Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [78]
Betimes the desire was so intense, it seemed to swell my whole body to bursting. Such a vastness seemed out of place in the pleasant, bantering courtship that went on at the Palace; and what I wanted was neither tender or sweet, but dark and intense, tinged with the odor of violence and the stagnant-water stench of the zenana. And so I shied from it as a horse will shy at a high fence; and like a spooked horse, I built it higher in my mind.
"I'm not ready," I said to Gilot as we rode home that night. "Not yet."
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Any readier and you'll burst, Imri."
"I'll take that chance," I said.
Gilot shrugged. "As you will."
It was that, as much as anything, that led to my decision regarding the Longest Night. Once again, I was invited to the Queen's fete. It was taken for granted that I would attend this year, not only because I had fallen ill after maintaining Elua's vigil last year. I had grown easier at Court; I had made friends, all of whom would be in attendance. Everyone expected me to go, even Joscelin.
It was at the dinner table that I announced otherwise. "I want to go with you to the Temple of Elua."
Joscelin dropped his fork with a clatter and stared at me. "After last year? No. Oh, no."
Somewhat to my surprise, Phèdre did not refuse me out of hand. Instead, she turned her searching look on me, until I squirmed in my chair. Silence stretched and grew around the table. Out of nowhere, unbidden, a vision of her lodged in my head, accompanied by Mavros' voice. Melisande put a collar around her neck, a velvet collar with a diamond…
"All right," Phèdre said mildly. "But dress warmly."
"Are you out of your mind?" Joscelin asked her.
"No," she said in an absent tone, still looking at me. I had the horrible feeling that she could see the vision in my head. Her brows creased, a little furrow forming between them. "This is what you want, love? How you want to deal with it?"
I nodded fervently.
"Well, then, let him," she said to Joscelin. Her gaze sharpened. "Only this time, don't be a fool about it."
"I'll do my best," he said, fixing me with a wry look. "You will say something if you're on the verge of perishing of cold this time?"
"I will," I said. "I promise."
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
This year's vigil at the Temple of Elua proved less traumatic. It was long, it was bitterly cold, and at times, deadly dull. Wearing an extra layer of thick woolen attire and a heavy, fur-lined cloak, I knelt and shivered beside Joscelin while the City reveled, and this time I gained no epiphany for my efforts, nor words of prophetic warning. But I survived it with no ill effects, and I left feeling clear in my thoughts and pleased by my own hard-won self-discipline.
It had an unexpected effect at Court.
Of course, I had to hear about the marvelous gala I had missed—the costumes, the dancing, the varying liaisons that resulted from the Longest Night. It is ever a time of license in a City not known for its restraint, and in the eyes of my male friends I was a fool for forsaking the opportunities it afforded. But in the eyes of the women, what I had done was a gesture of great and terrible romance.
"I can't imagine!" Marguerite Grosmaine shivered at the thought of it. "Why do they do it? Why did you do it, Imriel?"
"Cassiel's servants do it to affirm his choice and the sacrifice it entails," I said solemnly. "I do it because I owe my life to Joscelin and to Blessed Elua, whom he serves."
"That's so lovely," murmured Colette Trente. "So noble!"
"So foolish," muttered her brother Julien. "If you ask me."
I shrugged. "I owe a debt."
It was true; and yet. I was conscious of using it for my own ends. I saw the way Marguerite looked at me. She had long, red-gold hair. I imagined seeing it fanned across a white pillow, and hearing her ragged breath gasping lewd words