Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [46]
"Politics." Sidonie tasted my throat. "You want to talk politics?"
“I'm curious.”
"Jealous?" She bit my earlobe. "You don't have the right to be.”
"I know." I gathered her closer, sliding my arms up her back and sinking my hands into her hair. It was true, we fit together as though our bodies were made for one another. I'd never felt that with anyone else. This was slow and languorous and wonderful, and I didn't want it to end. I wanted to stay inside her, holding her. "I'm curious, that's all.”
"Because," Sidonie murmured, punctuating her words with kisses, "it shows good faith on our part. And because Parliament will be sufficiently relieved when I refuse the Sultan's suit, they'll be more inclined to agree to the reduction in import fees despite my uncle's opposition, which is what Mother wants." She lifted her head, black eyes languid and amused. "Does that answer your question?”
"Mm-hmm." I thrust into her, watching her eyelids flutter again. For some reason, it was perversely arousing to hear her discuss matters of state while I made love to her. "You know, I could envision spending the rest of my life—”
"Don't say it." She touched my lips. "Please, don't.”
Until that moment, I hadn't been sure that what Sidonie was feeling cast the same fearsome shadow in her heart that I felt in mine. But I saw the pain surface and I knew. We gazed at one another, face-to-face, and saw the vast, impending hurt that awaited us reflected in one another's eyes.
"Too late," I said quietly.
Something else surfaced in her expression; the cool determination with which she faced down whispers in the Court and charted her course to the throne. Sidonie rolled onto her back, pulling me atop her with agile strength. I propped myself on my arms above her. The pins had fallen out of her hair, spilling it over the pillows. "Then let's make it worthwhile," she said, locking her heels behind my buttocks.
I did my best to oblige.
Chapter Ten
That winter passed too quickly.
For days on end, I forgot all the things that should have absorbed me. I managed to tend to my Alban studies and I endeavored to learn more about issues of statecraft I'd neglected throughout my tenure as a Prince of the Blood. I consulted with the Queen regarding my upcoming nuptials, which filled me with vague dread. Everything else—the Unseen Guild, the mysterious Maghuin Dhonn, my vanished mother—I forgot.
Sidonie.
We didn't speak of the future, but every stolen moment we could snatch, we spent together. It was never enough. I always wanted more. I wanted to make love to her, and I wanted to talk with her. I wanted to talk about politics and philosophy and what it meant to be good. I wanted to talk about everything under the sun, the way Eamonn and I used to do. I wanted to talk about the endless ways she surprised me.
Sometimes we did. I kept my promise and told her about being abducted, about Daršanga and the Mahrkagir's zenana, and what I had endured there. I told her more than I'd ever told anyone except Eamonn and Phèdre.
"The worst part was that he made us complicit in it," I said without looking at her. "It happened a lot. There was a girl from Ch'in who displeased him. I never knew her name, but she had beautiful hair, hair to her waist. She used to hide her nakedness behind it in the festal hall." I gazed into the distance. "The Mahrkagir grew impatient at it. He gave me a blunt knife and bade me shear her. He said if I didn't do it, he'd do it himself and take her scalp with it.”
Sidonie made a sound deep in her throat.
"So I did." My palms were sweating at the memory. I rubbed them on my thighs. "I hacked away her beautiful hair and laid it in his hands. Then he put the knife to my throat and bade her plait her own hair or watch me die slow. When she was done …" I took a deep breath. "He throttled her with it and made me watch. Took her by force and throttled her, so he could feel her die under him. He liked that.”
I told her how I'd gotten the scar