Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [8]
Small wonder there were those who longed to see her suffer.
"Imri?" Alais' brow was knit with concern.
"Yes, my lady." With an effort, I gathered myself, smiling at Alais and closing the muslin drapes. My mother's face vanished. My father's continued to gaze somberly from the wall. I bowed to Alais. "I place myself at your service. What will you?”
She looked away, one hand buried in the wolfhound's ruff. "Please don't make mock of me, Imriel.”
"Alais!" Startled, I went to one knee. "I wasn't.”
"All right." She stole a sidelong glance at me. "Do you ever think ... do you ever wish she had succeeded? Or think they might have been right?”
I gaped at her. "My mother?”
Alais nodded at the portraits. "The both of them.”
"No." I took her free hand and squeezed it. "Never.”
Chapter Two
“Again!”
In the gloaming, Joscelin's teeth flashed as he took a stance opposite me, his wooden sword angled before him. I grinned in reply and launched a fresh attack.
Our blades flicked and clattered as we circled each other in the courtyard, testing each other's defenses. There was hoarfroast beginning to form on the slate tiles and I placed my feet with care as we revolved around each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Joscelin's feet move. Hugues' bad poetry not withstanding, he did seem to glide. His footwork was intricate and impeccable.
He was good; better than I was. I daresay he always will be. At ten years of age—the age at which I was learning to beg for mercy in the Mahrkagir's zenana—Joscelin entered the Cassiline Brotherhood and began to train as a warrior-priest. Day after day, he had trained without cease.
It wasn't just the training, though. There were other Cassiline Brothers. But none of them had ever made his choice. None had ever been tested as he was.
I pressed him on his bad side; his left side, where he was slower. His left arm had been shattered in Daršanga. He relinquished ground in acknowledgment, step by gliding step, and I pressed him. And then, somehow, he leaned away from my thrust with a subtle twist of his torso and I found myself overextended. The sharp point of his elbow came down hard on the back of my reaching hand.
"Oh, hell!" My sword fell and my hand stung. I shook it out.
Joscelin chuckled.
"Show me?" I asked.
"Here." Setting down his blade, he placed one hand on my belly and the other on my lower back, applying pressure. "Weight on the rear foot, knee flexed. See?”
I leaned as he'd done. "I feel off balance.”
"Widen your stance." Joscelin nudged my forward foot. "Better." He patted my belly. "It all flows from here, Imri. You can't be stiff. Have you kept up your practice?”
"No," I admitted. "Gallus Tadius didn't approve. He had us training with—”
He wasn't listening. He was smiling across the courtyard. Nothing had changed, but his face was alight. Since there was only one person in the world who made Joscelin Verreuil's face brighten so, I knew without looking that Phèdre was there.
I looked anyway. She stood before the doors that opened onto the courtyard, hugging herself against the cold as she watched us spar. There was so much love and gladness in her eyes, I had to look away. What I wanted wasn't meant for me.
"Show me?" she asked, teasing.
Joscelin laughed, low and soft. He crossed over to her and placed his hands on her, as he'd done to me, only not. Not at all the same. She twined her arms around his neck, the velvet sleeves of her gown falling back to lay them bare, white and slender. He bent his head to kiss her, his wheat-blond hair falling forward. For the span of a few heartbeats, nothing else in the world existed for them.
I stooped, picking up our fallen swords. It shouldn't hurt. When I was younger, when I was a child, it wouldn't have. I loved them, I loved them both so much. They rescued me out of hell and they paid a terrible price for it. Together, we