Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [29]
Still, her memory lived, and where I went, whispers followed. At Court, I treated everyone I met with unfailing politeness; but I was wary, and I got a name for being aloof.
Midwinter came upon us, and with it an invitation to the Masque at the Palace. It was one of those rare things that showed up the divide between Phèdre and Joscelin. I hated to see them argue; but over this, they did.
"Will you not accompany me?" she asked. "Surely, Blessed Elua can spare you."
He shook his head. "It is the Longest Night, Phèdre. I ask for little. If nothing else, let me keep his vigil."
"Even now?" she said. "What of Imriel?"
It was the first year I had been invited to attend; a courtesy of Ysandre's, recognizing that I was no longer a child. There was a part of me that yearned to do so. Long ago, before Daršanga, the idea of a grand fete with fancy dress would have delighted me. Even afterward, I'd held a fondness for it. I still remembered plotting with Favrielle nó Eglantine to make Joscelin splendid, wearing the lion's mane that had been a Jebean queen's gift. But, too, there was a part of me that abhorred the idea, yearning for something simpler, clean and pure.
"What of Imriel?" Joscelin retorted. "Have you asked him?"
Both of them looked at me then. I squirmed under their scrutiny.
"What will you, love?" Phèdre asked gently.
I opened my mouth and blurted, "I want to go with Joscelin."
Phèdre raised her brows. "Are you certain?"
I wasn't, not at all. And yet Joscelin looked surprised and pleased; and proud, too. I imagined the two of us, kneeling side by side in the Temple of Elua, stern and disciplined. It was a picture I very much relished.
"Yes," I said. " I'm certain."
That got me one of Phèdre's deep, searching looks; one of those that owed nothing to the arts of covertcy, and everything to the fact that she had held the Name of God in her mind, and there was little or nothing in the human soul that could be concealed from her.
"As you will, love," she said simply.
"What of you?" Joscelin asked her, and there was an edge to his voice. "You know there is… speculation."
Somehow, word had gotten out that Phèdre had made the pilgrimage to Naamah's shrine. Ysandre's court, which was not overly concerned with the disposition of my holdings, was keenly interested in whether or not the most famous courtesan in Terre d'Ange would return to Naamah's Service.
"I know." Phèdre smiled, touching the bare hollow of her throat. "Let them wonder. You keep your vigil in your way, and I in mine."
What it meant, I could not say; but Joscelin seemed satisfied with it.
And so it was that on the Longest Night, when all of Terre d'Ange celebrated the sun's return and the lengthening days to come with a riot of love and libation, that I found myself in the Temple of Elua, shivering and miserable.
We rode there alone, Joscelin and I, while the setting sun threw long streaks of red fire in the western skies. Elsewhere in the City, the revelry had already begun. Twilight settled over the streets, challenged by music, shouting, and torches. Above the river, the Palace was ablaze with light; farther inland, Mont Nuit echoed its brilliance. There would be a fate there, too, hosted by Cereus House, welcoming all the adepts of the Night Court.
The streets were crowded with early revelers; most on foot, making way for the carriages that forged a path through them. Overhead, the sky grew dark, stars emerging. I marveled at Joscelin's composure. He sat at ease in the saddle, starlight glinting on his steel vambraces, the hilt of his sword jutting over one shoulder. Everyone who passed gave us a wide berth.
I wanted to be like that.
It was cold. Our horses snorted, their breath frosting in the cold air. Near the Temple of Elua, the streets grew quiet. We dismounted, giving our mounts to the ostler, then passed through the gate into the vestibule. There we were met by blue-robed priests and priestesses. They welcomed us, smiling, giving us the kiss