Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [80]
I smiled wryly. "My thanks.”
"How?" he asked. "And why?”
I told him how it had come to pass; the boar hunt last summer, the Longest Night, and the affair that had ensued with all its attendant dangers. Eamonn listened without comment until I was finished. "Does Dorelei know?”
"Yes, and no." I took a gulp of ale. "She knows there's someone. She didn't want to know who.”
"How in the world do you manage to do this?" Eamonn shook his head in disbelief. "I swear, Imriel, you stumble into the most difficult things!”
"Oh, thus speaks the man who spent a Skaldic winter slaving to win the hand of his ill-tempered bride!" I observed sharply.
Eamonn grinned and beckoned for more ale. "She's not ill-tempered with me. Well, not anymore. Not usually." He fished on the table for coins to pay for the ale, waiting for the barkeep to leave. "So tell me, Imri. Which is she? A Claudia or a Helena?" I looked at him, uncomprehending. "A wanton you long to debauch or an innocent you want to protect?" he clarified. "Oh, come! You tumbled into Claudia's marriage-bed without a second thought, and you lopped off Valpetra's hand to save Helena without even having met her. Surely you've noticed you're drawn to one or the other.”
"I hadn't, actually." I thought about it and smiled. "Both.”
"You are in trouble." Eamonn raised his brows. "What do you mean to do?”
"Hope it passes." I shrugged. "We're both hoping.”
"That's why Sidonie went to Naamah's shrine?" he asked. "To get away?”
I nodded. "It was too hard being under the same roof together.”
Eamonn gave me a dubious look. "I'm not laughing, Imri, but it is hard to fathom. What will you do when she returns?”
"I don't know." I shook my head. "I was thinking of taking Dorelei to tour my holdings to the north…I don't know. I hadn't decided, and then you showed up, and I've not made any plans since.”
"I've an idea," Eamonn said slowly. "Come with me.”
"To Alba?" I stared at him. "Now?”
"Why not?" He grinned. "I'd be pleased to no end to have you, and Brigitta wouldn't mind. She quite likes Dorelei. You could pay your respects to my lady mother before your Alban nuptials. Surely, the Lady of the Dalriada deserves no less from a D'Angeline prince. After all, I was named for her brother my uncle, who died defending Terre d'Ange.”
"Yes, I know," I said absently. "She carried his head home in a bag.”
"True," Eamonn agreed. "It's buried atop the mound in Innisclan. Pity she didn't get the head of the man who killed him to bury at the foot, he would have rested easier for it. But you could make an offering there. It would be fitting.”
"Ysandre would never—" I reflected. "Well, she might.”
"There's a debt of honor owed," he said pragmatically. "She's never deigned to visit. What better opportunity than to send you, your bride, and a large armed company to escort the Lady's wayward son home?”
It seemed like a mad adventure when he first proposed it, but the longer I thought about it, the more sense it made. Eamonn was right, Terre d'Ange did owe a debt to the Dalriada, and his arrival forged the perfect opportunity to acknowledge it. Dorelei and I were bound for Alba anyway. Our wedding had been witnessed by the peers of the realm here, who could now assure themselves that the line of succession in Alba wouldn't revert wholly to the Cruithne, shutting out Terre d'Ange's influence. Nothing more was needful.
It made sense; it made a great deal of sense. My heart protested at it—ah, Elua! I didn't want to leave D'Angeline soil any sooner than I had to. And yet something had to be done. Mayhap with the Straits between us, Sidonie and I would find our ardor cooling and our infatuation passing. And if we didn't…well.
I hoped we would at the same time I prayed we didn't.
"All right, then." I hoisted my tankard. "To the Dalriada!