Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [145]
"You still fancy you love her?" he asked.
"No." I shook my head. "I'm sure of it.”
"And Sidonie?" he asked. "Does she feel the same?" I nodded. Joscelin sighed. "I hoped this would pass, Imri. I truly did.”
"Do you think I didn't?" I asked. "Do you think she didn't?”
"No." His mouth twisted humorlessly. "What of Dorelei? The hidden well whose depths you dream of plumbing? The other night, you told Phèdre you were happy. Was that a lie to set our minds at ease?”
"No. No, it wasn't." I searched for the words. "Joscelin, I am happy…but the me that's happy isn't entirely real. And Dorelei knows it as well as I do. Whatever's best for the both of us, and for the babe, we'll decide it together.”
Joscelin tilted his chin, his blue gaze searching the summer sky as if to find answers written in the scudding clouds. "You do have a knack for finding the most difficult paths, love," he murmured. "I swear to Elua, I've half a mind to snatch you from Alba and…" His voice trailed off.
"Take me on a journey to hide the pages of the Book of Raziel where no one in living memory might find them?" I suggested.
His brows shot up. "What makes you think that?”
I laughed. "Don't worry, I've said naught of it, nor will I. And as far as the letter goes …" I spread my hands. "Sidonie may well decide I've lost my wits altogether, and I wouldn't blame her for it. Mayhap it would be for the best.”
"Do you believe that?" Joscelin asked.
"No," I said.
There atop the windswept fortress of Bryn Gorrydum, we regarded one another. " 'Tis strange," Joscelin said softly. "I thought it was hard when you left for Tiberium, but 'tis harder to leave you than it was to let you go, Imri. When a year and a day have passed, and you've a child of your own, you may find you feel the same way.”
"I know." I swallowed. "I've made no promises I cannot keep and I have no false expectations. You'll see the letter delivered, though?”
"I will." Joscelin pried himself upright. "With assurances that you've not lost your wits." He hesitated. "Imriel, of all the women in the world, why Sidonie?”
I thought about it. "You know, I remember Eamonn telling me that Brigitta made him feel he wanted to be a better man. And you, you told me you began to fall in love with Phèdre when you were enslaved in Skaldia, when her courage put you to shame.”
Joscelin nodded. "I understand.”
"No, you don't." I smiled wryly. "I feel that way all the time, Joscelin. I feel that way about Dorelei, about Phèdre—I feel that way about you. Eamonn, Drustan, Grainne …Name of Elua, I spend far too much of my life feeling that way, and when I don't, it's because I feel like I'd like to kill someone, like Barquiel L'Envers. With Sidonie…" I shrugged. "I don't. I just feel like myself, truly myself. And that it's a fine thing to be. And I think she feels the same way. I don't know why; truly, I don't. I only know it's true.”
He looked at me for a long moment. "I think I do begin to understand.”
"Good," I said. "Mayhap you can explain it to me one day.”
So it was done, and I felt at once glad and guilty. The packet of letters was hidden away in Joscelin and Phèdre's trunks. They would leave, bearing it—and Elua only knew what else—far from Alba's shores.
And I would stay.
We spent our last night together, there in the fortress of Bryn Gorrydum. With the boisterous clan-lords gone, it seemed a gentler, more pleasant place. 'Twas a place, I thought, that could use more of a woman's presence. I watched Drustan grow warmer and more relaxed with so many of the women of his family in attendance. I'd not given much thought to the plight of Drustan mab Necthana, the Cruarch of Alba. For some eight or nine months of the year, depending on the weather, he and Ysandre were parted. If he took lovers here in Alba, 'twas done discreetly, for I never heard of it. Of a surety, Drustan had no official consort or lover.
Nor did Ysandre.
They'd chosen that, the two