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Cassiel's Daggers	By : bewaretheshort1 Category: G through L > Kushiel's Trilogy Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever, own Kushiel's Legacy, or its affiliates written by Jacqueline Carey. Any characters and/or ideas are the exclusive property of Jacqueline Carey. Furthermore, I do not make any money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 2
- 3
- 4
As I had told Lucien, the date of my leaving was set a fortnight from my birthday. Preparations were made for my journey, and a tension developed between me and Emil. One day, after a particularly trying argument that left us both frustrated with the other, I told Etaine of it. She listened to my words without comment, watching her son play in the corner of the garden with a serene expression. This, I had learned it the four years, meant she was thinking.
“I don’t know why he’s so angry with me,” I complained to her. “It’s not like I did anything to him.”
“You’re leaving soon,” she reminded me gently, running a hand to smooth my hair. “Your brother is unaccustomed to the thought of you being gone from his life. The two of you have been together since birth.” She smiled down at me. “Forgive him for it, Edouard, and be patient with him. He is already missing his brother sorely, and knows of no better way of showing it.”
Her words made little sense to me then, and while I was comforted by them they did little to quell moody antipathy I felt from my brother. Matters were not helped when a Cassiline Brother arrived a week before my schedule departure to escort me to the Sanctuary.
He was a tall man, with the lean, muscled build common in Hellene art and sculpture. His clothing was the typical garb of Cassilines, all dove grey and ashen, and his hair had grown to match it, being iron grey with age. Despite this, his carriage was that of a young man’s and his eyes no less sharp for the wrinkles set around them. He bowed to meet my family, and regarded me with steely eyes.
“It is a privilege and honor to attend,” he said and even his words sounded grey to my ears. I felt myself shiver at the thought of becoming like that, but an agreement is an agreement, and I was minded to honor my hasty promise to Lucien.
Brother Gautier, my Cassiline escort, wasted no time in determining my level of education. He tested me on my knowledge of history until my head swam from it, and quizzed me in Caerdicci for so long, I was hard pressed to speak in my native D’Angeline afterward. Next, it was mathematics, and then what little I knew of politics. When it was over, I felt exhausted as if I had run a mile, and throughout it all Brother Gautier remained stoic and never gave a word of praise or disapproval. I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or disappointed.
Emil pretended as though Brother Gautier wasn’t there, and even went so far as to ignore my own presence at times, especially if I were with Brother Gautier. As disheartening as Emil’s attitude was, more so was the sadness in my father’s face. He regretted, deeply, giving way to my childish whim and dedicating me to the Brotherhood. It pained me to cause so much sorrow to my father, but there was naught I could do for it. He took to finding me and watching me with haunted eyes. Etaine did what she could to comfort him, but he would take none from her. He was wroth with her, as she had been the one to give me the idea in the first place.
Meals were strained in their silence. Father and Emil sat quietly, grief and anger turning their motions into something much less graceful that I was used to. Though united in their emotions, Father’s anger was directed at Etaine while Emil wholly blamed me. Etienne, young as he was, was only able to detect that something was amiss, and like to fuss more because of it. His mother did what she could to keep him calm, but spoke little herself. I, who felt as out of place as any interloper, could only eat in silence and bear the discomfort.
What Brother Gautier made of our family drama, I do not know. He watched everything with stoic, gimlet eyes, and never gave anything away of his own thoughts. I have since seen skilled courtiers who revealed more than a Cassiline Brother. He was as quiet as the rest of us, but there was no undercurrent to his silence as there was to every other member of the household.
Finally, the day came that I was to leave. I was risen before dawn to bathe and dress, and when I arrived in the receiving hall, I saw that Brother Gautier was waiting for me. Father was there, as was Etaine, but Emil was missing. I grieved, then, to see no sign of my twin.
“Edouard,” Father said, sinking to one knee to embrace me. Though I was ten and half-grown with it, he was still so tall that he just missed meeting my gaze. “I will miss you more than words can say, but I cannot tell you how proud I am of you this day.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Father,” I mumbled, struggling to keep the tears from my eyes. A cool hand found its way on my shoulder, and I looked up at my stepmother. Her sapphire eyes shone overbright, and I knew that, like me, she was holding back her tears.
“You will be a great asset to the Cassilines,” she told me. “I know you will never give them cause to regret taking you in. Just promise that you will write.”
A grey voice cleared its throat, and we all turned to Brother Gautier. For the first time since his arrival, his face bore an expression that was not stoic. He looked almost apologetic, or as apologetic as he was able to get.
“I’m afraid he won’t be able to do that,” he told my parents. “He must cut all ties outside the Brotherhood this day on, and this includes family. I’m sorry.”
I felt my father’s hands tighten and his jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought that he would damn all consequence and attack the Cassiline. His soldier’s discipline won out, though, and he nodded curtly. He turned to me, dark eyes glittering with unabashed sorrow.
“I love you, Edouard d’Aiglemort,” he told me. “You will always be my son, no matter what those bastards at the Sanctuary say. Mine, and Nicola’s.”
With that, he rose and offered me a Camaeline salute. Etaine watched with a blank expression. There is much that Etaine knew, and I say this as one who knew her, she did not know that Cassiline boys were prohibited from writing home. She nodded to me, her beautiful features schooled to show no expression.
Brother Gautier put a hand on my shoulder and led me to the door. We were nearly out when a pained cry echoed through the room. I turned in time to see Emil racing towards me. He flung himself at me with all the strength and speed his Camaeline training had given to him, and I fell to the floor.
“Edouard, I’m sorry I was mean to you!” he cried. “Please, please don’t go without saying good-bye!”
The tears that had threatened since I woke began falling. “I’m sorry, too, Emil! I’m so sorry!”
“I’m going to write every day, I swear it! They can’t stop me from writing! I’d like to see them try!”
I do not know how long we lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, before Brother Gautier cleared his throat once more. I pushed Emil off of me and hugged him one last time.
“I’ll miss you so much,” I whispered to him. “I’ll come back some day, I promise.”
“You have to swear it,” he told me fiercely. “Swear it by Camael’s Sword and Cassiel’s Daggers, and I’ll believe you.”
I heard Brother Gautier sigh, and ignored it.
“I swear it, by Camael’s Sword and Cassiel’s Daggers, that I’ll come back,” I told him, matching his ferocity. Emil must have believed me then, because he shoved me away and ran to the back of the chateau. I picked myself up from the floor and looked up at the ever-stoic Gautier.
“I’m ready,” I told him.
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Cassiel's Daggers