Kushiel's Scion (83 page)
So the first step was taken, and I felt stronger for having made a decision and acted upon it. It was not the life I envisioned for myself, no. I wanted… what? I wanted what I had yearned after for a long time; to be a hero, like Joscelin. To love with the same desperate ferocity, to do impossible deeds. But such a destiny was vouchsafed to only a few, and it came at a terrible price. I knew; I'd seen him in Daršanga, and afterward.
It was not my lot, and I should be glad of it. I had a chance to do good in my own way. To pave the path of peace, to rise to the challenge of being tender and kind. To being a good husband to Dorelei, a Cruithne stranger with a lilting laugh. That would be my sacrifice, because I wasn't tender and kind, not really. I craved more.
But perhaps it would be enough to try.
Canis had said so.
So had Asclepius.
After I left the embassy, I sent a note to Claudia Fulvia. It was the second step, and harder than the first. Her reply came quickly, arranging for a rendezvous at the atelier of Erytheia on the morrow.
I kept the appointment. After so many, it felt strange not to strip and pose. Erytheia was working on another panel, but she eyed me with interest as I wandered her atelier, and Silvio watched, too, going quietly about the business of grinding pigments.
"We could use you," she said at length. "If you would be willing to sit… ?"
I shook my head. "Once was enough."
She nodded. "As you wish."
It wasn't long before Claudia arrived, and Erytheia and Silvio took their leave without comment. I watched the quiet nod the women exchanged, and knew with certainty that which I had wondered. Whatever other arrangement there was between them, the artist was complicit in Claudia's plans; the plans of the Unseen Guild.
"What is it?" Claudia made no move to touch me. The slanting sunlight turned her eyes to amber, and her gaze was curious and wary. "Are you well? You look… peculiar."
"I'm fine," I said. "Claudia, it's over."
A flicker of fear crossed her features, gone almost before it could register. "Over?" she asked lightly. "Oh, but Imriel! We've scarce begun. I was so proud to hear how you dealt with Caccini. You've a knack for this, you know." She smiled, coming toward me. Her hand rose to brush my lips, trailing down my throat. "And I have so much more to offer you."
My body stirred at her touch, but it was an automatic response, nothing more. For the first time, I didn't feel as though I were sliding helpless into the pit of desire. My thoughts remained clear. I stood outside myself and saw Claudia. I saw cleverness, cunning, and ambition. I saw her carnal nature, powerful and abundant, and the delight she took in it—wielding it as a weapon and a tool for her own pleasure. And I saw their shadow-sides, too. Fear; fear of failing the Guild. Fear of aging, of no longer being found desirable. Fear that the young D'Angeline lover she held in thrall would wake up one day and find himself repulsed by her.
I could have turned it against her, but I didn't.
"I'm sorry," I said gently. "Claudia… a day ago, I meant to beleaguer you with questions." I fished the broken pieces of Canis' medallion from my purse. "How do the members of the Unseen Guild acknowledge one another? Who is Canis and what is the meaning of the secret message inscribed here? And yet…" I tightened my fist, crushing the fragments, and let them trickle to the floor. "I find I don't care."
She inhaled sharply. "How can you not?"
I shrugged. "You know, it's easier than I would have reckoned. I don't want it, Claudia. You…" I paused. "You've given me a great gift, bur the price is too high. The guilt, the secrecy… I don't like lying to my friends."
Her breast rose and fell rapidly. "Coward!" she spat.
"No." I thought about it. "Claudia, if we loved one another, no price would be too high." I accorded her a courtly bow. "You are all that is glorious in a woman, and I will always be grateful to you for showing me what it means to plumb the depths of desire. I have worshipped your body with every part of mine, and I have no regrets. But when all is said and done, we do not love one another, and you know it."
For a moment, her face softened; and then it set in harsh lines. "And the Guild? Do you forget my warning?"
"No." I took a deep breath. "Anafiel Delaunay took his chances and walked away from the Unseen Guild. So will I."
"You're a fool!" Contempt laced her voice. "Delaunay could have prevented—"
"So you said." I cut her off. "But no one can know it for certain."
She trembled with anger. "You'll run back to her, won't you? Delaunay's little protegee, cocksure and ignorant! What gives an aging D'Angeline whore the right to think she can challenge—"
A wave of fury swamped my composure. "Enough!"
"You don't like that, do you?" Claudia laughed. "Oh, Imriel! Your precious Phèdre is overmatched here. You may cling to your foster-mother's skirts and have naughty dreams about sharing her bed, but don't think for a minute that she can protect you—"
"Enough." I repeated the word softly. "Don't provoke me."
Her chin raised in stubborn mutiny. "Do you dare threaten the Guild?"
"I do." I squared my shoulders. "And you, too, if you think to threaten me in turn. I'm sure Deccus would be quite interested to learn of our affair. Claudia, I will not expose the Guild. But understand, if anyone dear to me is harmed, I will break that promise. And if I am harmed…" I paused. "Yes, you will have Phèdre nó Delaunay on your doorstep; Kushiel's Chosen, filled with righteous fury, with the Queen's Champion guarding her back. She will ask questions, and she will find answers. It is what she does, and she does it well. And then you and the Unseen Guild will have the wrath of Queen Ysandre de la Courcel upon you, and the Cruarch of Alba, too."
"Politics," Claudia retorted. "The Guild doesn't fear politics. The Guild is politics!"
"No?" I asked. "How about the Master of the Straits?"
She was silent.
"He's real, you know," I said to her. "He can command the seas to rise, rain to fall, and the wind to blow. And he's not bound to the Straits, not anymore. Phèdre freed him, although she went through untold hell to do it, and Joscelin with her. I know; I was there." I smiled at Claudia. "His name is Hyacinthe, and he is her childhood friend, her one true friend. I imagine he could sink the port of Ostia beneath the waves if he took a fancy to do so."
Claudia had turned pale, very pale. "He wouldn't dare."
"Why not?" I asked. "What possible threat could the Guild use to deter the Master of the Straits?" I shook my head. "Claudia, let us both be wise and part as friends. I will stay for your brother's wedding, and then I will go. And nothing more will be said of this, ever."
"It's not that simple," she whispered. "Not for me."
"I say it is." I extended my hand. "Shall we part?"
"Friends." She pronounced the word bitterly. "You leave me little choice."
I shook her hand gravely. "There are worse things in the world, Claudia Fulvia."
To that, she made no reply.
Thus, the second step, that was in some ways the hardest. But once it was done, I felt good. I'd spent so much time and effort running away from my life and identity that it felt good to reclaim it.
I spoke to Eamonn that evening in private, just the two of us in a dark corner of the wineshop. We spoke in the Eiran dialect, which was one tongue I could be reasonably certain no casual bystander would know. I was rusty enough in its usage myself. If for some reason the Guild had set spies on me, well and so. If they were that determined and clever, there was little I could do about it.
I told him about Claudia.
Not about the Unseen Guild, of course; I wasn't fool enough to test their limits. But I told him about our affair. How it had begun, and how long it had continued. He let out a low whistle at the initial revelation, then sat quiet and listened while I told him the rest. I told him, then, of my night on the isle of Asclepius, and my decisions that had followed.
"I'll miss you," he said. "I understand why you're leaving, but I'll miss you. I'm glad you're staying for Lucius' wedding." He gave me one of his shrewd looks. "So it's over, then? You and Claudia Fulvia?"
"Definitely," I said.
Eamonn swirled his wine, then drank. "It's funny," he said pensively. "This would be nothing in Terre d'Ange. But here…" He glanced at me. "Do you think she'll talk?"
I shook my head. "She has her reputation to uphold."
He smiled a little. "Sounds like heavy lifting from what you say. Imri, are you going to tell Lucius?"
"Gods, no!" I shuddered. "No, I plan to tell him the truth about who I am. I reckon I owe him that much. But I don't think he needs to know I've been bedding his sister."
"I suppose not," he mused. "May I tell Brigitta?"
"About Claudia?"
"No." Eamonn grinned at me. "About you, your highness."
"You trust her?" I asked.
"Aye, I do," he said simply.
I thought about it. "Give me a couple days to talk to Lucius. And mind, while I've come to terms with the fact that I can't hide from who I am, I'd rather not have it noised about, either. At this point, it would just be compounding folly." I laughed. "You don't suppose she'll want to stab me through the heart for the honor of Skaldia once she knows, do you?"
Eamonn pursed his lips. "I don't think so."
It was another day before I had a chance to speak to Lucius. A message arrived from the Temple of Asclepius that Gilot was ready to come home. He had derived as much benefit as he could from their healing skills; from this point onward, only time and rest would help. I went to the market with Anna that morning, and we purchased an array of cushions and thick bolster pillows to make him more comfortable.
Her daughter Belinda accompanied us. She swung on her mother's skirts and chattered incessantly, no longer shy of me. I laughed when a mortified Anna tried to hush her.
"I don't mind," I said. "I used to know a little girl much like her."
"At the Palace?" she asked, then flushed to the roots of her hair. "Oh!"
"It's all right," I said gently. "Gilot told you, I know. Just don't speak of it in public. But no, it was at the sanctuary where I grew up. Her name was Honore," I said to Belinda. "I taught her how to climb trees when she was only five years old. Have you ever climbed a tree?" She gazed at me with wide eyes and shook her head. "Well, mayhap I'll teach you, when you're older." I smiled at her. "Only a little one to start. And no honey trees, Belinda. That's where the bees live."
"I like honey," she said solemnly.
"Oh, so do I. But you have to be very careful, or the bees will get angry that you're stealing their honey." I made a buzzing sound and snaked one hand through the air, landing to give her plump cheek a soft tweak that made her giggle. "And if you get stung, we'll have to slather you in mud," I added, provoking a fresh fit of mirth. "All mud, head to toe."
Anna regarded me with astonishment. "You're very good with her."
I smiled wryly. "You needn't be so surprised."
She flushed anew. "No! It's just… I think you have a kind heart, that's all. And I begin to see why… why Gilot won't leave you, even though he grumbles."
I nearly made a self-deprecating comment, then caught myself. "Thank you," I said sincerely. "It's good of you to say so."
We fetched Gilot home that afternoon, and he did grumble. He grumbled about the ungainly splint on his right hand, his own slow-moving progress and general uselessness. He grumbled when I made him ride in a hired litter, and when we propped him up on his pallet he grumbled about the cushions being like a damned pasha's boudoir. And then he fell asleep, exhausted. His face looked thin and worn, still faintly discolored around the eyes.
"He's so beautiful," Anna whispered, stroking the hair from his brow.
I perched on a chair, watching them. "Yes."
"Listen to me, saying that to you" Her soft laugh caught in her throat. "But you're like something out of a picture or a song, and he's… he's just Gilot. I can touch him, I can hold him. I never thought I'd feel that again, not like this." She bowed her head, but not before I saw the sheen of tears on her cheek. "Do you think he'll be all right?" she asked in a low tone.
"I don't know, Anna," I said honestly. "I hope so. But it will be difficult. He was a swordsman. It's all he's ever known, ever since he came of age and joined Phèdre's service. I promise, he'll want for naught. But he's going to need you, you and Belinda, to give him a reason to live."
She was still for a moment, then gathered herself, wiping her eyes. "Belinda. Forgive me, my lord. We're imposing. I'll take her home."
Belinda was sound asleep on my pallet, thumb in her mouth.
"Will she take a fright if she wakes here?" I asked. Anna shook her head. "Then stay." I rose. "I'll find lodging elsewhere."
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