Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [67]
Several hundred people I couldn't have cared less about cheered. Dorelei mab Breidaia, now my wife, raised her face to mine. Dark eyes, Cruithne eyes.
Wrong, all wrong.
Not the ones I loved.
Still, I closed my eyes and kissed her. A chaste kiss, by D'Angeline standards. I didn't love her. I didn't want her. I would do my best to be kind to her. Cheers, erupting. Another pelting of petals. Ysandre's face was happy, Drustan's woad-masked face was happy. Elua, I was sweltering! Overhead, the sun blazed. I tugged at my collar.
It was done.
I looked at Sidonie. Although it bore no markings, her delicate face was a mask, too; smooth and perfect and unreadable. She reached into a basket Amarante held for her and grasped a handful of rose petals, tossing them high in the air. They fell all around us in a gentle shower, settling in our hair. Dorelei laughed with delight, unaware of the silent message I read in the gesture. I closed my eyes again, briefly, hearing Sidonie's voice in a sunlit room.
The lover showers kisses on the face of the beloved…
Elua, but it hurt.
The Queen clapped her hands together. "Let us celebrate!”
More than anything, I wished that day that there were no festivities following the wedding rites. I wished we could have departed immediately afterward; for Alba, for Montrève, for Jebe-Barkal. Anywhere but here. But this was Terre d’Ange and because the Queen had decreed it, there must be a fête, lavish and interminable. The silk pavilions must be erected, this time filled with long tables lined with chairs, laid with white linen and set with gleaming dishes.
Servants circulated with flagons of cool white wine. The sun crept across the sky with infinitesimal slowness. I stood sweating and drinking wine, receiving the well-wishes of those guests not deemed sufficiently important to attend the dinner. Dorelei stayed at my side, overwhelmed by the unrelenting attention.
At last the lower rim of the sun's disk slipped below the edge of the western horizon and the worst of the day's heat began to dissipate. Palace servants began lighting the lamps and bringing forth an endless stream of platters.
I remember very little of that meal, save for the tremendous effort it took to remain courteous; though in response to what, I couldn't have said. I heard words that held no meaning for me and felt my lips move in reply, uttering equally meaningless pleasantries. I laughed politely at jests and clapped politely at toasts. The food I ate had no taste; the wine I drank had no effect. Inside, I felt empty.
Afterward, there was music and dancing. I danced with my new bride. My wife. Her fingers trembled in mine and her wide-set gaze searched my face, filled with uncertainty. I smiled reassuringly at her.
I danced with Alais, who had little to say to me.
I danced with Phèdre, who said quietly, "I'm proud of you.”
I danced with Amarante, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of Maslin in his lieutenant's attire offering Sidonie a glass of cordial, the lamplight catching his fair hair. For the first time that night, I felt a spark of anger in my breast. "How long do you think before she takes him into her bed?" I asked in a low voice.
Amarante followed my gaze. "Longer than you think, my lord," she murmured. "And not as long as I'd like.”
"Jealous?" I asked grimly.
"No." She gave me a long, level look. "I think she's going to hurt him quite badly.”
"He's a grown man, let him take his chances." For some reason, her calm, reasonable words fanned my anger. "Name of Elua, Amarante! What about you? Do you care so little for her that you don't even fear getting hurt?”
Her green eyes flashed with rare emotion. "I care a great deal, actually. Love's not always a raging tempest, Imriel. It can be a safe harbor, too. I value Sidonie's friendship and trust above all else. I take neither lightly and I do not expect to lose them.”
I sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just—”
"I know," Amarante said.
"A safe harbor," I mused. "Surely even your waters must get ruffled at times.”
"Oh, well." A smile