Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [140]
"No." Ysandre paused. Something surfaced in her gaze, courageous and indomitable. "No," she repeated. "That I will not do. Whatever your choices, you are a member of House Courcel, now and always."
I bowed to her. "Nonetheless, I am going."
I said my farewells to those who mattered. Foremost among them was Alais. She tried very hard to ignore me, kneeling on the marble floors of her chambers and hugging Celeste, who bore it with worried patience.
"Don't go," she pleaded. "Don't leave me, please!"
"I'm sorry, villain." I crouched before her, trying to get her to look at me. "I have to."
She averted her head stubbornly. "You were supposed to be my brother!"
"And so I am, in my heart." I touched her hot tearstained cheek. "Have you decided to consent to the betrothal?"
Alais nodded. "I couldn't think of a reason not to," she said in a small voice. "But I thought you'd be coming too, Imri."
"Oh, Alais! I am sorry." Shifting to my knees, I gathered her in my arms. She relented and flung herself against me, dampening my neck with tears, her narrow shoulders shaking. I held her, swallowing against the lump in my throat. With Alais, I was my better self; my best self. I would miss her. "I'll come back," I whispered into her tangled hair. "I promise I will."
She drew away, sniffling. "Swear it!"
I raised my hand. "In Blessed Elua's name, I swear it."
Although I did not bother to speak with any of my former friends from among the young courtiers, I did pay a visit to Mavros, calling upon him at his father's domicile. Mavros merely nodded when I told him, calm and unsurprised. After the scene with Alais, I was grateful for it.
"When will you leave?" he asked.
"In three days' time," I said. "There's a merchant ship sailing out of Marsilikos. I mean to book passage."
"Alone?" he asked.
"I'd like to." I smiled crookedly, trying not to tear my healing mouth. "And I'd be within my rights, too. There's naught anyone could do about it since I've gained my majority. But no. Gilot is coming to Tiberium with me. He's not been good for aught else since he got his heart broken, so he reckoned he might as well. And I didn't have the heart to argue."
"Good." Mavros raised his brows at me. "Like it or no, you do have enemies, Imriel. An entourage would be better, but at least two are stronger than one." He paused. "Will you see Sidonie before you leave?"
I shrugged. "Why? There's no merit in it."
He merely regarded me.
"All right!" I scowled at him. "No. I couldn't think of a way. A discreet way."
Mavros chuckled, beckoning to a servant. "Paper and pen," he said, and then to me, "You're not very good at this, are you? We'll send a note to her attendant. Naamah's folk live for this sort of thing. You know the one. What's her name? The priestess' daughter, the one with the luscious lips that make you think about how they'd look wrapped around your shaft."
I flushed. "Amarante of Namarre."
He snapped his fingers. "Amarante! That's the one."
I argued; he coaxed. In the end, I conceded. Whatever else one might say of the Shahrizai, they are persuasive. We drafted a note to be sent under his aegis to Amarante for Sidonie, inviting her to a private meeting on the afternoon before my departure.
"So, we have the when," Mavros said, his pen poised. "Where?"
I thought about it. "The place where I first smiled at her."
He looked skeptical. "It's a bit vague. You think she'll remember?"
I shrugged again. "If she doesn't, then I'm right, aren't I? There's no merit in it."
Mavros shook his head, dipping his pen in the inkwell. "As you will," he said, finishing the letter and signing it with a flourish. "You don't make it easy for people to care for you, cousin."
"No," I said. "I suppose not."
We said our farewells, and he embraced me for the first time, hard and firm. I was glad, I realized, to call him kin.
"Thank you," I said. "For everything. For this"