Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [4]
Her lips twitched. "Late enough, according to messire Joscelin. He thought you might want a bite of luncheon.”
"Luncheon?" My belly rumbled. "Tell them I'll be down directly.”
No one mentioned the letters when I appeared, still yawning, and took a seat at the table. Joscelin gave me a quick assessing glance, and Phèdre merely smiled at me. Ti-Philippe and Hugues were there, bickering good-naturedly about who had neglected to fill an empty charcoal-bin in the garrison.
"I thought we might spar later," Joscelin offered after I'd filled my plate. "I'm out of practice since you've been gone.”
Ti-Philippe snorted. "You?”
"Well." Joscelin looked mildly at him. "Somewhat, yes.”
I didn't believe it any more than Ti-Philippe did. Hugues laughed. " 'Alone at dawn the Cassiline stands,'" he declaimed. " 'His longsword shining in his hands. Across the cobbled stones he glides. Through the air his bright blade slides' …Oh, all right," he added as Joscelin rolled his eyes. "I'll stop.”
I laughed, too. Hugues was kindhearted and loyal to the bone, but his poetry was notoriously dreadful. "I'd like that," I said to Joscelin. "Indeed, why not now?”
He glanced at Phèdre.
"There was a messenger from House Trevalion this morning," she said quietly "The Lady Bernadette wishes you to call upon her at your earliest convenience.”
"I see." I nodded. "Well, good.”
Ti-Philippe raised his brows. "A clandestine affair? That's swift work, young Imriel. You do know she's old enough to be your mother?”
"Hmm?" I scarce heard the comment. This wasn't going to be an encounter I relished, but it was necessary and I'd be glad to have the matter resolved. I was weary of being persecuted for my mother's sins.
"It's not what you think. It's ... a family matter, that's all. She is my cousin, you know.”
"Ah, well." He grinned. "That never stopped anyone.”
"Shall I go with you?" Joscelin asked.
"No," I said slowly. "It's …somewhat I'd rather do alone.”
He gave me a long, hard look. "All right, then.”
After our luncheon was concluded, I borrowed Phèdre's study to make a fair copy of a letter in my possession. Not one of my mother's, this one. It was brief and inelegant, scrawled on a single sheet of parchment, a signature and a smeared thumbprint affixed at the bottom. It had been written by a man named Ruggero Caccini. In it, he divulged the details of his arrangement with Lady Bernadette de Trevalion, who had paid him a considerable sum of money to ensure that a deadly mishap befell me in the city of Tiberium.
I'd found out about it. And I'd extorted the letter from him using a combination of blackmail and bribery.
I daresay my mother would have been proud.
I had the Bastard saddled and rode to the Palace. There was a sharp chill in the air, a harbinger of winter. It made the Bastard restless. I kept him on a tight rein and he chafed under it, tossing his head and champing at the bit. He was a good horse, though. Tsingani-bred, one of the best. I patted his red-speckled hide, thinking about Gilot and how much he'd wanted the spotted horse we'd seen together in Montrève the day I learned my mother had vanished.
I wished I'd bought it for him, now.
Gilot was dead. He'd been one of Montrève's men-at-arms, the youngest of the lot and the closest thing to a friend I had among them. He'd gone with me to Tiberium, where I'd been a plague and a trial to him. He was killed in Lucca. He'd gone to protect me, and I brought him home in a casket. It was only two days ago that I had arrived in the City; two days ago that we had buried him. I missed him.
At the Palace, I gave the Bastard over to an ostler with the usual warnings. The footman on duty swept me a low bow.
"Prince Imriel," he said. "How may I serve your highness?”
"I believe Lady Bernadette de Trevalion is expecting me," I said.
He bowed again. "Of course.”
I followed him down the marble halls. The Palace was a vast place. The City of Elua is the heart of Terre d'Ange, and the Court is the heart of the City. Betimes it seems half the peers of the realms maintain quarters