Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [74]
She nodded. "I know.”
"You do?" I blinked. "How?”
For a long moment, she didn't answer. "I asked Alais," she said at length. "You know, I'm perfectly aware that this is a marriage of politics. I didn't expect you to love me, and I didn't expect you to be faithful to me. But I hoped, at least, that there could be honesty between us. At first I thought it was me, that I was distasteful to you.”
"You're not—”
Dorelei held up her hand, forestalling me. "But you can be so charming sometimes, kind and funny. And I thought some of it was real. Alais thought so, too. She says you have a good heart. So I thought it must be because of what you suffered, like you warned me." I didn't say anything and she continued. "But then it seemed like there was always someplace else you'd rather be, someone else you were always looking for, and I began to wonder. And so I asked Alais.”
I felt a chill in my veins. "What did Alais say?”
"Alais turned a lot of strange colors," she said steadily. "And told me to ask you. I didn't want to, though. I wanted to see if you'd tell me yourself.”
"Well," I said. "Now I have.”
"Now you have." Dorelei regarded me, pinpricks of flame reflected in her dark eyes. "I don't know who it is, Imriel, and I'm not asking. Believe me, I don't want to know whose face you're picturing when you hold me so hard it leaves marks. I'm not asking you to break off the affair. All I'm asking is that you stop treating me like I'm an actor miscast in your own personal tragedy through no fault of my own.”
"I don't—" I began to protest, then stopped. "That's well said, actually.”
"Please don't make me laugh." She shook her head, and I saw there were tears making a gleaming path on her brown cheeks. "I want you to treat me like a person, that's all. To see me and not only who I'm not. I don't love you either, you know. I barely even know you. But I might if you'd let me.”
It was fair; it was more than fair.
I got to my feet and made a courtly bow. "My lady, my name is Imriel de la Courcel no Montrève. I have been many things in my short life, most recently what my foster-brother Eamonn would call a right bastard.”
Dorelei smiled through her tears. "Well met, my lord. My name is Dorelei mab Breidaia. I am the niece of the Cruarch of Alba, and most recently, your wife. If you are willing, I think we might at least become friends.”
"I would like that," I said gravely.
Her eyes shone. "So would I.”
It was late and I was tired and still more than a little drunk. I shucked off the rest of my clothing and climbed into bed beside her. A part of my heart ached with loss and longing. A part was glad we had talked. I laid my head on my pillow and closed my eyes, feeling Dorelei's fingers stroking my temples.
"I do wish you weren't so beautiful," she whispered.
"So do I," I murmured.
"Oh, such a burden!" she said, soft and teasing. I opened my eyes to gaze at her. She didn't know, didn't understand that my face carried a constant reminder of my mother's treachery. Although we'd never spoken of it, Sidonie had understood. She'd grown up with my mother's veiled image hanging in the Hall of Portraits. She'd never said such a thing to me, ever. I sighed, knowing I should try to explain to Dorelei, too tired to do it. I lifted one hand and touched her cheek, tracing the dots of blue woad. I'd thought, when first she said she knew, that mayhap she'd seen it in a dream. Stranger things had happened.
"Have you ever dreamed of me?" I asked. "A true dream?”
"Only once.”
"Oh?" I closed my eyes again, feeling sleep begin claim me. "What was it?”
"It wasn't one I understood," she mused. "No one did. You were all alone, kneeling in a snowstorm, beneath a barren tree. Holding your sword and weeping.”
"Oh," I whispered, and slept.
Chapter Fifteen
On the following morning, I slept late.