Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [194]
"For a man torn apart by a bear," Urist added.
The footman's brows twitched. "Yes…I, um. Yes. We heard. I'll send for the Queen's chirurgeon.”
"Later," I said.
"Very good." He inclined his head. "I'll alert her majesty. Shall I tell her you're in your quarters?”
I stared at the open door of the Palace behind him, at the two Palace Guardsmen flanking it, upright and splendid in their Courcel blue livery, at the gleaming marble beyond. I hadn't been sure what I'd do when I arrived until this very moment. "If you like.”
He blinked at me, uncomprehending. I walked past him, walked into the Palace. Urist and his men fell in behind me.
It was still quiet this early. We'd risen before the dawn; Urist liked to travel light and swift. There were servants moving efficiently from the kitchens to various quarters, carrying covered trays from beneath which the aroma of food seeped. They shot startled glances in our direction. There were a few very late, very drunk revelers in the Hall of Games who didn't notice our passage. Most of the salons were empty. Our footsteps echoed in the marble halls.
At the foot of the sweeping staircase that led to the royal quarters, I put my hand on the polished mahogany railing and paused, gazing upward at the gilded fretting on the balcony above. She was up there.
Urist stood at my shoulder. "Not going to your own room, are you?”
"No." I turned to face him squarely "Our paths part here for a day or so. The Master of Chambers should be about shortly to see you're given proper lodging, I'm sure the footman will have summoned him." I extended my hand. "I'll send word in short order regarding our return to Azzalle. Urist, I cannot thank you enough for your service.”
He folded his arms, ignoring my hand. "Like to be trouble, is there?”
"I've no idea," I said honestly.
He shrugged. "Then we'll guard your back until you do.”
I gazed at him. I could see the fault-line; the old, old guilt over his brother's death. I could see loyalty, pride, and stubbornness. Urist bore my scrutiny unflinching, and every man of Clunderry's garrison present stood behind him, silent and unmoving.
"All right." My eyes stung. "Thank you.”
It seemed to take a long time to climb the wide marble staircase. I could feel the exertion straining my wounds; or mayhap it was my heart pounding in my breast as though to burst free of my ribcage. My chest ached. All the weight of the world it seemed I'd set down when my bindings were cut had returned, trebled.
Grief. Guilt. Longing.
There was a maidservant slipping through the door to Sidonie's chambers, carrying an empty tray. She paused to flirt with the guard on duty. I saw the guard's face change as he saw us approach, my Cruithne and I. He looked dumbstruck. He looked even more dumbstruck when I walked past him and knocked on the door.
"Prince …Prince Imriel?" he stammered. "You can't…her highness…”
Urist interposed himself between us.
I opened the door to Sidonie's chambers.
It struck me hard. Amarante was there in the salon, coming to answer my knock. The blood drained from her face. She took a sharp breath, shook her head, and pointed wordlessly.
I walked through the salon.
Sidonie was standing in her sunlit dressing chamber. Her honey-gold hair was coiled in a coronet, a few locks loose on her shoulders. Her gown was a pale gold satin brocade. The stays hadn't been laced yet, trailing down her back.
Our eyes met.
Hers filled with tears, black and shining.
Ah, Elua.
I walked to her in a daze. My legs gave way beneath me. I sank to my knees, pressing my face against her, wrapping my arms around her waist. Her arms enfolded me, holding me tight and hard, hands clasping my head. We stayed that way for a long, long time. There was noise in the hallway, voices. Cruithne and D'Angeline. I didn't care. Nothing else mattered.
"Oh, Imriel!" Sidonie's voice, breaking. "I am so, so sorry.”
I lifted my face to gaze at her. "I know.”
Tears, streaming down her cheeks. "I keep thinking …if we had been honest, if I'd been braver…It wouldn't have