Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [297]
"You're not a diplomat," I pointed out to him.
"I might be." Maslin looked pensive. "I do believe I've come to like it here. Do you suppose Tadeuz Vral would let me stay for a time?”
"Not if he knows you're making love to his prospective bride," I said.
Maslin made a dismissive gesture. "He doesn't. And he won't. Katya's not a fool. She'd throw me over to marry him if it came to it, but it might not." He cocked his head. "You know, there are half a dozen girls trying to throw themselves at you. Have you not noticed?”
I shrugged. "I'm not interested.”
"Why?" He looked genuinely curious. "Are you keeping chaste?”
I hadn't thought about it in those terms. "Mayhap.”
"I didn't think you were such a Cassiline." Maslin grinned. "I hope you're not expecting Sidonie to return the favor. Because I will tell you in all honesty, my friend, I strongly doubt it.”
A memory struck me; Sidonie sitting upright in our borrowed bed and shaking out her love-tangled locks, smiling sidelong at me, amused at my slowness to perceive what should have been obvious. Anyway, Amarante doesn't sleep here very often. No apology, no hint of self-consciousness. She had leaned down to kiss me, the tips of her breasts brushing my chest, her sun-shot hair falling around my face.
Elua knows why, but that was the first time I'd felt truly at peace with myself and who I was. Who we were, Sidonie and I, apart and together.
It was the first time I'd told her I loved her.
"That makes you smile?" Maslin observed wryly.
"In its own way," I said.
"Gods above," he said in wonderment. "You do love her.”
I laughed.
Of a surety, it was true; I hadn't gone so long without love since I'd been sixteen years old and gave my virginity to an adept of Balm House. But I hadn't been keeping chaste a-purpose. Some of it was due to a desire to honor Dorelei's memory. It hadn't been a year since her death. She'd extracted a promise from Urist and sent me to Sidonie's side for love's sake. Anything else would feel like a betrayal. And in truth, I didn't want anyone else. Not here, not now. Elua knows, that might change one day. It wasn't that I was immune to the promptings of desire; far from it. But I wanted more.
And whatever Maslin might say, I didn't think Sidonie was engaging in dalliance, either. I knew my girl. If she was engaged in a contest of wills with her mother, there was no way she was going to provide Ysandre any fodder with which to question the depth and seriousness of her feelings for me. There was Amarante, of course; but that was different. Amarante had been with her for a long time, longer than I had. And without impulsive anger firing her blood, I daresay even Ysandre would be circumspect about speaking ill of the daughter of the High Priestess of Naamah. I hoped so, anyway.
Elua, I wanted to go home.
The pilgrims came on foot, trickling into Vralgrad, straining the city to bursting. They didn't look overjoyed to be there. They looked sullen, tired, and defeated. I pitied them, although I had to own, I was grateful when the date for their oath-taking drew nigh.
It was a grand show of pageantry. Tadeuz Vral was no fool. He meant to dazzle them, as well as us, with a show of might and majesty; both his and Yeshua's.
The ceremony was held in the new temple, the one with the gilded domes and spires. We were given what was ostensibly a place of honor in the wings at the foot of the dais, alongside the lesser princes of the realm and their families.
The temple itself was vast and splendid, most notable on the interior for its frescoes. They were so new the colors fairly sang, bright and vivid. The style was simple and direct, but rendered with strong lines and flat expanses of color. On the side wall to the right were images from the life of Yeshua ben Yosef as depicted in the Brit Khadasha, and on the left, images of noble soldiers I guessed were meant to represent the Hundred Martyrs, along with a few others I didn't recognize.