Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [40]
"I wish you would visit more," she complained. "You're better now, aren't you?"
"Much better," I said. The lingering aftereffects of my sickness had vanished at last, leaving me thin but hale. "I'm sorry, Alais. I've been busy, that's all."
She wrinkled her nose. "Doing what?"
"Practicing," I said. "Fighting villains."
That earned me a look of disgust. Alais had a child's keen sense of when she was being humored. "You will, you know."
"Will what?" I asked.
"Fight villains." She nodded. "I dreamed it. You were helping a man with two faces."
I almost laughed, but I didn't. Alais had dreamed true things before, though never anything so fanciful. Small things, usually, that came to pass. "Two faces? Did he have a face on the back of his head?"
"No." Alais shook her head. "He didn't wear them both at once."
"Ah," I said. "He wore a mask, then?"
"No," she said patiently. "He had two faces. And you were older."
"Why was I helping him?" I asked. "Was he a friend?"
She considered the question. "One of him was."
Though I questioned her further, I got no more from her on the subject of the man with two faces; instead, she extracted in turn a promise from me to visit before we left for Montrève. I gave it gladly enough, though I could not help glancing at Sidonie as I did. There was a pink flush on her cheeks as she met my eyes, but she held them as coolly as ever.
It was galling, but at least it was a familiar annoyance.
Once the ordeal of my natality was behind me, I set my sights on Montrève. Summer could not arrive soon enough for me that year. I was tired of the City, and yearned for the freedom of the countryside. I longed for open air, to scramble over the mountains and swim in the brisk streams. I wanted to see the puppies from last year's litter, grown into young dogs, long-limbed and gawky. I wanted to see Charles Friote and measure my growth against his; I wanted to boast to Katherine how I had endured Elua's vigil on the Longest Night. I wanted to be surrounded by people whose loyalty was as solid and dependable as the earth itself; villagers, country folk, the manor household.
And of course, there were the Shahrizai, who were none of those things.
They were coming. The matter had been discussed at length. Joscelin, predictably, misliked the idea. Although he would never say it, betimes I think he would not mind if the province of Kusheth fell into the sea, taking every last member of House Shahrizai with it.
"I made a promise," Phèdre said to him. "Would you have me renege on it?"
He gritted his teeth, and I knew he was thinking about a diamond strung on a frayed velvet cord and a note reading, I keep my promises. "Unless her kin have lied, this has nothing to do with Melisande."
"It does," she said. "I promised to let Imriel make his own choices."
"Unto the point of folly?" Joscelin asked. Phèdre raised her brows at him, and he had the grace to look abashed. "All right," he grumbled. "But they're not bringing their own guards to be lodged at Montrève."
"They're not asking to," she said dryly. "It seems they have confidence in the ability of the Queen's Champion to ensure their safety."
It wasn't a real argument, though. They had made up their quarrel over the Longest Night, for which I was glad, having been the cause of it. When Joscelin looked mortified at the thought of defending the Shahrizai, Phèdre laughed and kissed him until he forgot his concerns, and all was well between them.
Afterward, she consulted Ysandre, that the arrangement might be made openly with no hint of intrigue. I daresay the Queen shared Joscelin's misgivings, but she had accepted the Shahrizais' oaths of loyalty, and there was little she could do without giving insult. So it was decided, and letters flew back and forth from the City of Elua to Kusheth, until all was agreed.
They would not come until midsummer, and I was just as glad. I wanted Montrève to myself