Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [324]
Remember this.
No one spoke. After a time, Eamonn leaned over touched my shoulder. I looked into his grey-green eyes, knowing he shared the same memories. There were others there, too. A wedding celebrated in joy, a bittersweet farewell.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "I've got a wife to find."
"I'm ready."
I turned the Bastard, who snorted and surged forward. Quentin LeClerc gave the order and our company continued, passing beyond the first curve of the gorge. Gilot's wagon lurched and rattled. The road climbed upward, mountains rising around us. Above us, beneath the blue sky, the banners of Terre d'Ange snapped in the breeze.
Behind us, Lucca disappeared.
In the distance, Tiberium waited.
* * *
Chapter Sixty-Five
It was a swift and uneventful journey.
We rode hard, pushing the horses and the tireless mules, pausing only long enough to catch a few hours of sleep at night in makeshift camps. Quentin LeClerc apologized for the hardship. Eamonn and I laughed. Although we'd been sleeping softer in Lucca, we'd been living harder. We were used to going short of sleep.
At night, we talked about the battle. I found out he'd lagged behind when Valpetra's men charged us, trying to safeguard his "hares" flight.
"I got caught," he said ruefully. "Too slow." He'd seen me trying to reach him, there at the end. He laughed at the memory of it in a way that only Eamonn could. "Twirling around like a high-priced whore on an acrobat's stage," he said, grinning. "Gallus Tadius would have whalloped you a good one."
I rubbed my fading bruises. "I know."
We talked about Canis and my mother, though not much. Eamonn wanted to speculate; I didn't. The nearer we drew to Tiberium, the more I felt the shadow of the Unseen Guild hanging over me. I didn't want it to touch him. Being Eamonn, he didn't press.
We spoke of Lucius and the tremendous reserve of courage he'd found within himself to carry through with his charade of Gallus' plan, adapting it as circumstance dictated.
"He was good," Eamonn marveled. "So good! I tell you, if I ever have to fight again, I hope it's under someone half as good. If he hadn't sent for you that night, I'd never known aught was amiss." He eyed me curiously. "What did you say to him, anyway?"
"Not much." I smiled. "But I got him to sleep."
Eamonn snorted. Being D'Angeline, I let him wonder.
We spoke of friendship and loyalty. I'd come to understand a good deal more about friendship during my time in Tiberium; and Lucca, too. It required a standard of honesty and openness I'd shunned in my dealings with everyone but Eamonn. I was resolved to do better to meet it, henceforth; and to demand it in turn, too.
We spoke of the Duke of Valpetra, and the mortal demons of avarice, ambition, and vengeance that may possess men, as destructive as any supernatural force. We spoke, in hushed Eiran, of Bernadette de Trevalion and the devastating madness that lay seeking to wreak retribution for past sins in innocent blood, passing down hatred from generation to generation. And when we had done speaking of the past, we spoke of the future.
"Have you decided what you'll do about it?" Eamonn asked. "Will you accuse her?"
"No," I said slowly. "No, I think not."
"It's a hard thing, choosing to be the one to put an end to a blood feud." He picked up his whetstone. "Worth doing, though. So you'll wed Dorelei mab Breidaia, then?"
"In the late spring." I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees, gazing at the campfire and trying to remember what she looked like. Dark eyes, Cruithne eyes. Sidonie's face surfaced in my memory. I pushed it away. "Will you come?"
"Mayhap." Eamonn ran the whetstone over his sword, head bowed and intent. His coppery hair spilled over the bandage that still bound his wound, glinting in the firelight. "It depends."
"On Brigitta?" I asked.
He nodded. "She may be awaiting me in Tiberium, or she may already be on her way to Skaldia. I don't know. But I will find her. And if I can come, I will."
I lay back on my bedroll, folding my arms beneath