Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [44]
Not everyone is meant to be a hero.
I did stab a man once, on Phèdre's behalf. It was in Saba, on the isle of Kapporeth, on the very doorstep of the Temple of the Holiest of Holies. I spilled blood on sacred ground. The Sabaeans would have killed me for it. It was Phèdre who intervened. She offered herself in my stead, and they accepted it. I remember sunlight gleaming on the bronze blade, and turning my head to see the door of the temple opening, and the tongueless priest framed in the dark doorway, clad in a robe of white linen.
I cried out, and the Sabaean captain stayed his hand. And Phèdre walked into the temple, and when she emerged, she held the Name of God, and the glory of it shone in her face.
I wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if the door had not opened. If I would have let it happen. If I would have had the courage and the swiftness to throw myself in front of the blade.
I wondered about a lot of things.
Well, that was what passed for lighthearted, at least for me. When we reached the borders of Montrève, I put such thoughts from my head. Remembering the lesson of the Longest Night, I gave myself over to rejoicing.
The estate of Montrève was beautiful. It lay upriver from the village and the manor was nestled in a green valley, surrounded by low mountains. The valley held gardens and a small olive grove. The lower slopes were terraced, and given over to chestnut orchards; the province of Siovale was famous for its chestnuts. A bit farther up, there was pasturage for the sheep that were Montrève's primary source of wealth, and a cluster of stone cots perched on a plateau for the shepherds who tended them.
Beyond that, the mountains were wild. Forests of spruce and oak grew there, and there were unexpected meadows filled with flowers. There was a spring-fed lake, round and perfect, that Joscelin and I found my first summer, and there were caves, too. Although Montrève was a small holding by some standards, it was large enough to contain secrets.
There was an escort to meet us. We had been spotted on the road, which was as it ought to be. Denis Friote, the oldest of Purnell and Richeline's clan, was leading them. And among them, to my surprise, was Charles, his younger brother.
"Charles!" I shouted his name.
"Imriel, hey!" He rode over to me, grinning. Leaning over in the saddle, he thumped my shoulder with his fist. "Well met, your highness. What have you been up to? You're skin and bone."
I thumped him back. "Nothing you'd understand, I reckon."
"Oh, aye, the secret doings of nobility." He nodded, brown curls bouncing on his brow, and ran his thumb over the hilt of his sword in a casual gesture. "I'm perishing with envy." He paused, eyeing the daggers at my belt. "Those are nice, though."
"These?" I asked carelessly, and saw Joscelin's head turn slightly, one corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. "They are, aren't they?" I added with haste. "So, you're riding with the guard now?"
"Sometimes." Charles shrugged, then burst out laughing. "Ah, Denis let me come, he knew I was pining after it. Otherwise, they say I've got to wait until next year. But it's good to see you, Imri."
"And you." I thumped him a second time, his shoulder solid and meaty under my fist. Charles, too, had grown in the past year. "How are you? How is the clan?" I paused. "Katherine, and the others?"
He grinned. "Come and find out."
* * *
Chapter Ten
We found Montrève in fine fettle, as always. The chestnuts were thriving, the high pastures were lush and green, the sheep grazed in placid good health, lambs gamboling at their side. Every surface and every item within the manor house had been dusted and polished and waxed to a fine gleam. The stables and the kennels and the mews were immaculate. All the accounts, as always, were in order.
And Katherine Friote was infuriating.
For a start, it was the way she hugged me. She ran into the front courtyard and flung both arms around me as I dismounted, crying, "Imriel!" I held her in