Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [72]
"I know," I said. "I know, I know!”
"Then do it," she said simply.
"Hear, hear," Mavros added.
I raised my head to glare at him. "Why do you care?”
"Oh, mayhap because the honor of House Shahrizai is at stake." He prodded my legs with one booted toe. "Family is family. It works both ways, cousin. If you wanted to bring this whole mess crashing down on your heads a-purpose, most of us would stand by you. But it seems the young lady has chosen a wiser course, and I'd rather see her wishes honored for all our sakes." Mavros rubbed his chin. "Strong-willed little minx, isn't she?”
"So it seems," I said shortly.
Mavros grinned at me. "You're put out. Come on, let's get you good and drunk and go to the Night Court. Trust me, it will help." He swung himself to his feet and bowed to Amarante. "My thanks, my lady. I'll take him from here.”
She knit her brows. "Don't let him—”
"No, no." Mavros shook his head. "I know what I'm doing.”
"All right." Amarante hesitated. "This wasn't an easy choice for Sidonie," she said to me. "Please don't make it harder.”
I looked away, fiddling with the book she'd given me. "This doesn't mean she wants us to wait twenty years, I hope.”
"Oh, I think one will suffice." An unlikely lilt of humor warmed her voice. "By Naamah's grace, I hope so!”
It made me smile despite myself. "Are you that eager to be freed, my lady?”
"No." Amarante stooped and kissed me. "Not really.”
Mavros watched her go, eyes narrowed, tapping his bottom lip in thought. "Elua's Balls! You know, I really do like that girl. That hair, that mouth. What I wouldn't give to see her on her knees, wearing nothing but a leather collar, sucking my—" He shook himself. "What a damnable waste. Whose idea was it to throw her into Sidonie's bed?”
My temples ached. "Phèdre's, I think.”
"Phèdre's!" He shot me a startled look.
"Don't ask. I don't know. She has a knack for that sort of thing." I shoved the little book of letters inside my shirt. "Come on, let's go out.
True to his word, Mavros got me good and drunk in Night's Doorstep. When he bade the carriage-driver to take us to Valerian House, I didn't object. In a haze of wine and pent-up emotion, I was ready, filled with residual resentment and self-pity, and too drunk to care about my demons. If I couldn't have who I wanted, at least I could have what I wanted. In the receiving room, wavering on my feet, I began to tell the Dowayne my desires.
"No, no." Mavros shook his head at me. "We're not here for that.”
I stared at him. "We're not?”
Didier Vascon, the Dowayne, bowed low. "Your private Showing awaits, my lords," he murmured. "All has been arranged.”
"Oh," I said foolishly. "When did you …?”
Mavros clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I have my ways. Violent pleasures and an angry heart are a deadly mixture, cousin mine, and yours is too angry by far. Betimes 'tis better to let the eyes feast until the heart is purged lest you do harm unwitting. Come and see.”
I followed, stumbling, as the Dowayne led us down hushed corridors to a private viewing chamber. It was warm and dimly lit, and hung all about with erotic tapestries. There was a small staging area with a pair of reclining couches placed before it. Four adepts waited there, still as statues. Two women, two men. One pair was from Valerian House, kneeling abeyante with lowered heads. One pair was from Mandrake House, faces hidden behind domino masks. The man held a brass-tipped flogger, thongs trailing over the top of one glossy boot. The woman held a tawse paddle with a slit down the middle. From time to time, she twitched it against her thigh. Every time she did, one of the Valerian adepts whimpered.
Mavros stretched his length on one of the couches with a luxuriant sigh, folding his hands behind his head. "A pair to attend," he said to Didier Vascon. "Unclad, if you please. And mayhap a fortified wine?”
"Of course, my lord." The Dowayne bowed low, beckoning with a subtle gesture.
A pair of adepts appeared, naked and unabashed. The male