Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [144]
"I see," Barquiel L'Envers said quietly. He took two steps toward me. I put my right hand on the hilt of my new sword. Beneath his close-cropped blond hair, his face was cold, as cold as anything I'd ever seen. There was no malice in it, merely a deadly calm, implacable and calculating. "You don't want to play that game, princeling. Trust me, you do not."
I leaned over in the saddle and spat at his feet.
L'Envers never moved. "Go away, young Imriel," he said. "Far, far away."
"Guards!" Maslin said crisply, drawing his sword. They unsheathed their weapons, approaching warily. My blade rang as it cleared the scabbard. I kneed the Bastard in a tight circle, extending my blade and keeping them at bay.
What would have happened if Sidonie had not emerged from the orchard at that moment, strolling arm-in-arm with Amarante, I cannot say. I daresay they wouldn't have attacked me in broad daylight, without provocation, there on the Queen's grounds.
But I am not certain.
Sidonie's voice carried, cool and imperious. "Lieutenant Maslin, what on earth are you doing?"
He hesitated, then bowed and put up his sword, gesturing to his men to follow suit. "Your pardon, your highness. A misunderstanding, nothing more."
"I should hope so," she said evenly. Barquiel L'Envers narrowed his eyes, studying her. She returned his gaze without flinching. "Well met, Uncle. I trust your respite agreed with you?"
"Oh, indeed." He gave a pointed nod toward the orchard. "As, I trust, did yours."
"Very much so." Tender years or no, Sidonie didn't so much as flush. I ducked my head to hide a grin. From my vantage point on horseback, I could see the slightest hint of a smile hovering in the corner of her lips. She shifted her gaze to me, inclining her head.
Cousin.
I returned her nod. "Dauphine."
No one else spoke. I sheathed my sword and took up the Bastard's reins in both hands. He was edgy, body quivering between my thighs, hooves shifting. Sidonie and I exchanged a long silent glance.
"I'm going," I said to Barquiel L'Envers. "But I'll be back one day."
He said nothing, his eyes narrow and calculating.
I repeated my salute, pressing a clenched fist to my heart. And then I turned the Bastard and gave him his head. We fled, startling the guards at the Palace gate, bursting into the cobbled streets of the City, leaving behind a knot of intrigue and desire I'd no wish to unravel. Passersby stared, and I didn't care. Let them think what they might.
I felt the wind of our passage on my face, and it felt like freedom.
Run, I thought.
Run.
* * *
Chapter Thirty
I said nothing of the encounter. There was nothing new in Barquiel L'Envers' enmity. Maslin was another matter, but I wasn't sure whether his animosity was born of his dislike of me, his feelings for Sidonie, or L'Envers' seditious lies. Either way, I found myself reluctant to speak of it. There was no merit in worrying Phèdre and Joscelin. I didn't want to talk to them about Sidonie, either. Although I couldn't say why, what lay between us seemed best left unspoken.
Anyway, it didn't matter.
On the following day, we left.
The rumor of my departure was already circulating, but we kept the timing of it quiet. I hadn't told anyone but Mavros, and no one else had spoken of it. We rode out from the City in a large party, attended by almost all of Montrève's retainers; even Eugenie and her niece. To all appearances, we might have been going on a household pleasure-jaunt, amply stocked with provisions. A league outside the City, we would part ways. Gilot and I would continue on toward Eisheth's Way and Marsilikos, and the others would return slowly to the City.
It wouldn't fool anyone, not for long. But it would buy us a little time.
As merry as our party looked, it felt like a funeral procession. I had put off thinking about this moment.