncertain whether or not she was teasing. "Eamonn didn't feel the need.”
"It's not a Dalriadan custom," Urist said.
"Nor is a D'Angeline custom." I forced myself to smile. "We tattoo our backsides like civilized folk." At that, they laughed. "Tell me," I said, thinking of the markings Morwen and Berlik bore. "Why do you do it?”
They glanced at one another. Kinadius shrugged. "It's a mark of honor. It puts fear into one's enemies, knowing you've killed good men before them." He tapped the warrior's crescent and spear in the center of his brow. "That's for the first. Like I told you, it's your due, unless you were merely boasting.”
"You mustn't pay them any heed," Sibeal said kindly to me. "Warriors think the sun rises and sets on their feats, and wear their prowess on their faces that everyone might know it. But you'll note I made no such request of my lord Hyacinthe.”
"What of you?" I asked, curious.
"Did the Daughter of the Grove not tell you?" Dorelei asked.
I shook my head. "I know what it means, but not why.”
"Those who dream true dreams are marked, that others might know it and heed their words when they speak." The happiness in Dorelei's face ebbed away, leaving something troubled behind. "Or so it should be.”
I wondered if her talk with her aunt regarding her dreams had gone badly. I'd thought to tell Dorelei about my encounter with Morwen immediately upon my return, but now I thought better of it. She was preoccupied; and among the myriad things of which I was sick unto death, like riddles and games, mysterious interfering strangers, and people wanting me dead because of somewhat that happened before I was born, was having my personal tribulations the topic of endless, fruitless discussion. Morwen had neither harmed nor threatened me, and what she had said had no bearing on anyone but Dorelei and me. Later, in private, we would talk.
"Ah, I see," I said gently. "It seems I've a lot to learn yet about being a proper Pict.”
Her smile returned. "Are you saying you'll you do it, then?”
"This?" I smiled back at her. "Not likely.”
That night around the dinner table, an atmosphere of hushed, secretive excitement prevailed. Whatever it was Phèdre, Joscelin, and Hyacinthe were about, they weren't minded to tell anyone, and it made them cryptic and awkward. The children were oblivious to it; Urist and his men were dining in the garrison quarters. Lady Sibeal looked tranquil and undisturbed, and I guessed she knew. That left Dorelei and me to exchange confused looks.
When Galanna and Donal were packed off to bed under the nurse's auspices, I asked pointedly, "Would you all prefer that we follow them?”
They exchanged non-confused looks.
"Forgive us." Hyacinthe inclined his head. "We will let the matter rest.
"Hyacinthe…" Phèdre murmured.
He raised his brows. "Would you have them burdened with it?”
"No." Dorelei rose from the table with unexpected vigor. "I'll not speak for Imriel, but whatever it is, I've no interest in being burdened with it. And so, I'll bid you good night.”
I rose, torn, as she left the hall.
Sibeal gazed after her niece with quiet concern. The others looked at me. Figures out of legend, all three of them. Phèdre nó Delaunay, Kushiel's Chosen, with her dart-stricken gaze and the Name of God in her thoughts. Joscelin Verreuil, her Perfect Companion, the Queen's Champion. Hyacinthe, the Prince of Travellers, Master of the Straits.
"Imriel, if you wish—" Joscelin began.
"No," I said slowly. "Like Dorelei, I don't need another burden to carry. If you decide I do, then I'll listen. Right now, I think it best if I go talk to my wife.”
No one spoke against it. I took my leave and made my way to the chamber that Dorelei and I shared. As I passed the corridor leading to the garrison, I could