Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [71]
"I thought you could use an outing with a kinsman," he said blithely, adding to Dorelei, "You don't mind, my lady, do you?”
Her voice was quiet. "No, of course not.”
My heart soared. I was so glad, I kissed her farewell with genuine good spirits. On the ride to Lord Sacriphant's townhouse, I badgered Mavros. "It's a pretext, isn't it? Tell me it's a pretext! Did you manage to spirit Sidonie there?”
"Yes to the first, no to the second," he muttered. "Elua! Remind me never to fall in love.”
My soaring heart faltered. "What, then?”
Mavros eyed me darkly. "Nothing you'll like.”
He was right. It was Amarante who was waiting at the townhouse, her expression somber. I folded my arms. "Tell me.”
"I have a gift for you, your highness." She handed me a small leather-bound book trimmed in gilt. "From Sidonie.”
I opened it and glanced at the frontispiece. The book was a collection of letters exchanged by a pair of famous lovers, Remuel L'Oragen of Azzalle and Claire LeDoux of Namarre. They'd met in their youth and been parted by their feuding Houses, carrying on a love affair through letters that spanned a score of years, wedding at last in the middle of their lives. "I see." I closed the book with a snap. "Very apt. Is that all?”
Amarante's face was a touch pale. "Sidonie thinks it would be best if you don't see one another, at least for a while. With her mother's blessing, she's decided to make a pilgrimage to Naamah's shrine in Namarre and abide there for a few weeks.”
"Praying for guidance?" I asked coldly.
"Mayhap." Her tone was even. "Prince Imriel, you're behaving badly, and Sidonie is miserable. She's quarrelled with Alais, who is very upset and knows a good deal more than one might wish. And then there is the matter of Dorelei, who is becoming manifestly unhappy and deserves better from all of us, myself included. I think it is for the best. And I think it would be for the best if you found a way to remove yourself from the Court before Sidonie's return.”
"Oh, so says the oracle of Naamah!" Bitterness made me cruel. "You know, Amarante, you may play at the role of priestess, but whoever your mother may be, you're naught but a Court attendant enjoying a taste of royal favoritism.”
She didn't react as I expected. " 'Tis hard to lose the habits of a lifetime, my lord.”
I blinked, uncomprehending.
"You do know, of course," Mavros drawled, lounging on a couch, "that Amarante was trained from birth to be a Priestess of Naamah and the presumptive heir to her mother's position. She's already served as an acolyte. Why, she was a mere year away from taking her vows when she accepted the invitation to become a lowly Court attendant instead!”
"You were? You did? Why?" I blinked again. "And how do you know?" I added to Mavros.
"Because I thought this was more important," Amarante said.
Mavros clicked his tongue. "Imri, Imri! Everyone knows no priest nor priestess of Naamah may swear full vows without spending a year in her service. And I know because I asked." He sighed. "It sweetens the bitter pill of rejection to hear, 'Oh, Lord Mavros, if ever I am freed from the inexplicable clutches of the heir to the realm, I will dedicate myself to Naamah's service and you shall be my first patron!'“
"You said that?" I asked Amarante, feeling stupid.
Her lips twitched. "No.”
"She might, though," Mavros offered in a helpful tone. "Part of it's true.
I shoved Mavros' booted feet off the couch and sat down, burying my head in my hands, still clutching the book of letters. "Why are you doing this to me?”
"Because you bade me take care of her," Amarante said quietly. "And I am trying.”
"Because you're being an ass," Mavros added. "Remind me—”
"Never to fall in love," I muttered. "Truly, don't.”
"Imriel." Amarante sighed. "Believe it or not, I am trying to help. You need time apart, sooner rather than later. You need to treat