Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [50]
I took a long drink. "Joscelin, would you believe me if I told you you'd rather not know?”
"I would," he said. "Trouble is, I already do." When I didn't say anything, Joscelin continued. "According to Ti-Philippe, there's gossip among the Palace Guard that you've been dallying with one of the Dauphine's ladies-in-waiting," he said, and I relaxed. Joscelin raked me with a sharp gaze. "And the trouble with that, love, is that Phèdre doesn't believe it.”
"Oh," I said faintly. "Why ever not?”
Joscelin shrugged and sipped his ale. "Naamah's business. She's known the young lady's mother for a long time. Exactly what they've concocted between them, I couldn't say, except that Phèdre's certain the lady in question wouldn't engage in casual dalliance. And therefore, based on your strange and secretive behavior, my love, she has conceived the sort of outrageous notion that I would discredit in a heartbeat if I hadn't spent half my life watching Phèdre nó Delaunay's outrageous notions proved true.”
I looked away. "What makes you think it's casual?”
"I don't," he said. "Not by the way you're carrying on. I also don't think it's Amarante of Namarre you're mooning over." Joscelin waited until I looked reluctantly back at him. Puzzlement and disbelief were etched on his face as he lowered his voice to a scarce audible murmur. "Imriel…Sidonie?”
I groaned and put my head down on the table. "Oh, Joscelin!”
"Elua's Balls! It's true?”
I clutched my hair. "Yes.”
"Why?" He sounded as though he was trying not to laugh. "Name of Elua, Imri! Why?”
Dragging myself upright in my chair, I poured out the story to him, starting with last year's boar hunt, the spooked horse, and Sidonie's laughter. I'd not told anyone but Mavros, and once I started, the words tumbled out. Joscelin listened to me in a state of bemused awe, periodically glancing around to ensure that Emile's assurance of discretion was holding.
"Are you quite sure we're talking about the same person?" he asked dubiously as I rambled on about how passionate, uninhibited, and devastatingly funny she was. His voice dropped again. "Sidonie de la Courcel? The Dauphine of Terre d'Ange?”
"You don't know her," I said helplessly.
"So it seems." Joscelin refilled my cup. "You know, her mother has a fierce temper, and one rarely sees that in public. The women of House Courcel have learned to keep a sharp check on their emotions. I suppose…" He shook his head. "You do know this is a disaster in the making?”
"I know." I stared into my ale. "We both do.”
"Then why—”
"I can't help it!" I jerked my head up. "I can't.”
Joscelin sighed. He looked at me for a long time, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. "And are you planning to do aught foolish, love? Like break your word to the Queen in the matter of Alba?”
I'd thought about it. I thought about it every day. "No. I don't know.”
"All right." Joscelin swirled the ale in his cup. Elsewhere in the tavern, there were Tsingani laughing and chatting. Someone was playing a timbale. "Imriel, we will stand by you whatever you choose," he said in his direct manner. "Know that, but listen, too. You asked me once how I could bear it; knowing what Phèdre is. Knowing how different we are, knowing we're so ill suited it must make the gods laugh. Knowing it, and choosing it anyway. Do you remember what I told you?”
"I remember." I knew what he was hinting at, though I didn't much like it. "You said you'd tried doing without her.”
"Even so." There was sympathy in his summer-blue eyes. "Believe me, love, I know your childhood was stolen. I know that in some ways, you haven't been young since you were ten years old. This isn't one of them. You're very young, and so is she. She doesn't even gain her majority for, what? Two more years?”
"She's seventeen in a few weeks.”
"A little over a year, then." Joscelin put one gauntleted hand on my arm. "Imri, if it's real, it will endure.”
"How would you know?" I asked, then colored. Still, I kept going. "It's not the same, Joscelin! You left of your own will.”
"Indeed." He raised