Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [320]
There was silence in the hall.
"And now it is finished," Drustan said at length.
It had grown late enough that his words were fitting. One by one, guests left the great hall for their chambers. Clunderry was full to the rafters that night, but no one complained. I stayed to bid good evening to all of them, as did Dorelei's nearest kin. I watched Drustan speaking quietly with Phèdre and Joscelin on the far side of the hall.
"Have you talked to your father?" I asked Sidonie in a low voice.
"About us?" Sidonie frowned. "We've discussed it. He's of a mind to speak to you himself, later. I agreed to let him without intervening.”
"Is it bad?" I asked.
"No." Her frown didn't entirely vanish. "But it's not good, either.”
"You know, it's not as bad as I thought," Alais offered. "You, I mean; the two of you. Not Father, I've no idea what he said.”
"My thanks," I said wryly.
Alais ignored my tone. "The strangest part is seeing you being nice to one another.”
"Oh?" Sidonie raised her brows in amusement. "We're not always.”
It sounded perfectly innocent, and I knew perfectly well it wasn't.
My heart leapt again and a long-suppressed wave of desire rolled over me. I took a deep breath and willed my blood to subside. Alais looked suspiciously at her sister, but Sidonie's expression was guileless. I cleared my throat and changed the topic. "What of you and Talorcan?”
"When he went after Berlik, we decided to postpone the decision another year." Alais looked over at Talorcan, troubled. "No one knew what would happen. Now…" She shrugged, dropping her voice to a murmur. "I'm not sure.”
Sidonie and I exchanged a glance. For the first time, it well and truly struck me that if we wed, I would be inextricably bound to the political process that linked Alba and Terre d’Ange. She was Ysandre's heir; Terre d'Ange's problems were her problems, too. And her problems would be mine. As the Dauphine's husband, I would inherit a great deal more responsibility than I'd ever wanted.
What a piece of irony that was.
"We'll worry about it later, my heart," Sidonie said to Alais. "Tonight's for Dorelei.”
They waited until the last guests and family members had departed; then I bade them good night, lingering. Drustan stayed last of all, until it was only the two of us left in the hall. I thought he might speak to me then. He sat on one of the long benches, pouring the last dregs of a jar of uisghe into a cup.
"Shall I stay and talk with you, my lord?" I asked.
"No." His face looked tired beneath its woad mask. "Not tonight.”
I was weary, too. "Then with your permission, I'll retire.”
"As you will," he said, but when I made to go, Drustan called me back. "Imriel." I turned, and he fixed me with an impenetrable gaze. "We'll speak later, in Bryn Gorrydum. This isn't the time or the place. But I do want you to know that I'm grateful for what you did.”
I nodded. "Thank you, my lord.”
"Clunderry remains yours in name," Drustan said. "Will you keep it?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. "No. Let the deed revert to Lady Breidaia if she will have it; and if she will not, I ask you to hold it until you may bestow it on someone who loves this place as it deserves." I touched the torc around my neck. "I will always be honored to have been Imriel of Clunderry. But that was another life, my lord. Tonight it ended.”
Drustan nodded. "Good night, then.”
With that, I was dismissed. I made my way to the chamber I'd shared with Dorelei all those long months, our child growing inside her, me bound with Alban charms. By the dim light of a guttering lamp, I could see that everything had been preserved as it had been. Still, it felt very different; not least of all because I'd agreed to share it with Hugues and Ti-Philippe. They were asleep; Hugues on a straw pallet on the floor, Ti-Philippe sprawled on half the bed.
I was glad they were there, even if Hugues snored. There were too many memories in that room.