Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [74]
I gritted my teeth.
Nicola turned to Ti-Philippe. "And since you were gallant enough to cede it," she said mischievously, "I shall do you the courtesy of returning it." It was prettily done, and she kissed him to cheers of approval.
For the remainder of the day, we ate and drank and played such games as the Queen decreed. Servants filled the cider press with apples, and everyone took a hand at turning the crank. A set of quoits inlaid with silver filigree was brought forth, and there was a roar of protest when Joscelin stepped up to take his turn. With good grace, he submitted to being blindfolded with a silk sash; even so, he acquitted himself well, pausing and listening for the sound of the discus hitting the pin. I daresay with enough practice he might have won. Although I am no Cassiline, I have good aim, and I came near to winning at quoits; but a few lucky tosses by a young lord named Hubert Arundel put me out of contention.
And somewhere in the course of the day, I realized I was enjoying myself.
As twilight settled over the orchard, servants moved around with tapers, hanging oil lamps of clear glass until it looked as though a shower of stars had fallen to adorn the stripped apple trees. The day's lively entertainment had given way to the tranquil pleasures of song and conversation. When it grew time to leave, I found, to my surprise, that I was sorry to see it end.
"Thank you, your majesty," I said to Ysandre. "It has been a rare pleasure."
"Too rare." Ysandre smiled. She put out a hand as though to touch me, then halted. A shadow of distant sorrow surfaced in her gaze. "You know it has ever been my wish that you feel a welcome and beloved member of House Courcel, Imriel."
I wondered if it had wounded her that I had to be compelled to Court, yet had freely invited my mother's kin to Montrève. I had not given it a thought; now I saw the discourtesy in it. Once again, absorbed by my own private agonies, I had been thoughtless.
"I know, my lady," I said softly. "And for that, too, I am grateful."
Ysandre shook her head, her wreath of crysanthemums rustling. "I seek no gratitude," she said. "But I am pleased that you enjoyed this day."
"I did." Because it was true, I smiled at her. "Very much so."
I turned away to see the Dauphine Sidonie regarding me with a considering look. In the charmed illumination of the faery-lights strung from the apple trees, she looked very pretty. At thirteen years of age, one could see the face of the woman she would become beginning to emerge from the face of the girl she was. Tonight it held an unwonted softness instead of her customary hauteur.
Filled with goodwill, I accorded her the sweeping bow I had given Alais earlier. "Cousin, I bid you good eve!"
"Thank you." Sidonie's lips twitched. She cocked her head in a manner that reminded me of Phèdre, continuing to consider me. What thoughts passed behind her dark Cruithne eyes, I could not begin to fathom. "You know," she said at length. "You're not so bad when you smile, Imriel."
"My thanks, your highness," I said wryly.
If she had been older, I would have sworn her expression was one of suppressed laughter; then it passed, and Sidonie inclined her head to me, raising it with an imperious tilt of her chin. "You're very welcome, I'm sure."
No matter what their age, women are a mystery.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
After the fête in the apple orchard, I found it easier to be pleasant at Court, relinquishing some of my aloofness. Sidonie's observation, irritating as it was, held a measure of truth. Once I allowed myself to relax and smile, I found a number of people were willing to smile back at me. I even made some friends among them.
There were always young gentry at Court. While their elders vied for influence or status, the younger folk played at love. For most D'Angelines, courtship prior to marriage was a long, drawn-out affair. It began at an early age and continued for years. Save for the scions of ruling sovereigns