Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [62]
"I'm sorry," Mavros said abruptly, breaking our long silence.
I halted, watching the water tumble over gleaming rocks. "The fault was mine."
"Not entirely." He stood beside me. "I begin to think mayhap the Shahrizai have an imperfect grasp of what it means to be Kushiel's Chosen."
I prodded the ground with my stick. "It's true, though. What you said."
"You wish it were not?" he asked. "Why?"
I nodded. "I can't help it. Mavros…" I sighed and tossed the stick away. "It's hard. I cannot explain it."
He sat down on a dry tussock of grass. "I told you that Kushiel is merciful," he said slowly. "It is a hard and demanding mercy. If we are the dark mirror of the world's desire, then I think mayhap Phèdre is the bright mirror of ours, showing us those things we cloak in pride and vanity. I beheld my own pettiness in her gaze, and I did not like what I saw."
"I'm familiar with the feeling," I murmured.
"And yet you are ashamed of her?" he asked, curious.
"No." I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. "I don't know! Why did it have to be my mother?"
"Oh." Mavros' tone changed. "Yes, well… yes. That must be awkward."
I lowered my hands and glared at him. "Awkward?"
He shrugged. "What do you wish me to say, Imri? The situation is what it is; I cannot change the past, any more than you can. You're carrying around a world of fear. I cannot help you if you refuse to confront it. No one can," he added, "not family, not Phèdre. You have to face the mirror yourself."
"Which one?" I asked dryly. "Bright or dark?"
"Both of them." He laughed. "Listen to me! Deigning to speak to you of fear."
I smiled a little. "Ah, well, you're not wrong."
"No." Mavros rose, dusting his hands. "But you're not ready. And as Roshana reminds me, I am supposed to practice patience." He held out his hand. "Are we friends?"
"Friends," I said slowly, clasping his hand. "All right, yes."
"Good." He grinned. "I don't fancy going another round with you! You're a nasty fighter, cousin."
So it was that our final days passed in amity. In the end, I was both saddened and relieved to see the Shahrizai depart. I had grown fond of them, fonder than I had reckoned. Mavros had spoken truly; they were a dark mirror, and there was much of myself I saw in them that I did not disdain. But too, there were other things.
Their escort came for them on the appointed day, and we gathered in the front courtyard to bid them farewell. They looked as splendid as they had when they arrived, and I could not help but feel a certain pride at their beauty. Baptiste whooped and shouted, standing in his stirrups and turning his mount in a tight circle; Roshana smiled and blew me a kiss. Mavros raised his hand in farewell, winking.
"I'll see you at Court, cousin!" he called.
Once again, nothing had changed, yet everything was different. I had a sense of myself that was different and new. I was a member, albeit at a distance, of a strange and exotic family. And if I was not prepared to embrace this bond wholeheartedly, neither did I regard it in abject horror.
Other things had changed, some to my sorrow. In the month of my Shahrizai cousins' visit, I had grown apart from Charles. Although our friendship endured, he seemed to me younger than he had before, and simple and rustic in his desires. At the same time, Katherine had grown more mature. Whatever else had transpired in the meadow, Roshana had spoken truly; Katherine had learned somewhat of herself during their visit that she had not known before. She moved with a new surety, aware of her own blossoming sensuality and confident in the knowledge. It made me wonder at the cause.
After the Shahrizai had gone, I watched her set her sights once more on Gilot.
This time, there was no simpering. She stood, easy and sure, and crooked her finger at him; and he trailed after her, blindsided and besotted.
It would have made me laugh, had it not hurt. I'd had my chance, there in the meadow, and I let it slip