Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [134]
"Of course, my lord." A heated flush reddened Conor's cheeks.
Drustan smiled gently. "Give us another tune, lad. A merry tune, that we might end this night in gladness.”
Conor took a deep breath. "Of course, my lord!”
He played a merry tune, his thin brown fingers dancing over the strings, plucking and teasing, picking out a melody that goaded one's heart to lift and one's feet to dance, infectious and mirthful. A good many folk did rise to dance, including Phèdre, laughing, who hauled a protesting Joscelin to his feet. On and on, Conor played, his melody scaling new heights with every change of verse.
"Will you?" I asked Dorelei.
"Will you?" She flashed her dimpled smile.
So it was that we danced in the hall of Bryn Gorrydum, on the first eve of our Alban nuptials, amid strangers and loved ones alike. And when Conor at last ended his song, we were breathless and laughing, the both of us.
"The babe …?" I asked, belatedly anxious.
"The babe is fine." Dorelei took my hand and placed it on her belly. She smiled into my eyes. "I, however, find myself growing weary.”
Glancing around the hall, I realized that a number of folk had departed. Hyacinthe and Sibeal were gone; and the Lady Breidaia, too. Joscelin was coaxing Phèdre up the stair, the two of them engaged in some private banter. Others were, it seemed, prepared to spend the night in merriment, making the most of the Cruarch's hospitality.
"To bed?" I whispered.
Dorelei's dimples deepened. "Aye.”
"Imri!" Alais, flushed and sweating, intercepted us mid-escape. She'd been dancing, too, with Talorcan. "I forgot. I've a letter for you, from Mavros.”
"Mavros!" His name seemed like somewhat from a dream I'd forgotten. I glanced at Dorelei, eager to be alone with her, and saw my own desire reflected in her eyes. "Ah, well. Surely it can wait until morning?”
"I suppose." Alais was noncommittal. "'Tis your business. He's your cousin.”
"Tomorrow, then." I mounted the stair, tugging at Dorelei's willing hand as she ascended with me. "Tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There was no time to read Mavros' letter, on the morrow or the next day. There was simply too much to be done. After a sleepy-eyed Alais delivered it to me as promised, I tucked it away in my things. After the wedding, I thought, I would read it. Until then, 'twas easier not to think of home.
And to be sure, there was more serious business afoot.
For one thing, we had a long, private conference with Drustan and told him about the Maghuin Dhonn. Although he seemed somewhat distracted, he was troubled by the news.
"I'd almost rather hear they're trying to stir trouble among the Tarbh Cró again," he muttered. "At least it's easier to understand." Drustan sighed. "Clunderry has a strong garrison, but I'll ask Urist to select another twenty men and take command of it. He's got a good head on his shoulders, I trust him as much as anyone I've fought with. And you'll have the Lady Firdha in residence, too. Alais will be continuing her studies with her.”
"Can she—?" I gestured at my fetters of red yarn, remembering the dismissive way Aodhan had spoken of court bards.
"Yes, yes, of course," Drustan said absently. "Whatever's needful.”
"Are you certain?" I asked. "She was unwilling to speak of the Maghuin Dhonn.”
Drustan shrugged. "Ollamhs can be overly superstitious. I'll talk to her.”
"Is everything all right, my lord?" Dorelei asked. "We didn't wish to disturb you on the eve of our nuptials, but we thought you should know.”
"Yes, of course." The Cruarch of Alba heaved another sigh. " 'Tis a hard piece of news Stormkeep's master gave me today, that's all. Although I imagine the responsibility will fall to your generation in the end.”
"He's chosen not to train a successor, hasn't he?" I asked.
"I thought you knew," Drustan said wryly. "No mind, you'd have to be told sooner or later. I'll ask you to keep it silent for now. His decision won't be a popular one, and I'd rather not have it