Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [70]
"Oh, will you make me the villain, then?" Joscelin asked dryly, winding a lock of her hair in his fingers. "Don't, Phèdre. I made my peace with it long ago. I survived Daršanga, though it nearly destroyed me. And for three years you have trod on eggshells because of it, attempting to protect me from what I know full well. I am telling you, Nicola is far easier to bear."
"Joscelin." She breathed his name, lowering her head to kiss him. I drew back into the shadows. "You're sure?"
I could not see him when he replied, but his voice was breathless and half-laughing. "Sure? I stand at the crossroads and choose, again and again. How can you ask?"
She answered him without words. I would have left then, save that I heard my name when Phèdre did speak.
"It's not only you," she murmured. "It's Imri."
"Yes," Joscelin said. "I know." I peered around the doorway. He had both hands sunk deep into her hair, and was gazing up at her. "Would you live a lie for his sake, love, and pretend to be somewhat you are not? Because I do not believe, in the end, he would thank you for it."
I did leave, then. I stole away and returned, making a noisy, cheerful entrance. I caught them out, flushed and laughing. D'Angelines are not shy in matters of love. If I had not eavesdropped on them, it would have been nothing more than one of those silly, joyous moments such as may occur in a small household.
And insofar as they knew, it wasn't.
"Imriel, my love." Phèdre smiled at me, running her fingers through her disheveled hair. "Did you have a pleasant time gloating over your new gift?"
"Yes, thank you." I smiled back at her, and lied. "Very pleasant."
Any other time, I suspect she would have known it; but I had caught her in a moment of distraction. And it was Phèdre herself who taught me the nine tell-tales of a lie. As well as she knows them, she was not terribly good at dissembling.
I learned that evening that I was.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
There was some gossip at Court, though not as much as I expected. Once again, it seemed I was the last to learn what every other living soul in Terre d'Ange had known. The Lady Nicola had been more than a favorite patron. Phèdre had given her a lover's token long ago. It was something Naamah's Servants did on occasion, exalting a favorite from the status of patron to lover. It was the only time Phèdre had ever done so. No one expected her to do aught else but resume the liaison. They were more interested in whether or not she would return to Naamah's Service, a matter on which Phèdre had remained silent.
Still, letters bearing offers came every week.
There was nothing strange in it. In Terre d'Ange, such liaisons were commonplace. Blessed Elua was free from jealousy, and we strive to emulate his example. Betimes we fail, being mortal and weak, but we strive.
I knew this. It was part of my earliest teaching in the Sanctuary: Elua's precept, Love as thou wilt. And yet, I struggled with it. All that I had learned in childhood, I had unlearned under the Mahrkagir's tutelage. I had been so proud of the understanding I had gained during my reading of The Journey of Naamah. And though I could cling to it in my thoughts, in my heart it slipped away from me the first time Phèdre returned home from a liaison with the Lady Nicola.
It was the way she looked.
I used to see it in the zenana, when the Mahrkagir sent her back, at once pain-stiff and languid. A part of her went away at those times to a place where almost no one could follow. I hated it then, and I hated it now. I could not even wholly say why.
"Are you all right?" Joscelin took her cloak. He had remained at the townhouse while Ti-Philippe escorted her, but he made himself greet her upon her return.
"Yes." Phèdre smiled up at him. Her dark, wide-set eyes were soft and unfocused with the aftermath of desire, the scarlet mote floating in the left. When she shrugged out of her cloak, one sleeve of her