Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [231]
A wave of fury swamped my composure. "Enough!"
"You don't like that, do you?" Claudia laughed. "Oh, Imriel! Your precious Phèdre is overmatched here. You may cling to your foster-mother's skirts and have naughty dreams about sharing her bed, but don't think for a minute that she can protect you—"
"Enough." I repeated the word softly. "Don't provoke me."
Her chin raised in stubborn mutiny. "Do you dare threaten the Guild?"
"I do." I squared my shoulders. "And you, too, if you think to threaten me in turn. I'm sure Deccus would be quite interested to learn of our affair. Claudia, I will not expose the Guild. But understand, if anyone dear to me is harmed, I will break that promise. And if I am harmed…" I paused. "Yes, you will have Phèdre nó Delaunay on your doorstep; Kushiel's Chosen, filled with righteous fury, with the Queen's Champion guarding her back. She will ask questions, and she will find answers. It is what she does, and she does it well. And then you and the Unseen Guild will have the wrath of Queen Ysandre de la Courcel upon you, and the Cruarch of Alba, too."
"Politics," Claudia retorted. "The Guild doesn't fear politics. The Guild is politics!"
"No?" I asked. "How about the Master of the Straits?"
She was silent.
"He's real, you know," I said to her. "He can command the seas to rise, rain to fall, and the wind to blow. And he's not bound to the Straits, not anymore. Phèdre freed him, although she went through untold hell to do it, and Joscelin with her. I know; I was there." I smiled at Claudia. "His name is Hyacinthe, and he is her childhood friend, her one true friend. I imagine he could sink the port of Ostia beneath the waves if he took a fancy to do so."
Claudia had turned pale, very pale. "He wouldn't dare."
"Why not?" I asked. "What possible threat could the Guild use to deter the Master of the Straits?" I shook my head. "Claudia, let us both be wise and part as friends. I will stay for your brother's wedding, and then I will go. And nothing more will be said of this, ever."
"It's not that simple," she whispered. "Not for me."
"I say it is." I extended my hand. "Shall we part?"
"Friends." She pronounced the word bitterly. "You leave me little choice."
I shook her hand gravely. "There are worse things in the world, Claudia Fulvia."
To that, she made no reply.
Thus, the second step, that was in some ways the hardest. But once it was done, I felt good. I'd spent so much time and effort running away from my life and identity that it felt good to reclaim it.
I spoke to Eamonn that evening in private, just the two of us in a dark corner of the wineshop. We spoke in the Eiran dialect, which was one tongue I could be reasonably certain no casual bystander would know. I was rusty enough in its usage myself. If for some reason the Guild had set spies on me, well and so. If they were that determined and clever, there was little I could do about it.
I told him about Claudia.
Not about the Unseen Guild, of course; I wasn't fool enough to test their limits. But I told him about our affair. How it had begun, and how long it had continued. He let out a low whistle at the initial revelation, then sat quiet and listened while I told him the rest. I told him, then, of my night on the isle of Asclepius, and my decisions that had followed.
"I'll miss you," he said. "I understand why you're leaving, but I'll miss you. I'm glad you're staying for Lucius' wedding." He gave me one of his shrewd looks. "So it's over, then? You and Claudia Fulvia?"
"Definitely," I said.
Eamonn swirled his wine, then drank. "It's funny," he said pensively. "This would be nothing in Terre d'Ange. But here…" He glanced at me. "Do you think she'll talk?"
I shook my head. "She has her reputation to uphold."
He smiled a little. "Sounds like heavy lifting from what you say. Imri, are you going to tell Lucius?"
"Gods, no!" I shuddered. "No, I plan to tell him the truth about who I am. I reckon I owe him that much. But I don't think he needs to know I've been bedding his sister."
"I suppose not,"