Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [75]
Still, by the time the day ended, I had to own that it was easier knowing she was gone. Knowing we wouldn't encounter one another in unexpected places, knowing we wouldn't have to endure the grueling ordeal of being cordial to one another in public. Knowing the temptation to take dangerous risks was removed, knowing there was no way of arranging a covert assignation.
I didn't like it, but it was easier.
I had no idea what I'd do upon her return. Amarante was right, of course. It would be for the best if I could find a way to remove myself from the Court. I toyed with the idea of an excursion to Montrève, but something in my heart balked at the notion. It was a special place, a private place. I wasn't ready to share it with Dorelei. Mayhap, I thought, it would be better to tour my own neglected holdings with her. Of a surety, it would be politic to pay a visit, and they held no strong memories for me.
Well, except for Lombelon, which was no longer mine. Though I wouldn't find Maslin there, oh no. He was off to Namarre accompanying Sidonie, second in command of her personal guard, which galled me to no end. The thought of her in his arms, naked and willing, was enough to make the bile rise in my throat. Why she liked him I couldn't fathom, but she did.
She'd do it, too; I was sure of it. It was only a question of when.
I tried not to think about it.
And as matters transpired, for once the gods took pity on me. A few days after Sidonie's departure, the one thing that could serve to lift me well and truly out of the slough of despondency took place.
Eamonn returned.
He presented himself at the Palace, himself and his Skaldic wife. There was no letter, no word of warning. I was sharing a midday luncheon with Dorelei and Alais when the news arrived, delivered by a grinning guard. Alais let out a little shriek.
"Eamonn mac Grainne?" Dorelei asked. "The Lady of the Dalriada's son?”
"The same." I laughed, lightheaded with relief and gladness. "I told you, he fostered with House Montrève for a year. I was hoping to have word from him weeks ago. Have you met?”
"Oh yes, years ago, when I was a little girl. I daresay he won't remember it." She smiled. "I do, though. He was lively.”
"Indeed." I held out one hand to her. Alais was already tugging on my other hand. "Well, come on! Let's go.”
The Palace Guard had, after some debate, escorted them to one of the Queen's private salons. Brigitta was stalking around the perimeter of the room, eyeing the luxurious appointments warily. Eamonn was watching the door, rocking on the cracked heels of his boots and grinning to split his face, which sported a thick red-gold beard.
"Imri!" he shouted.
My heart rose into my throat; I couldn't even answer. I embraced him hard, thumping his broad back with both fists. Eamonn gave me a long, crushing squeeze, then held me off by the shoulders.
"All right, all right!" he said good-naturedly. "Dagda Mor! You'd think I'd risen from the dead.”
I feinted a punch at him. "Elua! You might as well, by the smell of you.
"Eamonn!" Alais hugged him about the waist, then wrinkled her nose. "You do stink. And you're very hairy.”
Eamonn laughed. "Sorry, young highness. It's been a long journey." He pried her gently away and bowed, switching to the Caerdicci language. "May I present my lady wife, Brigitta of the Manni.”
"Yes, of course." Alais, suddenly realizing she was the ranking member of the royal family present, struggled for composure. Her face reddened as she gazed at tall, blonde Brigitta, who was regarding us all with profound skepticism. "Well met, my lady, and welcome to the City of Elua. I'm Alais de la Courcel.”
"Hello, Brigitta," I said to her. "You're supposed to curtsy.”
"Hello, Imriel." She smiled slightly. "What are the dues of fealty in a strange land?”
It sounded like one of the questions Master Piero would