Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [36]
And a prayer, once made, could not be rescinded.
There were D'Angeline women who had gotten unwanted children.
Not many, for rape was a crime of heresy and punishable by death. Still, it happened; as did errors in judgment.
"What do you want?" I asked Alais.
She rested her chin on her propped hands. "I wouldn't mind," she said. "Alba, I mean. But it won't happen, so I don't know… do you know what I would like?"
I shook my head. "No," I said. "Tell me."
"I'd like to learn to use a sword." Alais' face brightened. "Would you teach me, Imri? No one else will."
I opened my mouth to demur, and the royal guards in attendance snickered. I watched the eager light fade from Alais' face. I thought about the stories I had heard; about Grainne of the Dalriada, who had ridden to war alongside her brother in her wicker chariot, fighting as fiercely as a man. I remembered Daršanga and the women there. I saw Kaneka's hand covering Gashtaham's mouth from behind, her dagger flashing. Blood spurting from the ka-Magus' throat, and Phèdre dragging me out of its spray.
"I would be honored," I said, drawing my bedclothes around me and bowing. "Princess."
Alais beamed.
The following day, I sent Gilot to fetch a pair of wooden practice-swords from the townhouse, but it was Joscelin who brought them. I was so happy to see him, I clambered out of bed and flung my arms around him.
"Gently, love!" He laughed. "You're meant to be a-bed still."
I made a face. "I'm weary of bed rest. Are you in disgrace? I've missed you."
"Only a bit." Joscelin lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He grinned at me. "I know. Well, now we've both been punished for our folly. What's this about teaching Princess Alais to use a sword?"
"She asked," I said simply. "And I said I would."
Joscelin nodded as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "I brought the daggers, too," he said. "Better to start with those; the swords are a bit heavy."
So it was that I regained my strength by teaching my young cousin to wield a blade. I started with the simplest rudiments, reckoning her interest would flag. If nothing else, I could teach her how to hold a weapon, and those areas on an opponent which are least guarded and easiest to strike.
To my surprise, I found it was fun. Alais was a quick study, and neat-handed. One I had taught her a few basic thrusts and parries, we made a game of it, playing out roles of villains and heroes, chasing one another around the bedchamber under the amused gazes of her guards. At first I found them galling, but it brought Alais such joy, I was hard put to resist. In time, I learned to forget their presence.
And she was clever; skipping around charcoal braziers, ducking behind hanging drapes, vaulting atop the bed. I stumbled after her in pursuit, dizzy and easily winded. On a few early occasions, I was forced to surrender, laughing and gasping for air. It took several days before I was steady enough on my feet to catch her without a considerable effort.
It was in the midst of such a game that the Princess Sidonie paid a visit.
The guard announced her at the precise moment that a cornered Alais let out an earsplitting shriek and launched an attack at me. I was laughing too hard to hear aught else. I took the brunt of her onslaught, staggering and catching her dagger-hand. We both fell backward onto the bed and I twisted, falling uppermost and pinning her.
"Surrender, villain!" I cried, raising my wooden dagger.
Alais giggled breathlessly, hiccoughing.
"Let her go!"
The words rang with the unmistakable tenor of command, brittle and furious. I turned my head and saw Sidonie standing in the doorway. Her slight frame was rigid, and her face was pale and taut. Her black Cruithne eyes were stretched wide, blurred with terror and fury.
I knelt on the bed, opening my hands and dropping the dagger. The guards moved forward uncertainly.
"Hold," I said to