Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [121]
I sighed. "A deer."
"Oh, your face!" Sidonie gasped. "You should have seen it! It's not funny, I know, but…" Her laughter trailed off. Something in her expression turned soft and quizzical. "You really meant it, didn't you? Your oath."
I swallowed hard. Of a sudden, I was acutely aware of her body beneath mine, all firm curves and tender limbs. Of her honey-gold hair, spilled across the damp loam. Of her face, inches from mine, lips parted. My own hair fell forward, curtaining her face. We were so close our breath mingled.
I saw her realize it, too, the blood rising beneath her fair skin. In the hollow of her throat, I could see her pulse quicken.
I felt… what? Dizzy and disoriented, as though I'd seen the sun rise in the west. I was a stranger in my own skin. Something deep in my chest felt wrong, as though a piece of me had gone missing.
Neither of us moved.
"Yes," I whispered. "I meant it."
The Bastard chose that moment to amble over and investigate. He leaned his spotted head down, snuffling at my hair. I startled and cursed, then got hold of myself and clambered to my feet. I extended my hand to Sidonie.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, helping her rise.
"No. Bruised a little, that's all." Averting her head, she brushed dirt and leaf-mold from her skirt. "Thank you, Imriel."
"For protecting you from a deer?" I asked wryly.
"For protecting me." Sidonie looked at me, her dark Cruithne eyes direct and honest. I saw, for the first time, our shared heritage in her face. Our brows were the same shape, straight and firm, tapering at the ends. Hers were burnished gold where mine were black. Otherwise, they were the same.
It made me feel strange all over again.
"I'll see if I can't catch your mare," I said.
As it happened, I couldn't. I spent some time at it, stamping and swearing. The fractious beast skittered away, showing the whites of her eyes, her reins trailing. The Bastard watched the proceedings with mild interest. Sidonie laughed. Not the same laugh, but a laugh.
"Never mind," she said. "Someone will fetch her. We'd best find out what's happened." She sobered, shivering. "Elua! I hope no one was hurt."
So I boosted her astride the Bastard and led him on foot. We hadn't gone farther than a few hundred paces before we heard the searchers calling. I gave a shout in reply. And my cursed luck held true; Maslin de Lombelon was the first to find us, bursting from the forest on horseback, his face a mask of streaked blood, none of it appearing to be his own. He rode us down furiously, drawing his sword and pointing its tip at my heart. It, too, was bloody.
"Unhand her!" he said tautly.
I stood stock-still, holding the Bastard's reins with one hand. "Maslin," I said cautiously, raising my free hand and showing it empty. "The Dauphine is unharmed."
His blade trembled. "Unhand her!"
"Maslin!" Sidonie's voice was sharp. "I'm fine. Leave him be."
He breathed hard, staring at her. And I knew, in that moment, with utter surety, that he loved her; or thought he did. There was somewhat between them. I knew it. He bowed his head and sheathed his sword. "As you command, Dauphine."
In the glade, we found the others; or most of them. The boar was dead, lying in a vast unseemly mound. Alais was sitting on the ground, weeping, cradling Celeste in her lap. I winced, seeing the wolfhound's side gored, a long slash laid that laid her ribcage open nearly to the bone. Celeste beat her tail feebly at my approach, unable to raise her head, brown eyes apologetic.
"Oh, Imri!" Alais raised her tearstained face. "Help her, please!"
I got the whole story from her later. How the boar had charged and charged again; how Celeste had snarled and fought. How she had been gored, and how Maslin de Lombelon had stepped into the breach, shoving his blade home in the boar's mighty breast, sinking it to the hilt, holding it while it raged, until others came forward and struck a succession of death-blows, until it sank and subsided.
None of