Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [146]
I wondered if it was worth the cost.
On the morrow, we parted ways, saying our farewells in the courtyard. And whether it was because I was the one staying and not the one leaving, or because the charms that bound me blunted my emotions, for me this parting was easier than it had been when I'd gone to Tiberium.
"Look at you," Phèdre murmured, touching the torc around my neck. "A proper Alban prince.”
"I'm trying," I said.
"I know." She gazed at me, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I'm proud of you. Take care of yourself, love. And your family.”
"I'll do my best," I promised.
"Mind your footwork," Joscelin said. "And try not to get killed.”
I laughed. "I will.”
Accompanied by the D'Angeline honor guard that had escorted us to Innisclan and back, they departed for the harbor, where the Cruarch's own flagship would carry them to Terre d'Ange. As I watched them ride through the gates of the courtyard, I felt, for the first time, a hollow sense of abandonment.
"Are you all right, Imri?" Dorelei, standing beside me, slid her hand into mine.
"Yes." I took a deep breath and smiled at her. "You've never called me that before.”
"I'm sorry It's Alais' doing." She smiled back at me. "I won't if you don't like it.”
I squeezed her hand. "I like it.”
Our party wasn't a large one, but we were laden with all the tribute gifts from our wedding, and it took a while to get the wagons loaded and the journey under way. At last it was done, and we said our farewells to Drustan and Talorcan; a far less arduous affair, since Clunderry was a mere three days' ride from Bryn Gorrydum.
And then we were off.
Another journey, another destination. Alba was a beautiful land, but I was growing weary of traversing it; and weary, too, of being a guest in someone else's manor. I would be glad to stay in one place for a while and call it home.
For two days, we followed one of the old Tiberian roads, departing on the third day to continue on a smaller road of hard-packed dirt. Dorelei described Clunderry to Alais and me as we rode. It was her childhood home, and her face lit up when she spoke of it.
By all rights, the estate should have belonged to the Lady Breidaia; and so it had for many years. It was by her own request that it had been deeded to Dorelei and me. Breidaia had never aspired to land and titles, and she had administered Clunderry alone for the long years since her husband's death. She was eager to lay down the burden and assume an honorary role with no responsibilities save pottering in her gardens and watching the many grandchildren she hoped we would bear her thrive.
I was glad, since it made Dorelei happy.
We arrived on the morning of the fourth day. Everything was much as Dorelei had described it. The sparkling little Brithyll River wound through the fields, widening at one point to form a small, weedy lake. Clunderry Castle perched on a low rise not far from the lake, sturdy and squat, looking more welcoming than imposing. Outlying buildings with thatched roofs dotted the landscape, and farther upstream sat the mill, its sails turning lazily.
The fields to the south and east were given over to growing crops— wheat, barley, and hay, for the most part, and a small apple orchard. To the north, the same low stone fences we'd seen everywhere in Alba meandered over the hills, where scores of cattle grazed.
Beyond, westward, it was all taisgaidh land, wild and wooded. There were elaborate laws regarding hunting and foraging rights on sacred ground, all of which Dorelei and I were expected to know and administer.
And there on the verge of the wood was the ollamh's stone hut, where Firdha would take up residence, continuing to tutor Alais. There were elaborate protocols involved in seeing to an ollamh's every need, too.
Somewhere in the woods beyond, I knew, there were other places, sacred places. The oak grove where Dorelei had slept under the ollamh's tutelage, learning to read the secrets of her dreams. The ring