Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [127]
"Well, what did you think we were about!" she said tartly. She let go my hand and sighed. "I don't know for sure, Imriel; not yet. But I think so, yes.”
"But that's …that's wonderful!" I blinked. "Isn't it?”
"Is it?" Dorelei looked steadily at me. "Nothing's really changed, has it? Not beneath these." She reached out to pluck at the red yarn. "If it had, these wouldn't be needful.”
"I don't know." I thought about my glimpse of Sidonie in the sea-mirror, my encounter with Morwen. The way the bindings had itched and chafed, the croonie-stone had grown heavy. "Probably not." I returned her even gaze. "I'm doing my best, and I think 'tis fair to say we've grown fond of one another, but it may never change, Dorelei. I'll not make any false promises. What of you? Would you claim to love me?" She made no reply. "When I returned today, you were happy, there with your aunt and Urist's men. Kinadius leapt up like a scalded cat when I entered the hall. He'd hoped to court you one day, you know.”
Dorelei flushed. "What are you saying?”
I spread my hands. "Only that he's the sort of man could make you happy, and I'm not.”
"A proper Pict, you mean?" She smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter, Imriel. Neither you or I entered this marriage thinking to find love and happiness.”
"No, but one can hope," I said.
"One can." She rose and went to gaze out the window again. "And one can recognize the moment when hope turns to folly, too. But it's not only that. It's all become so complicated. We agreed to a marriage of state. You didn't agree to having your heart's desire locked away behind an ollamh's charms. I didn't agree to have my dreams silenced. Mayhap these are signs that should be heeded.”
"What will you?" I asked simply.
Her slender shoulders rose and fell. "You know, I've thought about it from time to time. The sky wouldn't crack and fall if we were to part. My brother is the Cruarch's heir, yes, but he needn't worry about naming an heir of his own for years and years. The Cruarch may have conceived this solution, but 'tis Terre d'Ange pushed for it.”
The answer took me by surprise. I'd no idea she'd thought seriously about ending our marriage. Since I didn't know what to say to it, I only addressed her latter comment. "Believe me, I know," I said. "I felt the pushing.”
"So fearful of protecting their interests!" Dorelei laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Our nations are allies and both of us profit by it. Why should that change, no matter who rules? Tell me truly, Imriel, what do they think a child of ours would guarantee? Unquestioning fealty?”
"I don't know." My chest felt tight. "My lady, I never claimed to agree with my countrymen. Despite Blessed Elua's teaching, they place far too much significance on his bloodlines.”
"And yet you agreed to this," she mused. When I didn't answer, she laughed again, short and humorless. "Do you know what the worst thing is?”
"No," I murmured.
Dorelei turned to face me. "I actually do love you." There were tears on her brown cheeks. "Not…" She made an impatient gesture. "I don't know, not like it is in the ballads. It's stupid and it hurts. You're insufferably self-absorbed, and you make me miserable.”
"I'm not—" I began.
"Oh, you are!" She laughed bitterly, dashing at her tears. "And then you do your best to be kind and charming, and you look at me, truly look at me with those stupid blue eyes, and smile, and my heart turns upside down, and I hate it, and I hate you for it.”
"That would be love," I said quietly.
"Now you know." Dorelei sniffled and wiped her nose. Her voice hardened. "So what will you, Imriel de la Courcel?”
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows propped on my knees. "You spoke of parting. Is that your wish?”
"I don't know." She sounded weary. "Betimes, I think it would be better for both of us. You'd be free. I'd be able to dream freely again. Mayhap all this strangeness that's been attendant on our marriage would end. I'd like that, very much. It frightens me to have the …Old Ones …meddling in our lives. And I …this would