Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [313]
A long way and a great deal.
And I thought, too, about how I'd given up on my quest. I'd been honest about that when I told the tale. Joscelin had laughed softly when I told him it galled me to think that neither of them had ever given up hope and accepted failure. He reminded me that he had done that very thing long ago in Skaldia, in Waldemar Selig's steading. That Phèdre had shamed him into persevering in much the same way that Berlik had goaded me.
Would you have come here with a humble heart if I had not?
I didn't think I would have; and in a strange way, I was glad I had. That part, I hadn't tried to explain to anyone. Phèdre would understand, I thought. But if I told anyone, it would be Sidonie. I didn't want secrets between us, and I didn't want to hold any part of myself back from her. And I thought, too, that she would understand. It was part of the shadow of guilt that lay between us for the secrecy and lack of faith that had set this all in motion. If I'd learned nothing else, I'd learned the value of truth and trust in matters of love.
And that, I owed to Dorelei.
So it was that I went to my berth that night with a humble heart. The waves held us up like a cradle, gently rocking. Safe. I fell asleep swiftly and slept soundly, and by the time I awoke the following morning, we were within sight of Alba's shore.
It still seemed too good to be true. The grass was lush and green with the spring rains, and the trees sported pale leaves. Near the coast, fishing boats bobbed. It was a clear day—Hyacinthe's doing, mayhap— and a blue sky arched overhead, sunlight sparkling on the waves.
Today, I felt…what?
Sadness and joy, commingled. There was so much I would have done differently if I had known what would come to pass; and yet, such things are never given to us to know. Not even the magicians of the Maghuin Dhonn, who were given a greater vision than most, were able to tease out the threads of the future without making a horrible, tangled mess of it.
And yet…
I'd done my best. I had tried. In the end, I had avenged Dorelei and given Berlik the redemption for which he yearned. They were two sides of the same coin; the bright mirror and the dark. I was bringing him home. I was bringing peace to her spirit.
My heart soared when first we glimpsed the fortress of Bryn Gorrydum, the city sprawled around it, the harbor lying before it like a pair of open arms. The wind shifted to drive us straight into its embrace. I felt a gladness at once bright and somber, powerful and strange. This time, it seemed the gods and goddesses of Alba and Terre d’Ange were in accord. I felt their presence in the leaping waves along the prow, in the bright sun that shone overhead, in the beat of the blood in my veins, urging me toward the Alban shore.
When I saw the reception awaiting us, I understood.
Of course there was a reception. All of us crowded into the prow, watching as the dock drew near. Hyacinthe was there with Sibeal; he must have brought word from the Stormkeep himself when we set sail. Drustan mab Necthana, his crimson cloak flapping in the breeze that bore us toward him. Alais was with him, and Breidaia and Talorcan, watching us approach.
And beside the Cruarch…
Sidonie.
Even at a great distance, I knew her. I saw the gleam of sunlight on her hair, and I knew. A spark of gold; the spark that had kindled happiness in me. The golden cord that bound us together tightened around my heart, the only bond I'd ever borne joyfully.
Urist nudged me. "Isn't that your girl?”
I didn't answer, my heart too full.
"I believe that would be the Dauphine of Terre d'Ange, sent to represent Queen Ysandre," Phèdre said in a careful tone.
I didn't need a warning to know that this was a state affair and not a lovers' reunion. I could read it in Sidonie's carriage. Her personal