Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [189]
Nothing would, though.
Not even vengeance.
"I'll do my best, love," I whispered, touching the earth. Somewhere beneath Alba's soil my wife and unborn son rested. " 'Tis a hard thing you ask of me. I will see you avenged, that I swear. But I'll try not to let it consume me altogether." I swallowed my tears. "Not to let it make me bitter and twisted.”
I rose, feeling a little bit better. When I turned, I saw Sister Nehailah watching me. Dusk was falling, and her bright golden hair glowed. She didn't speak when I approached her, merely smiled with sorrow and compassion, touching my hand.
On the morrow, we set sail to cross the Straits.
It was a somber farewell. Not even a year ago, I'd arrived on Alban soil, a D'Angeline prince with a wife he didn't want, hiding my misery behind a smiling mask. I was leaving as a widowed Prince of Alba, and the heart that had weighed heavy as a stone last summer felt shattered and hollow.
Any other year, Drustan would have sailed with us, but this year he was delaying his visit to Terre d'Ange in order to stay abreast of the hunt for Berlik. He gave a packet of letters into Urist's keeping, then clasped my hand soberly. "I'll send word.”
I nodded. "As will we.”
His grip tightened on my hand. "You will always be family.”
I wondered if the Cruarch of Alba would say that if he knew his niece's last request was to send me home to his daughter. My eyes burned and I had to choke back a mad laugh. "Thank you, my lord.”
Alais was the hardest. She clung to me, hard enough to make my healing wounds ache. I ignored the pain and wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on her curly head. "Elua bless and keep you, little sister," I whispered. "Be safe and well.”
"Oh, Imri!" She pulled away and looked at me, tearstained. "You, too.”
There wasn't anything else to say.
We boarded the Cruarch's flagship. Urist had recruited a score of men, all members of Clunderry's garrison, including Kinadius, who had left Talorcan's search to accompany us. We nodded at one another. He would take half the men and begin searching in Azzalle, asking questions, while the rest of us went on to the City of Elua.
The rowers set to on the oars and the ship eased into the harbor. Our royal escort stayed, watching. Drustan stood behind Alais, his hands on her shoulders. In the distance behind them rose the walls of Bryn Gorrydum, draped with black for mourning. I stood at the railing with one hand raised in farewell, watching them dwindle.
Watching Alba dwindle.
I did weep, then, for the first time in days. Silent tears, running down my cheeks, mingling with the salt spray of the ocean. After a time—a long time, I think—Urist came over and patted my shoulder awkwardly with a hard, callused hand. "Rest, my lord. The healer said so.”
I had promised to obey.
I rested.
We sailed into Pointe des Soeurs the following morning. A month ago, my heart would have leapt at the sight of the shore of Terre d’Ange looming larger in my vision, the land stretching behind it. Now I felt numb.
Pointe des Soeurs had been a lonely fortress once. Like Bryn Gorrydum, it had grown a great deal. There was an escort awaiting us on the dock. I thought that they would be disappointed to learn that the Cruarch was not aboard, but I was wrong. Word had already been sent. During the long days I'd spent in my sickbed, there had been a great deal of correspondence back and forth across the Straits.
I knew that, of course, but all my thoughts had been focused on the hunt for Berlik. Somehow, I'd not given thought to the fact that all of Terre d'Ange knew of my loss. It made me feel vulnerable and exposed.
It didn't help matters that it was Bertran de Trevalion waiting to receive us. When I thought about it later, it made sense. Pointe des Soeurs lay within the duchy of Trevalion's holdings; he was a high-ranking young nobleman known to have been my friend.
No one knew, not even Bertran himself, that his mother had tried to have me killed.
On the dock, he greeted me with a sincere bow, sympathy written all over his open, earnest face. "Your