Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [118]
"Move aside." Joscelin's voice was as clear and cutting as a blade. "I'll take him."
The Captain paused, then moved, gesturing to his men to do the same. I could have wept at the sight of Joscelin, his face at once furious and tender, a thick woolen blanket over his arm and the worn hilt of his sword jutting over his shoulder, silhouetted against the stars. He placed the blanket around me.
"Come, love," he said. "Let's go home."
Rumor kills.
I learned it that winter. The Queen's inquiry came to naught. If there was a conspiracy seeking to recruit me, it was well and truly hidden. There were a few nobles embarrassed, forced to admit to seditious comments. All of them denied, fervently, acting upon them.
No one remembered hearing the phrase "true of heart and pure of blood."
Nonetheless, I had been tarred with the brush of suspicion—and it stuck. Old friends eyed me askance and were cool in my company. My relationship with Bertran turned bitter, bordering on outright enmity. Only the Queen's continued show of support kept me from becoming a pariah at Court. Even Phèdre and Joscelin's support was reckoned suspect. Beloved as they were, it was whispered that they were naive, too good-hearted to recognize that they had taken a serpent to their bosom.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot; more than I had reckoned. When my mother vanished, I had been braced for it. But this… this was unlooked for. It was unfair. I hadn't done anything wrong.
To my surprise, the Shahrizai stood by me.
"You are family, Imriel," Mavros said dryly. "After all, we've withstood worse."
Alais stood by me, too. If there was anything in the world she disliked, it was being told what to think. The mill of rumors only made her more staunch in her friendship, and I was more grateful for it than I could say.
"What does Phèdre think about it?" she asked me one day. "Really think?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "She's been quiet about it."
"She suspects somewhat," Alais said with certainty.
"Mayhap." I shrugged. "But I don't know what." I changed the subject. "What passes in Alba these days?"
Alais looked away. "Prince Talorcan is coming this summer."
"Drustan's heir?" I asked in surprise.
She smiled with a wryness that belied her thirteen years. "He hasn't named him formally." We were sitting together in her quarters, talking in low tones to avoid the ears of her attendants. "I imagine Father will ask me after I've had a chance to meet him."
"Ask you?" I repeated.
"If I'm willing to consent to a betrothal." She hugged her knees. "He thinks it's the only way. The Cullach Gorrym have threatened to revolt if he changes the tradition."
"Well, we always knew it might come to this," I said. "What will you do?"
Alais shrugged. "I'll meet him. It would only be a betrothal; we wouldn't wed for a few years, at least." She smiled again, this time wistfully. "Mayhap he'll be nice, like Eamonn. Wouldn't it be nice if he were like Eamonn?"
"Eamonn!" I laughed. "So he's what you'd look for in a bridegroom?"
"Oh, yes!" Her eyes glowed. "He's kind and funny, and…"
"Tall?" I suggested.
She scowled at me. "Don't be silly. Who would you have me wed, Imri? Some pretty-faced D'Angeline lordling with a smooth tongue? True of heart and pure of blood?" she said, an edge to her voice.
I winced. "No, of course not."
"I liked Eamonn."
"I liked him, too, villain," I said softly. "I miss him a lot." I reached out to stroke a lock of her hair. "In fact, you're right. I can't think of anyone else I'd sooner see you wed when it comes time. But I'm afraid the kingdom of the Dalriada is but a tiny portion of Alba, and Eamonn's a younger son with little stake in it. You might make a love-match out of it, but don't look for the Queen or your father to arrange it."
"I know." Alais sighed, exhaling so hard it lifted the black curls from her brow. "And it's not exactly a love-match, is it? I'm nothing more than a child to him. He went off to Tiberium without a backward glance." She frowned. "I wish I were older."
"Me, too, villain," I said with sympathy.