Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [128]
"What of the child?" I asked.
"What would you have me say?" Dorelei smiled ruefully. "It would hardly be the first child in Alba raised without a blood-father. There would be no lack of men at Clunderry willing to play the role. You'd acknowledge him, I hope. Or her. I've not been with anyone else.”
"Of course!" I glanced up at her, stung.
"So." Dorelei shrugged. "Mayhap we should cancel the Alban nuptials. You'll have to tell me what's needful to recant the vows we swore in Terre d'Ange.”
My head ached. I felt a sense of loss, keen and piercing; the first true emotion I'd felt since Aodhan placed his protective charms on me. What if there's a child? Sidonie had asked. I'd made some careless reply, assuming it would make little difference. I thought about my mother's letters, filled with an unexpected depth of maternal passion, and about the way Hyacinthe devoted himself to his children, having grown up fatherless. And I thought about Dorelei calling me self-absorbed, too.
And Morwen. Morwen had said the future had changed. I wondered if she'd known.
"I'd rather not." I swallowed. "If…if there is a child, I'd rather it were born knowing I cared enough to wed you, to stay with you. To be a father to my daughter or son, at least long enough to see him draw his first breath, laugh his first laugh. But…" I took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in my chest. "Not at the cost of your happiness, Dorelei. I'll abide by whatever you wish.”
"You mean it?" she asked.
I nodded. "If my staying will make you miserable, I'll go.”
She considered me. "And if you stay, what happens later? To us?”
"I don't know," I said honestly. "If we find that our lives together don't contain enough happiness to sustain us, so be it. At least we will always know we tried, and so will our child. If he becomes Talorcan's heir, he'll have the full mantle of legitimacy." I hesitated. " 'Tis your choice, truly. Do you think you could endure my presence a while longer? Even if it meant the loss of your dreams?”
Dorelei laughed, but this time there was no bitterness in it, only sorrow. "Oh, I think I could manage it.”
"Good." The ache of emptiness retreated a little. I smiled at her. "You're sure?”
"I think so, yes." She sighed and left the window, coming to sit beside me. "You know, this wasn't the discussion I'd planned on having, but I'm glad we did. 'Tis time and more we were fully honest with one another, and this time I'm more to blame than you. We did promise to be friends to one another.”
"Many a marriage of state is built on worse," I agreed.
"True.”
Her admission of love hung between us. I hadn't known she felt that way, hadn't even suspected. For as much attention as I'd been paying her, it was my own feelings, or lack thereof, I'd been obsessing over. Self-absorbed, indeed.
I cleared my throat. "Shall I see if there's another guest chamber available?”
"Well, I didn't mean we had to take it that far," Dorelei said quickly, then flushed. We both laughed, although she stopped first, turning somber once more. "We should wait a while, though. I'll know for a surety in a couple of weeks. If I'm right, then there's no harm in making love. The damage is done, as it were. But if I'm wrong…" She fell silent.
"What if you are?" I asked. "If you're not with child, what then?”
The strength of women is different from the strength of men, deep and enduring. Dorelei looked at me, her eyes dark and solemn. She touched the red yarn bound around my wrist. "Imriel, I don't know what the Old Ones want, and I don't care. You're not meant to live this way and neither am I. If I'm not with child, then I think it would be for the best if you boarded the first ship to Terre d'Ange. Don't you?”
"Yes." There was a vast relief at saying the words. "I do.”
She smiled sadly. "Good.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Our relationship changed for the better after that night.
Dorelei's honesty had been as bracing as being doused with a bucket of cold water. I'd been working so hard to convince myself that things might be fine between