Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [145]
On one of the smaller country roads that connects to Eisheth's Way, we halted and said our farewells. Everyone there seemed impossibly dear to me. Eugenie was the first to weep, embracing me and turning away. I bid farewell to her, to Clory, to all our men-at-arms, to Hugues and Ti-Philippe.
Gilot said his own farewells, and when he was done, he led our mounts and pack-horses a way down the road. On Ti-Philippe's nod, the household withdrew in the opposite direction, leaving Phèdre and Joscelin and me alone.
I could scarce bear to look at them.
The sun stood high overhead. Our shadows pooled at our feet, mingling on the dusty road. The scent of lavender hung in the air. After all we had endured, it seemed impossible that we would part. There should have been words for it; torrents of words. But it was hard to breathe past the lump in my throat, and all words failed me.
"Imriel," Phèdre whispered.
I nodded and looked at her, seeing past her undimmed beauty and the mark of Kushiel's Dart; even the sorrow brimming in her eyes. I saw the profound compassion and courage. Love. I saw love in its truest, purest form.
You will find it and lose it, again and again.
"Be well," she said. "Be happy. Come back safely to us one day."
Unable to speak, I nodded again, stepping into her embrace. I bowed my head against her shoulder. In that moment, I remembered only how many times she had held me when I awoke from nightmares, sweating and trembling, my throat raw from screaming. How many times I had taken comfort from her mere presence. In a part of me, I wished nothing had ever changed. But it had, and I could not undo it. The silent leap of desire lay between us, deep as a chasm. After a moment, Phèdre planted a kiss on my brow and let me go, turning away.
I looked at Joscelin, and knew there was nothing left to say. In a way, we had already said our farewells. He reached out his hand and we clasped forearms like men. It gave me strength to draw a shuddering breath and speak.
"I love you," I said to them. "I love you both so much."
If I stayed, I feared I would lose my resolve. And so I went. Behind me, I heard a small sound escape Phèdre; I heard the sound of Joscelin's vambraces creaking as he put his arm about her. It was she who had taught me to listen for such things. And he was doing what he had always done, being strong for us both when we needed him the most.
My steps dragged on the dusty road. Ahead of me was Gilot, sweating under the hot sun as he sat astride, holding two lead-lines and the Bastard's reins. I kept going though my heart felt like a stone in my breast.
"You're sure about this?" Gilot asked when I reached him.
I leaned my head against the Bastard's muscular neck, breathing in the odor of hot horseflesh. I could feel Phèdre's kiss on my brow like a blessing. "I'm sure," I mumbled through the Bastard's coarse mane.
"Let's go, then." His voice was firm.
I forced myself to mount, though my limbs felt heavy and reluctant. Gilot secured the lead-lines of the pack-horses and we set on our way, treading our shadows beneath us.
I looked behind me only once. They were still standing there, Phèdre and Joscelin, growing small in the distance. She looked small beneath his arm. He raised one hand in salute, vambrace glinting. I raised my hand in reply, and turned my gaze forward.
Ah, Elua! It hurt to leave them.
I wiped my eyes, scrubbing my tearstained cheeks. And then I drew a deep breath, tasting the air as a free man. "Gilot?"
"Aye, highness?" he asked.
"I'm done with weeping," I said. "I'm sick unto death of my own tears. No more, do you hear me?"
"I do." He smiled wryly. "Tell the truth, I've had enough of my own."
"Good." I straightened in the saddle. "And no more your highness or my prince, either. Call me what you will in front of others, but not that. I'm not going to Tiberium as a Prince of the Blood or a member of House Courcel."
Gilot eyed me sidelong. "No? How do you want to be called?"
"Imriel,"