Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [232]
I rubbed my sweating palms on my thighs, then began to scoop up the circle of salt, giving it back to the sea from whence it had come. “I reckon we’ll find out.”
Henri Voisin returned to his ship and preceded us. We would be putting ashore at the harbor of Pellasus. Voisin would secure the harbor and procure an escort from among his men, then signal us to make landfall.
I spoke to Captain Deimos and thanked him for his service, which had gone so far beyond aught he could have imagined when he gave his oath to Ptolemy Solon. “I’ll ask no more of you, my lord,” I said to him. “Return to Cythera and tell my mother you saw me safely delivered to Terre d’Ange.” I hesitated. “And . . . thank her for me.”
Deimos smiled wryly. “Mothers, eh?”
In the matter of Melisande, it was such an understatement it made me smile in return. “Tell her I’ll send word when I can, Elua willing,” I said, surprising myself by meaning it. “As well as a generous reward for you and your men. Terre d’Ange owes you a great debt.”
He put out his hand. “Luck, your highness. I gather you’ll yet have need of it.”
I clasped it. “Safe travels to you.”
I spoke to Kratos, too, giving him one last opportunity to return to Cythera with Deimos and his men to take service with my mother rather than continue on into unknown danger with Sidonie and me.
“You’d be safe,” I said. “I’ve no doubt my mother would be delighted by you. And they speak Hellene.”
Kratos looked at me as though I’d gone mad. “My lord, after all this, do you think I’d miss seeing the tale through to its end?” He shook his greying head. “Oh, no! Besides, without me, you’d still be trying to figure out how to get that damned ring off Astegal’s finger.”
I smiled. “All right, my friend.”
It was late in the afternoon before Henri Voisin’s ship signaled us, the slanting sun turning the harbor’s waters to gold. The oarsmen brought us to the wharf and secured the ship’s moorings. The ship rocked gently on the protected waters. Voisin was waiting ashore. He had managed to clear the harbor of onlookers and to procure an unmarked carriage and mounts and pack-horses for a dozen men.
“Resourceful fellow,” I commented.
Sidonie shivered beside me as the gangplank was lowered. “If the charm doesn’t work, you promise you’ll send me back to Amílcar no matter how much I rage and protest?”
“I promise,” I said.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” she said. “I don’t want to lose me again.”
“Sidonie.” I grasped her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this. I have the key. Emmenghanom. I have Bodeshmun’s foul talisman in my purse. You can go back to Amílcar with Voisin and his men. Or even stay anchored in the harbor if he’s willing to spare a ship.”
“I can’t.” She looked past me at the land beyond the city, the gentle hills beginning to green with the advent of spring. “What if we’re both needed, Imriel? I have to try.”
I released her with a sigh. “As you will.”
We said our farewells to Captain Deimos and his men. Henri Voisin and his were waiting. Better if we didn’t delay. Every minute gave rumor a chance to spread. Kratos went before us, carrying the trunk that held our few possessions and lashing it to the carriage.
Sidonie caught my hand in a terrified grip. Her face was white, black eyes stark. “Let’s find out.”
We descended.
Nothing happened when we stepped onto the wooden docks. When we stepped off the dock onto the cobbled stones of the harbor square, her body jerked and her hand tightened on mine. “They itch and burn,” Sidonie said in wonderment. She lifted her free hand and regarded the binding of red thread around her wrist. “And this . . .” She touched the croonie-stone lying in the hollow of her throat. “It feels heavy.”
My throat tightened. “And you?”
She let go my hand and reached up to cup my face, kissing me in answer.
She knew me.
She knew herself.
I kissed her back with relieved, desperate ardor, then lifted my head to find that every D’Angeline sailor in the harbor had gone to one knee and bowed their heads. To her. To us. I saw tears in Sidonie