Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [171]
It was mayhap a week after the Day of Misrule that I felt the babe move myself for the first time; a slight flutter against my palm as I massaged flaxseed oil into her tight skin.
"Oh," I said, startled. "Oh!”
Dorelei laughed. "You felt it, then?”
"I did." I marveled at it. "I really did. Elua! Do you not find it passing strange to think there's a little person in there?”
"Very much so," she agreed.
Betimes we made love, carefully. It was most comfortable for her to ride astraddle of me, rocking slowly, her burgeoning belly resting on my abdomen. Those were the times I was glad of my bindings. I felt filled with infinite patience, infinite tenderness. I liked to watch Dorelei take her pleasure, her face flushed, black hair clinging to skin damp with sweat. In those moments, I felt my heart full to bursting, and she seemed very beautiful to me.
We spoke of the future, at least in terms of Alba.
We didn't speak of Sidonie.
Not directly, at least. Dorelei made me promise, one night after we'd made love—one of the last times before the discomfort began to outweigh the pleasure—that I would return to Terre d'Ange by the summer's end. Not long ago, I'd have leapt at the offer; now, since I'd felt the babe move, it seemed harder to promise.
"What if you need me here?" I asked.
"I don't." Her gaze was direct. "Imriel, if you wanted to stay of your own will, nothing would make me happier. But…" She lifted the croonie-stone from my throat. "Your will's not entirely your own, is it?”
"No," I admitted softly.
Dorelei smiled sadly. "When you come back, I'll know it is.”
"I will," I said. "I promise.”
"I believe you. I'll always believe you." She let go the croonie-stone and twined a lock of my hair around her fingers. "I hope the babe has your hair," she mused. "Look how it curls. I always wanted mine to do that. Though if I had to choose, I'd like her to have your eyes.”
"Or him," I reminded her.
"Or him." Her dimples flashed. "A pretty lad with sea-blue eyes …”
She fell silent. It was there, then, between us. I remembered where I'd heard the phrase. Ferghus, the harpist. Tell me, lass, do you love him? The pretty lad with the sea-blue eyes and another's name carved on his heart?
"Dorelei…" I whispered.
She shuddered. "It's going to be terribly complicated, isn't it? When you go home?”
I nodded slowly. It was.
"Will you promise to take care of yourself?" Dorelei asked. She laughed and sniffled all at once. "I don't want to lose you altogether.”
"You won't," I promised. "Never.”
For ten days in late winter, it snowed steadily, until the snow was hip-deep in places. I put Urist's garrison to work shoveling paths between the cow-byres and the barns where the dried hay was stored, working alongside them myself. It helped break the monotony, and the physical labor felt good. We were all growing lax for lack of exercise.
I kept up the discipline of my Cassiline training, though. The folk of Clunderry no longer stared and giggled, reckoning it merely a harmless eccentricity on my part. A couple of the younger guards—Kinadius and Uven—had grown intrigued and asked me to teach them. I did my best, but I didn't have Joscelin's patience, and 'tis a discipline best learned young. Still, we whittled practice-blades out of wood, and betimes held mock bouts in the hall. It helped pass the time and it kept me sharp.
After the heavy snow, the weather changed. Winter eased its grip. The days began to grow longer and milder and the deep drifts of fluffy snow dwindled into heavy, sodden masses. Children and young people were given license to race around outdoors, flinging snowballs at one another before the snow vanished altogether.
Spring was on its way.
With the harbingers of spring came an unexpected visit from Prince Talorcan. He appeared unannounced at the gates of Clunderry, accompanied by a score of men.
I offered him a fulsome welcome. Most of Clunderry was delighted to see him, especially the Lady Breidaia