Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [326]
I took a gulp of fiery liquid. "I know, my lord. I know what my mother did.”
' 'Tis one thing to know it, and another to live through it," Drustan said quietly. "This land is my heart and soul. I love it beyond all telling. If one of my clan-lords betrayed Alba in such a manner, I would raze the very earth on which he walked to purify the land of his touch. I would know no peace until he was destroyed utterly. I'm not D'Angeline. I do not share the profound depths of Ysandre's horror at the thought of Melisande Shahrizai's son wedding her heir …but I understand it, all too well. No force on earth can diminish the shock of that betrayal. It goes deeper than words. And for that reason, out of respect for my wife, I cannot give you my blessing.”
There wasn't much I could say in reply. I refilled our cups and drank.
"Do you understand?" Drustan asked.
"Yes." I set down my cup. "I do, my lord. But 'tis a piece of irony. It was Ysandre herself who fought so hard to see me found. To heal the rifts within the realm and House Courcel with love and forgiveness." I smiled bitterly. "What are Sidonie and I doing if not that very thing? Of a surety, Ysandre had no qualms about letting Melisande Shahrizai's son wed your sister's daughter when it suited her political needs. What do you call that if not hypocrisy, my lord?”
"I'm not defending it, Imriel." To his credit, Drustan looked disturbed. "But this isn't a matter of reason. All the reason in the world cannot change her heart.”
"A man's heart may change in a day," I said, thinking about what Adelmar of the Frisii had said when I'd challenged Berlik's sincerity as a pilgrim. He'd spoken sardonically, but as it happened, he had been right. "What might change Ysandre's, my lord?”
Drustan shook his head. "That, I fear, you must discover for yourself.”
I gazed at him for a long moment. "Will you give us your blessing if I do?”
"I will." His voice was firm.
"Then I'll find a way," I said simply.
He drank the last of the uisghe in his cup, then rose and extended his hand. I stood, and we clasped hands across the table. "I pray you do.”
I made my way up the stairs to my bedchamber. I'd carried Dorelei up those stairs on our wedding night, to the very same chamber that Sidonie and I had been given to share. The thought gave me a pang, but not enough to deter me. I murmured a prayer to Dorelei's spirit, asking her forgiveness as I pushed open the door.
A single candle was burning low on the bedside table, guttering in a pool of wax. Sidonie lifted her head from the pillow, lying propped on one arm. Her hair was loose, honey-gold locks spilling over her creamy shoulders. I stood in the doorway and gazed at her, the tide of desire rising in my veins. A faint smile touched her lips. "Well?”
"Not good," I said. "But not bad, either.”
She turned back the covers. "Come here.”
I went.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Once again, we made our farewells. I had a long talk with Alais before we departed, just the two of us. I knew Sidonie had spoken to her, too, and later we would discuss it, but I wanted time alone with Alais. She was the sister of my heart, and in many ways, my oldest friend. If she hadn't been there after Dorelei's death, I wasn't sure I'd have found the will to recover.
We climbed up one of the watchtowers to the parapet of Bryn Gorrydum, empty and windswept. It was one of the few places where one could talk undisturbed. For a time, we simply strolled together.
Alais had changed. How not? She was seventeen, a year older than when I'd left her. It wasn't just age, though. Alba had changed her. She was at home here in a way she'd never been in Terre d'Ange. And Dorelei's death had changed her. She had been a serious child with a charming streak of spontaneity, then a prickly adolescent. Now, she was a thoughtful young woman.
"I worry about you," I told her.
"Me?" Alais flashed a smile at me. "You're the one draws trouble wherever you go.”
"No good comes of disobeying Blessed