Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [341]
"Gerard de Mereliot," he said. "The Lady's son and Captain of her Guard."
I clasped his hand, keeping a wary eye on the Bastard. "Imriel."
"Don't I know it!" Gerard laughed. "Mother's nearly bursting. You know she counts Phèdre nó Delaunay among her most valued friends? We've been on the lookout for news, any news, for weeks now. I daresay the courier's already on his way. She…" He looked past me. "All. I'm sorry. A friend?"
I turned to see Romuald and the other guards hoisting the carrying-poles of Gilot's casket. "Yes," I said honestly. "Would that I'd been a better one to him." My eyes stung, and I rubbed them with the heel of my free hand. I'm done with weeping, I'd said to Gilot as we left the City of Elua. No more, do you hear me? "My apologies," I said now to Gerard de Mereliot. "It's been a… difficult… journey."
He nodded. "I understand."
After that, Gerard was all tactful efficiency; ordering his men to assist with Gilot's casket, presenting Captain Oppius with a purse of coin to be distributed among his men as a token of the Lady's thanks.
I was grateful for it. As glad as I was to be safe on D'Angeline soil, it was a bittersweet gladness. It was impossible to retrace the steps of my journey without feeling Gilot's absence; impossible to rejoice at the prospect of being reunited with the people I loved best in the world without feeling a shadow of sorrow and guilt hanging over me.
Try not to brood so damnably much…
He knew me too well, Eamonn did. I wished he was here and not headed to an unknown fate in Skaldia, giving me one more damn thing to brood over. The thought made me smile a little. I gave the Bastard into Romuald's uneasy care and went to bid farewell to Oppius, who was also a difficult man around whom to remain brooding.
"Oppius, my friend," I said to him. "My thanks to you."
I'd caught him squirting the contents of a wineskin into his wide-open mouth. He lowered it with a grin, wiping his lips. "The pleasure was mine, friend Imriel. If you ever have need of a ship, send for the Aeolia."
"That I will," I said.
"Ready?" Gerard called.
He was waiting; they were all waiting. I reclaimed the Bastard from Romuald and mounted. In the distance, the Dome of the Lady glittered. Beyond the borders of Marsilikos lay the road home. Taking a deep breath, I turned my back on the harbor, on Captain Oppius and the Aeolia, on the last vestiges of my Tiberian adventure.
"I'm ready," I said. "Let's go."
* * *
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Roxanne de Mereliot, the Lady of Marsilikos, was a gracious hostess.
I'd met her before and liked her. When Ysandre had been a young Queen thrust into an unsteady perch on the throne, faced with treason and invasion, the Duchese de Mereliot was one of the few nobles she had dared trust. Phèdre held her in high regard and a great deal of fondness.
I'd behaved badly the last time I saw her, though. Until we arrived at the Dome of the Lady, I'd forgotten. It had been at a fate in her honor that I'd danced with Sidonie and we'd quarreled. I'd left rudely and without word, trailing loyal, worried Gilot in my wake. That was the night I'd gone to Mavros, and Valerian House.
It felt strange to remember.
If Roxanne de Mereliot remembered it—and I daresay she didn't—she'd long since forgiven me the slight.
"Ah, child!" she said simply. "I'm so glad you're here."
There were tears in her eyes as she embraced me. She was rising seventy, and the coal-black hair her son had inherited was mostly grey, but she had fine dark eyes, filled with compassion and warmth. I returned her embrace, thinking to myself, No more tears.
"Thank you, my lady," I said to her. "So am I."
We passed the night there. I'd had it in mind to set out immediately for the City of Elua, accompanied by Lady Denise's guards, but the truth was, we were all weary after the long, storm-tossed night. Even the Bastard was off his feed, which was a rarity. A night's respite would do us all good.