Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [32]
I thought about what the priest had said of love.
You will find it and lose it, again and again.
It seemed a harsh fate, and yet, strangely, there was comfort in it. The priest had not offered me false kindness. I preferred a hard truth to a well-meant lie. There would be love, and while it was mine, I could cling to it. I could rejoice—in life, in the existence of love. In the existence of people like Phèdre and Joscelin. Although the standards they set were impossibly high, still, I could rejoice that such courage and compassion existed in the world.
I could hope and aspire.
Blessed Elua, I thought, forgive me. I am unlike them, and my faith is imperfect. There is a part of me that cannot forget. There is anger in my heart, and a darkness within me which I fear. And yet I have come here tonight. Lend me strength, and I will try, wherever my path leads me.
There was no answer, but as I gazed at Elua's gentle smile, a sort of peace settled upon me. My anger, my fear, my pride—Blessed Elua was above these things. It felt good to confess to them in my thoughts, to lay them before him and ask his mercy.
I resolved, then, to offer up this night's suffering as a sacrifice; a penance for my doubt, for my anger. Three hours of shivering and freezing had dispelled any romantic illusions of my own fortitude. I had come in pride and vanity, and whatever foolish whim had prompted my words. I could not hope to match Joscelin's discipline.
But I could suffer and endure. That, I could do.
Much of what followed that night fades in memory. Hour by slow hour, the faint cries of the horologists tracked time's passage. I grew colder, so cold I began to tremble violently. Since I didn't want to shame Joscelin with my weakness, I wrapped my arms around my body and bent over double, my brow touching my knees. I felt the presence of Blessed Elua looming over me, filled with compassion and regret. A sense of mystery touched me, like the brush of a vast wing. Perhaps, I thought, even gods must make difficult choices. Without words, I told him that I forgave him what had befallen me, that I understood it had been needful.
Then the mystery went away, and there was only endless misery. I huddled and held myself, rocking and shaking on the frozen ground. My bones ached to the marrow. All my joints became locked and rigid save my jaws, which I could not stop from chattering. Using my chin, I worked a fold of my woolen cloak between my teeth to silence the noise.
At some point, the cold went away.
There was a mighty clamor in the City when dawn's first rays pierced the eastern horizon. In the Palace, in the Night Court, everywhere across the City, people cheered and drank joie. In the Temple of Elua, there were only stifled groans of relief from the two Cassiline Brothers, and the slow lift of Joscelin Verreuil's bowed head.
This, I sensed without seeing. With my own head pillowed on my enfolding arms, I smiled drowsily at a clod of soil. The sparkle of frost was beautiful in the grey light of dawn.
"Imriel!" Joscelin's voice was hoarse and alarmed. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, stooping over me. "Name of Elua, what was I thinking?"
"I'm fine," I said; or tried to say. My lips were too stiff to move and my mouth was clogged with wool. With an effort, I worked it free and spat it out. "Let me sleep."
"You're freezing to death," he muttered. "Why didn't you say something?"
I felt his arms slide under me then, preparing to lift me, and I struggled, waking. "No!" I croaked. "I can do it."
"Messire Verreuil." It was one of the Cassilines who spoke in a flat tone. "Permit us to assist you with the Prince."
"No," I whispered, raising my head. I met Joscelin's eyes. "Please."
After a moment, he nodded. Rising, he took a step backward. "The Prince," he said, "does not require your aid."
It hurt to awaken. The cold returned, and with it came pain. I unfolded my arms, placed my palms on the cold hard earth,