Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [129]
It was a blessed relief to have it in the open between us. I stopped trying so hard to be pleasant and charming, and discovered she liked me well enough as myself. I worried less about being attentive, and more about actually paying attention to what she thought and felt.
We grew easier with one another, truly easier. If Dorelei's feelings for me troubled her, we spoke of it. And if my bindings chafed, I acknowledged it.
Oddly enough, they didn't, though. Not as they had.
I spoke to Phèdre about what Dorelei and I had decided, alone and in private. She was Queen Ysandre's confidante, and I thought it best to tell her first. She heard me out in thoughtful silence. "Are you upset?" I asked when I'd finished.
"Upset? Elua, no!" Phèdre laughed in wonderment. "I'm still trying to get my thoughts to encompass you with a child of your own.”
The words drew an unexpected grin from me. "No, but about the other thing. Dissolving the marriage if she's not with child.”
"No." She glanced involuntarily toward the east, toward Terre d'Ange. "No, Ysandre will be, and I daresay Drustan, but for my part, I'd be relieved. Even if you are safe from harm, I don't like the idea of you wrapped round with an ollamh's charms, your own nature divided against itself. 'Tis contrary to Elua's precept. And surely, they'll have to acknowledge the matter is troubling. Neither of you can be blamed for the choice.”
"You'd stand by us, then?" I asked.
"Of course." Phèdre sounded surprised. She hesitated. "What do you mean to do afterward, Imri?”
We hadn't spoken of Sidonie since leaving the City of Elua. "I've no idea," I said truthfully. "Nothing rash, I promise." I raised my brows. "Mayhap I could accompany you and Joscelin on whatever it is you're about.”
"Oh, that." She smiled at me. "So you do want to know, then?”
I thought about it. "Not really, no.”
Phèdre laughed and kissed my cheek. "Fairly spoken.”
In some part of me, I knew all of this would come to naught. 'Tis too late for that, Morwen had said when I'd spoken of returning to Terre d'Ange. A lot can happen in a month, Dorelei had said when I'd told her. There was a line drawn between those two things, taut and inevitable. Even I, dumbstruck and shocked to my callow core at the notion of impending fatherhood, had seen it without prompting.
But we waited until we knew for a surety.
In its own way, it was a pleasant time. Although I reported my encounter with Morwen to the others, there were no further sightings of the Maghuin Dhonn. The Lady Sibeal ran her household with a firm, gentle hand. Phèdre, Joscelin, and Hyacinthe continued to engage in their private intrigue, which involved long conferences in the tower, maps, and hushed, esoteric arguments. Awe gave way to a measure of familiarity. Day by day, the Master of the Straits began to seem more human, more mortal. The heavy mantle of responsibility that weighed on him seemed lighter in their company.
Meanwhile, Urist and his men alleviated the tedium with hunting and shooting for the pot, and Dorelei and I often rode with them, vying with one another for sport as we'd done at Innisclan.
I felt myself suspended between one thing and another; the known and the unknown. What would come, would come, and there was naught I could do about it. In truth, I couldn't have said what I truly wanted.
Betimes, freedom beckoned. There was no denying it.
But at other times, I found myself gazing at Dorelei, filled with an inexplicable tenderness. Ah, Elua! The notion that we had begotten life between us…
It is an old mystery; the oldest mystery.
I prayed to Blessed Elua, and my prayers were simple. Love as thou wilt, he bade us. But he failed to elaborate on all the myriad forms of love that existed. And so I prayed, simply, that whatever happened, I acted in love.
"You're sure?" I asked Dorelei when she told me.
"Yes, I'm sure!" She swatted at my hands as I raised her skirts,