Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [185]
So we sat and talked a while longer.
Lucius and I watched the interaction of Eamonn and Brigitta with bemusement.
"Are they lovers, do you think?" he whispered.
I studied them. They were careful of one another. He was solicitous, but he never touched her, and she held herself back; opening, but wary. "No, not yet."
"What a pair!" Lucius laughed.
"Well, from all I hear, his mother is an imposing woman in her own right," I said philosophically. "Mayhap he's predisposed." The thought touched too closely on my own situation. By all accounts, my mother Melisande had relished being steeped to the eyeballs in intrigue, not unlike Claudia Fulvia. I shuddered and changed the subject. "What of Aulus?" I asked. "He seems… out of sorts."
"Aulus!" Lucius drained his cup. "Oh, indeed. I suspect Master Piero may ask him to leave." He refilled his cup, contemplating its contents. "Aulus only asked to study with him to be with me."
"Was he your lover?" I asked him.
Lucius gave me a long considering look. His eyes, Elua be thanked, were unlike his sister's; a dark hazel, and altogether a different shape. It made it easier to meet his gaze. "Have you ever felt you were born in the wrong time and place?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "Why?"
He cocked one leg, snagging his boot-heel on the rung of the chair, and laced his fingers around his knee. "'O, dear my lord'… it's beautiful stuff, Anafiel de Montrève's poetry. He modeled it on the ancient Hellenes. And there was nothing soft about them." A fierce light hardened his face. "Warriors, sworn lovers, each vowed to hold the other's honor more dear than their own. There was a city-state that fielded an army forged of such couples. The Sacred Band, they called it. Have you heard of it?"
I nodded.
"For a time, they were invincible," Lucius said softly. "I could have lived then. I could have been born in Terre d'Ange, where men still believe such things and write poems about them. They do, don't they?" There was a catch in his voice, vulnerable and hopeful.
"Yes," I said. "They do."
"Do you?" he asked.
His gaze was direct, and I returned it honestly. "No," I said. "I can understand it. Truth be told, there is no one outside Montrève that I have ever loved better than Eamonn mac Grainne. He is like a brother to me, and I would gladly spend my life to defend his honor. But…" I hesitated, then forged ahead. "Some bad things happened to me, Lucius, when I was a child, before I was adopted. Betimes I find it hard enough to be with women, although that has changed. Still, I find myself shying from the thought of being with a man. Mayhap that will change, too. But for now… no."
"I didn't think so." Lucius tilted his head and regarded the ceiling.
"Lucius." I laid one hand over his laced fingers. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." He bowed his head, contemplating our hands. "Though surely this must be the first conversation betwixt Caerdicci and D'Angeline that fell out thusly." His lips quirked and his fingers stirred, catching mine in a hard grip. "You named me friend when we first met, Imriel nó Montrève. Are you willing to stand by it?"
I returned his grip, hard. "I am."
"Good," Lucius said briefly. "I have need of friends."
After the second jug, we left the wineshop. Lucius bade us farewell, and I accompanied Eamonn as he escorted Brigitta to the insula where she lodged. There was a landlady who rented her entire complex to female scholars only, and allowed no men past the gate. I loitered while they exchanged good-byes, trying not to eavesdrop.
We went to the Great Forum and bought skewers of grilled chicken from a vendor, sitting on the low steps that bordered the Forum to eat them. It was nearing dusk, and the street performers were getting in their last fleeting hour of work. We watched a fire-eater spew gouts of flame from his mouth, lurid against the gloaming sky, then lower the torch, extinguishing its flame with his mouth.
"I'd like to learn to do that," Eamonn said. "Do you think he'd teach me?"
"I have no idea," I said. My weariness