Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [110]
And Eamonn mac Grainne scented the air and looked toward Tiberium.
I held my tongue for days, then blurted the words. "I wish you wouldn't go."
We were drinking in the Cockerel when I said it. Eamonn was hunched over the table, a foaming tankard dwarfed in his hands. He always seemed too big for his surroundings. His coppery brows knit into a perplexed frown. "Why, Imri? You know it's what I want."
I stared at the table, tracing lines in the scarred wood. "I'll miss you, that's all. What does Tiberium offer that Terre d'Ange doesn't?"
"I don't know," he said peaceably. "That's the point." He blew foam from his tankard and sipped. "I'll miss you, too."
"Not enough," I said darkly.
Eamonn laughed. "Are we friends or lovers?"
I shrugged, picking at the scarred wood with my thumbnail. "You know the answer. You're like a brother to me, Eamonn." I paused. "What I told you in Montrève… I've never told another living soul, except for Phèdre."
"Daršanga," he murmured.
I nodded. "I trust you."
"Imriel." Eamonn covered my hand with his, stilling it. "I will take that trust to my grave, and you know it." His grey-green eyes were wide and earnest. "But you must find your own way in the world, as I must find mine." He shook his head in frustration, words failing him. "This… your friendship is a gift unlooked for. I will treasure it, always. But this thing, I must do it for me."
I clasped his hand, hard. "You won't forget me?"
"Never," he said simply.
This year, Quintilius Rousse timed his return to the City of Elua to coincide with Drustan's arrival. Ten days later, he departed with Eamonn in tow. With the Queen's blessing, the Royal Admiral would escort his unlooked-for Dalriadan son to Tiberium.
We turned out to bid them farewell. Ti-Philippe knew a couple of the City Guard on duty at the Southern Gate, and they let me mount the guard tower. From that vantage point, I watched as the Admiral's party rode toward Marsilikos. Eamonn turned in the saddle, waving. I waved back, watching until they were small in the distance and I could only pick out Eamonn by the gleam of sunlight on his coppery hair. And then they were gone.
It began a moody time for me. Although I had known it, even I failed to fully reckon how much Eamonn's unwavering cheer balanced my own brooding tendencies. My Court friends irritated me with their endless prattle. Night's Doorstep seemed a hollow pleasure without Eamonn's company. By the time we departed the City for Montrève, I was glad to leave.
In Montrève, it was a little better. As I had done before, I sought refuge in physical labor, assisting in the day-to-day business of running the estate. I worked as hard as I had played the previous summer, often laboring from dawn until dusk. It raised a few brows, but the Friote clan welcomed my assistance with good-natured tolerance.
Phèdre worried, I know.
Some weeks into the summer, she called me into her study, regarding me with concerned affection. "I didn't exactly get my Longest Night's wish for you, did I?"
"Happiness?" I asked.
She nodded. "It is just that you miss Eamonn?"
"No." I shrugged. "It's a part of it. But there's more, too." I propped my chin on my hand, thinking. "I don't know. I don't know what to do with myself. Everyone else seems to be content with their lot or sure of their goals, and I'm not either. Not because of you," I added hastily. "The discontent, I mean. Ah, Elua! I ought to wake up every day grateful to be alive. And I do, I am, but—"
"Imri." Phèdre cut me off gently. "It's all right, love. You can't force happiness."
"Were you happy at this age?" I asked.
"I was." She smiled. "Happy, shallow, and vain."
It made me smile, too. "How did you know what you wanted?"
"They were simple wants," she said wryly. "I wanted to make my lord Delaunay proud of me, and mayhap to love me. I wanted to make my marque and be hailed by the City as the