Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [83]
It was unnervingly familiar.
"Go." Maslin stepped aside. "The sooner the better.”
"Maslin." I hesitated. "Must we always be this way?”
Our eyes met, then he looked past me. "Yes.”
I turned in the saddle. Sidonie was mounting the Palace steps, Amarante's arm around her waist. Safe harbor. I sighed. "Fine. Do your duty.”
"I am always mindful of my duty," Maslin said stiffly. "Prince Imriel. Can you say the same?”
"Believe it or not," I said to him, "I'm trying.”
I got over the worst of my anger on the short ride to the manor house. By the time I arrived, it had faded, leaving behind a deep and abiding sorrow. It was good to spend time alone with my Shahrizai kin, especially Mavros. I'd gotten in the habit of thinking of Eamonn as my one true friend, but I'd grown close to Mavros. I would miss him.
In a meadow beyond the manor's mews, I told him about the encounter in the courtyard. He shook his head. "Elua's Balls! Whatever possessed you to give him Lombelon, anyway? You do realize if you hadn't, he'd be spreading dung in an orchard somewhere, not plotting his way into the royal heir's bed.”
"I know." I shaded my eyes, watching Mavros' peregrine falcon circle lazily in the blue sky. "I thought it was the right thing to do, that's all.”
"No good deed goes unpunished," Mavros observed. "Will you see her before you leave?”
"Sidonie?" I shrugged. "I'll make no effort to. 'Tis too maddening to hope.”
"Good lad." Gauging his bird had been aloft long enough without a strike, Mavros whistled shrilly through his teeth and began swinging his lure in looping circles. "Make her come to you.”
"It's not like that," I said.
Overhead, the falcon abandoned its gyre and began winging toward us. Mavros whistled again. Something rustled in the long grass and wild chicory. The falcon changed course abruptly and stooped, falling like a comet. There was a thrashing in the grass and a hare's terrible squeal. "Ha!" Mavros looked smugly at me and began coiling his lure. "It's always like that.”
"We'll see," I said.
There was a formal Courcel dinner that night in celebration of Sidonie's return, with Eamonn and Brigitta attending as guests. I managed to be pleasant and circumspect throughout the evening. I hadn't lied to Mavros. I did want to see her, but it was simply too agonizing to hold out hope where little or none existed. There was too little time and no opportunity I could conceive. I made myself close the door on the possibility, regretfully but firmly, wondering in only a small corner of my mind if Mavros might be proved right.
He was.
I rose early on the day before our departure. Since moving to the Palace, I'd taken to practicing the Cassiline training-drills Joscelin had taught me in the little pleasure-garden beneath my balcony, at least on those days when I rose at a decent hour. I'd neglected them in Tiberium, and it felt good to establish the habit of discipline. I moved through the circular patterns—telling the hours, the Cassiline Brothers called it—slowly, then swiftly, then slowly again. My plain, well-wrought sword glinted in the grey light, marking each quadrant of defense. The dewy grass squelched under my boots, and I concentrated on placing my feet with care.
When I finished, I realized I was being watched.
The garden lay within the Palace walls and there was no guard posted at the little trellised egress that led onto it. Amarante was standing there in the shadow of the doorway, a shawl over her shoulders to ward off the dawn's chill. I sheathed my sword and crossed to her.
"Can you be at Naamah's Temple at noon?" she asked. "Alone and unseen?”
My throat went tight. "Yes.”
Amarante nodded. "Please be careful.”
"I will be," I promised.
For once, I was. If the risks Sidonie and I had run had been high in the past, they seemed a great