Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [287]
"Not really." I swallowed. "Deccus…"
She laid her fingers over my lips, silencing me. "Deccus Fulvius is a good man with an unfaithful wife. It changes nothing. The truth of what I said stands." Taking her hand away, she kissed me, then rose. "And I have no regrets."
Elua, but she was a strong woman! I laughed softly. When all was said and done, I didn't want to trade my memories, either. "All right, my lady. No regrets. Except mayhap for a few deeds left undone."
Blowing me a final kiss, Claudia Fulvia left.
Too tired to seek my bed, I rolled myself in my cloak and fell asleep on the couch.
When I dreamed, I dreamed of Claudia.
* * *
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The transfer went smoothly.
We were all there to see it effected. I was in an agony of fear that Gallus Tadius would change his mind and rescind his order, but he was nowhere in evidence. The three Valpetran prisoners were released. They were dirty and disoriented, blinking at the sudden emergence into daylight, but their wounds had been tended and all three were alive.
It took some time to get them down the ladder, and longer for Quentin LeClerc's men to escort them into their condottiere's custody, where their identity was confirmed. The wall was bristling with armed guards, but Valpetra's men agreed to the continued truce and maintained their distance.
Once it was done, it was time for our three to go.
We said our farewells. Claudia was warmly cordial. Deccus Fulvius shook my hand firmly. He would have shaken Eamonn's, too, but he and Brigitta were locked in a tight embrace.
"Don't worry, lad," Deccus murmured. "I'll do my damnedest to see to it that Lady Fleurais gets all the aid Tiberium can muster."
No regrets.
"Thank you, my lord," I said.
Eamonn and Brigitta stood motionless, folded together in his cloak. His head was bowed, his coppery hair mixed with her gold. They looked almost like one figure. Not until Deccus and Claudia were safe on the ground and one of the guards gave a conspicuous, apologetic cough did Eamonn tear himself away.
"I will find you," he said to her.
"I will be waiting," she whispered.
She went down the ladder with her face averted. Eamonn watched her all the way.
When all was in readiness for their departure, I beckoned to Quentin LeClerc. He brought his horse to the edge of the moat. I withdrew my letter, wrapped in an oilskin packet. "Messire LeClerc," I called. "Will you ask the ambassadress to see this is delivered to the Comtesse de Montrève?"
He bowed. "Of course, your highness."
I tossed the packet. It was light and sailed easily across the moat. The waters seemed to have sunk a bit.
He caught it handily. "Have you any message, Prince Eamonn?"
"Yes." Eamonn was still watching Brigitta. "Tell my mother… ask the Comtesse de Montrève to let the Lady of the Dalriada know that her son married well. And to tell my father I'm glad I met him."
Quentin LeClerc bowed again. "It will be done."
There was nothing left to say. Everyone was mounted, with six of the guards riding double to free up horses for the hostages. LeClerc saluted and gave the signal. They struck out across the burned fields at a steady jog. I laid my hand on Eamonn's shoulder and we watched them go. For once, none of the guards disturbed us.
Valpetra's cavalry had withdrawn to their post on the road. They halted the D'Angeline contingent, inspecting the released hostages and LeClerc's men to make sure none of them was me, trying to sneak out of Lucca with both my hands attached at the wrist.
It didn't take long.
Domenico Martelli must have gotten a good look at me, I thought. Then again, I suppose one doesn't forget such things. I will see the Mahrkagir's face in my nightmares until I die.
Still, I breathed a sigh of relief when the cavalry let them pass. Valpetra's soldiers wheeled and beat a path back toward the river, vanishing beyond the wall's curve. The D'Angeline contingent labored onward, dwindling into specks as they neared the foothills of the mountains and began to ascend. Eamonn and I watched them