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Kushiel's Pupil	By : Seraphis Category: G through L > Kushiel's Trilogy Views: 5699 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel s Trilogy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Kushiel's Pupil
- 2-TWO
- 3-THREE
- 4-FOUR
- 5-FIVE
- 6-SIX
- 7-SEVEN
- 8-EIGHT
- 9-NINE
- 10-TEN
- 11-ELEVEN
- 12-TWELVE
- 13-THIRTEEN
- 14-FOURTEEN
- 15-FIFTEEN
- 16-SIXTEEN
- 3
- 4
- 5
FOUR
Imriel came to escort mother and me to the house of Raul and Colette Zornín de Aragon. Father had declined to attend, and I thought, perhaps, it was because he was disinclined, simply, to attend on City nobles. As we were about leaving, however, I came upon my parents in an antechamber, heads close together, murmuring in the sort of tone grown-ups use when they disagree, but not significantly enough to argue.
‘You are certain you will not attend?’ mother cooed, her hand upon his breast. Papa chuckled low, and ironically.
‘I wish Nicola the joy of you, Phèdre,’ he replied. ‘Imri is an escort enough.’
‘Ah, but you never taught him to ward a charge.’
‘Do you expect to be unsafe in the Aragonian prince’s household?’
‘Ah, Joscelin,’ she said, and turned toward me, where I stood, nearly concealed at the corner of the hall. ‘Come, my little angel,’ she leant toward me, arms outstretched. ‘Say good day to your father. Imriel is waiting in the carriage.’
I sidled toward my father, and he embraced me. It was the only thing I did with very much grace, interacting with him. Perhaps he recalled the awkwardness of his own colt’s years, or mayhap it was simply a trick of my blood, but whether it was Cassiline forms, dancing or simply stepping into the circle of his arms, my father always made me forget my body’s half-grown inelegance.
‘I do not tell you to behave yourself, Ana,’ he pressed his lips to my forehead, ‘but I shall tell you not to be so solemn. Make friends of these children. They are not like you, but they are really not so bad as all that.’
‘Are they not?’ I grinned. ‘Well, I shall do my best to present Montrève in proper honour.’
‘It is well.’ He smoothed my hair, and the chiffon yellow dress which my mother had wrestled me into. ‘I shall see you for supper.’ He kissed mother, ‘and you, I shall tell to behave.’ He smirked, and she replied with a secret smile. ‘For supper, then.’ She promised.
We entered the carriage, which was adorned with the arms of House Courcel, driver and footman dressed in Royal livery. It was drawn by a pair of charming dapple-greys, but they were a strange breed, which I had not seen before, narrow-barrelled, with strong haunches, but long, slender legs. They could not, either, have been taller than fifteen hands, and I marvelled at how they could have pulled a vehicle, even with combined strength.

Imriel embraced me as I clambered into the coach, my mother clucking her tongue and murmuring about mud stains on my hem. ‘Ah, Phèdre, you will astonish the City of Elua, yet, with Ana. She looks a very picture of elegance.’ He paused, and studied me.
‘Although,’ he hesitated, ‘do you recall Alais at her age?’
‘Do not encourage her, Imriel,’ mother sighed. ‘She has such little interest in the little minutiae that I would have her learn, and yet, she is, every morning, at the forms with Joscelin.’
‘As was I.’
‘You were not the daughter of the most celebrated courtesan in three hundred years.’
‘I was her son,’ he replied quickly, ‘And besides, Ana shall learn a perfection of movement through the disciplines that never was afforded you in Cereus House.’
‘It is true. It is what I remember first, about Joscelin. How he was so damnably fluid, and beautiful.’
‘And Anafielle will strike a similar chord in the City of Elua when she attains her majority.’
‘Except I shall not be so beautiful as Papa.’ I said, and they both stared at me, astonished.
‘Do you think so?’ Imriel laughed. ‘It is just as well, Phèdre, he pressed her hand, ‘she shall not be simply another vain peacock.’
‘I fear as much,’ mother kissed me, ‘for neither she nor her father seem at all conscious of themselves.’ Then, pulling herself from her study of my young, open features, she returned to Imriel. ‘So, how fares Sidonie? And when shall you give Terre d’Ange an heir to follow her?’ Their conversation drifted, then to matters of the Royal family, then to various intrigues in which I had no interest. I dare say that if I had attended better to my mother and Imriel’s games of covertcy, I might have better comprehended many things in my childhood that I have since made sense of.
We pulled up in the courtyard of an elegant villa, which I immediately guessed was either owned by provincials or foreigners, for it was painted a peculiar shade of earthy red, and every trellis, gate, arabesque, and wall was covered in the vines of flowers which, in the spring, would be bright and colourful, if a little gauche. We were not announced, but rather, led by an attendant into the atrium, where a gaggle of children and parents were gathered round free standing tables, filled with easily-consumed pastries and sweetmeats. In one corner, a group of tumblers and a story-teller were entertaining several children, while in another, musicians played a lively air for dancing.
There were tables for games, piles of gifts, and guests interacting in pairs and groups. I fumbled for Imriel’s hand, feeling suddenly lost. He smiled down at me, and drew me forward, as a beautiful, bronze-haired woman, with l’Envers violet eyes came toward us. ‘Phèdre! Prince Imriel! How are you?’ she embraced my mother, and Imri kissed her hand.
‘And is this Anafielle Verreuil?’ she glanced at me shrewdly. ‘Well, could she be anything but Joscelin’s get?’
‘Anafiel,’ my mother said, ‘this is Lady Nicola l’Envers y Aragon. She is our host’s mother, and the queen’s cousin.’
I bowed to her, and she laughed. ‘Ysandre said something of this, to me.’ She bent, kissed me on both cheeks, and I felt no cloying remains of carmine from her lips. For that alone, I liked her better. She led us back toward a bard, laden with food. ‘Come, have something, and I shall alert Raul to your presence.’ She turned away, and my mother followed her, entrusting me to Imriel’s care, with a smile and a jest concerning my imminent fosterage.
‘Come,’ he took my hand, and led me to a little white chair, that had been adorned with ribbons of every colour, upon which was perched a girl, of my age, though of a far more delicate constitution, with dark hair and eyes, and an unbearably fair skin. There was somewhat in her stubborn mouth that recalled echoes of Lady Nicola, but there was another woman standing behind her, who resembled her far more strongly, though she was blonde and blue-eyed.
‘Imriel!’ she laughed, launching herself warmly into his arms. ‘I did not expect you to find time to come!’
‘I am escorting my foster mother and sister. Colette, this is Anafielle Verreuil, Viscomtesse de Montrève.’
‘Good day, vicomtesse.’ Colette Zornín kissed me gently. ‘This is my daughter, Eldora.’ She motioned toward the girl in the chair, who rose, and kissed me also.
‘Good day, vicomtesse, Prince Imriel,’ she said, ‘and welcome to my natality.’
‘Good day, and a joyous natality to you.’ I replied, and was pleased to witness a smile quirking the edges of her serious little mouth.
‘Will you have a game of quoits with me?’ she offered, waving her arm at a set of coloured wooden discs, and several pegs placed upright upon a board.
‘If it would please you, I should like it very much.’ I bowed, ‘And please, my name is Anafielle.’
‘I am Eldora.’ She took my hand, and led me to the set. ‘It is a game of sleight,’ she explained, when I had expressed my ignorance of the game, and went on to display the various flicks and turns required to settle a disc over the pegs, which colours procured the most points, and other subtleties of play, and I soon found that I was no mean hand at it. Eldora was a quick-witted and charming girl, with a peculiar talent for putting me at my ease, and we soon were laughing like a pair of the closest friends.
‘Is Laurient de Trevalion here?’ I inquired, as she passed my score by three points, and I attempted to throw a green disc over a purple stake, worth eight points together.
‘Laurient de Trevalion?’ she laughed. ‘Why are you asking after him? He is so ridiculous, thinking he shall be the Royal Commander some day.’
‘How is that ridiculous? His grandfather was, and his father has distinguished himself in Azzalle, or at least that is what is said.’
‘Well, yes,’ she paused, ‘but he does get ahead of himself, does he not?’ she gave a charming moue as my shot sailed home. ‘Oh, but you will win. I only have two more goes. And anyhow, where did you meet Laurient? I thought you had only been in the City of Elua for a little more than a week.’
‘It is so,’ I shrugged, ‘but he attended the Royal fête at which my fosterage was announced.’
‘Ah, by invitation of Prince Imriel, as I understand. That is true. Is he not your foster brother?’
‘He was fostered at Montrève before I was born.’ I replied.
‘Well, as I think you will be very interesting when you enter the palace,’ her brow creased a little, as she chose a red disc, and aligned her shot, ‘I shall give you a piece of advice.’
‘Advice?’ I attended seriously, for Eldora seemed to me to be a very worldly girl, with understanding beyond my provinciality. ‘Concerning Laurient?’
‘Well, we have not been speaking of anyone else.’ She flipped the disc over its peg. ‘Ah, only four points. Yes, concerning Laurient. He is a little much of an egoist. My mother says he is the very model of his father, both inside and out, and she does not overmuch care for Bertran de Trevalion, though they were friends, once. He treats her poorly, and has since she married my father. It is because she entered the Royal family by wedding a foreigner. And so what? My father is half Aragonian, and proud of it. Mother says that if it were not for my grandpère, in Amílcar, Prince Imriel should never have been recovered. And that is what I think of Laurient de Trevalion, as well.’ I did not see so well how this had anything to do with Laurient, but I had an instinct to hold my tongue, and my hand, and I submitted the game to Eldora. ‘Oh!’ she frowned a little. ‘You have allowed me to win, Anafielle!’
‘Well, and so,’ I replied, ‘it is your natality.’
‘You must not make such old-fashioned concessions to me.’ She took my hands in hers. ‘We are both children of brave new bloodlines, and we must be honest with one another if we are to be friends. Should you like to be friends with me?’
‘I should, very much.’ I said, eagerly. Eldora was, on that day, turning ten years of age, which, in Terre d’Ange, is a significant time, during which so many things are introduced.
‘Well, then, you must not ever lose to me a-purpose.’ She seemed very serious, and I nodded. ‘Oh,’ her nose wrinkled a little, ‘there is Laurient. He is coming this way.’
I turned quickly, and nearly ran into him. He was standing still, very close behind me, his hands in his pockets, and looking round, as though he had come upon us by accident, though by the glint in his grey eyes, I knew better. ‘Good day, Lady Zornín de Aragon, and Vicomtesse de Montrève.’ He bowed gallantly, smiling, and, while I smiled back, I heard Eldora emit a little huff of distaste.
‘Good day, Lord de Trevalion.’ We said, nearly in unison, but while Eldora spoke in a tone of thinly disguised annoyance, I saw no need to express anything but joy at seeing him.
‘Would you like to dance, vicomtesse? It is well to see you here. Mayhap we could discuss the letter I sent you.’
I spared a glance for Eldora. She was studying me critically, but I shrugged. ‘I should like very much to dance, my lord.’ I took his offered hand, and he led me toward the players in the corner, where a few other children and their parents danced. He swung me into his arms, and led me into the quadrille smoothly.
‘I see you have made friends with Eldora the Great and Powerful.’
‘She does rather seem to have made some harsh judgments concerning you, my lord.’
‘My lord?’ he chuckled. ‘Methought we were on friendlier terms. What then, has Lady Zornín convinced you that I am no more than a base and vile Boy, who is eschewed from all politeness and conversation?’
‘Well, you called me vicomtesse.’ I knit my brow in exasperation.
‘I did not know, Anafielle,’ he grinned, ‘how far you wished Eldora to think our acquaintance had progressed. Indeed, you have a strange way of making friends, going into opposite camps, as you have.’
‘How was I to know that you and she were at odds? I have not lived in the City for any length of time since I was a babe in arms.’
‘Well, it is true,’ he conceded, ‘but I find that I rather like you. Will, then, you sacrifice me to be friends with her?’
‘I see no reason to sacrifice either of you. I like the both of you, and I do not understand why you are not yourselves friends. You are both very certain of yourselves, and equally singular.’
‘Singular?’ he laughed. ‘Am I, then?’
‘She believes you to be the very image of your father, but I do not find it so.’
‘You have met my father and I once. Mayhap we will both alter your perception of our characters. But anyhow, will you come to the hunt, and ride with me? It shall be insufferably dull without you.’
‘My mother advises it, and my father does love to hunt. I think we shall attend, he and I. Shall I send a courier to you this evening?’
‘No, I shall myself inform our steward that you have accepted my invitation.’ He became a little serious, then. ‘I am glad, you know, that you have decided not to listen to Eldora concerning me, and I understand that a girl must have other girls her age to be friends with, but I fear she will not be so understanding that you desire my company.’
‘Well, it is her own folly, then.’ I shrugged, clinging a little more tightly to his shoulder as he turned abruptly off the floor. ‘Ah! Must you be so precipitous?’ it was a moment before I realised that I had thrown him to the ground, instinctively following the path of the piescat, which I had been practising that morning. ‘I beg pardon,’ I said quickly, ‘but you startled me.’ He grasped the hand which I offered, dusting his hands on his trousers, a rueful smile on his face.
‘Ah, it is nothing,’ he protested, ‘I did it a-purpose, to see what you would do.’

My eyes narrowed. ‘If you wished to try me, you had only to ask.’
‘Ah, but then you would have been prepared. I am, however, favourably impressed, and shall not embarrass you so again.’ I glanced round, and noticed that four or five others were looking at us with no little interest, including Eldora and Imriel, who was speaking with a man who could have been no one but Eldora’s father. ‘As it is,’ Laurient took my hand, pressing it warmly, ‘I apologise.’
‘No. I should better control myself.’ I bowed to him, and he laughed afresh.
‘You say that I am singular, Anafielle, but you are certainly the only girl I know who is capable of throwing me.’ He gave me his arm. ‘Come, meet some friends of mine.’ I accepted, and followed him. I had thought, momentarily, that he would introduce me only to other boys, but the friends he brought me to were an even mix, a brother and sister, by the names of Béringuier and Pléiades Roualt, the children of the Minister of Culture, a girl in whom the striking beauty of d’Angeline blood and a peculiar Eastern exoticism, whom he introduced as Yseulte l’Envers Shambarsin, the daughter of Valère l’Envers and the Khalif of Khebbel-im-Akkad, and two more boys, brothers, Estienne and Gaël de Morbhan, sons of the Duc de Morbhan, who were in the City of Elua with their mother. They were all polite and charming, and I recognised Béringuier and Pléiades Roualt from the letter their father, Thierry Roualt, had written, requesting my presence at some fête or other.
I drifted, then, between them, Eldora, and my mother. She introduced me to Raul Zornín de Aragon, Eldora’s father, and I liked him instantly. He was a serious, tall man, though with a sort of sweet, soft brightness hidden behind his dark eyes that reminded me of my own father. He took my hand, and kissed it solemnly, informing me that Imriel had spoken of me, and that he was very pleased to have me at his daughter’s natality.
By the time we were ready to return home, it was nearly sundown, and I was surprised to find that I did not wish to leave. I kissed Eldora farewell, and she said nothing of my closeness with Laurient. Neither did she display any significant coolness toward me for it.
When we returned, I found my father in the library, reading a letter from the Marquis de Toulard, detailing several improvements to the irrigation systems he and his Siovalese engineers had invented, and I settled in at his side, looking over his arm at the diagrams the marquis had drawn. ‘These wheels,’ I pointed to the mechanism, ‘if you build one up on the edge of Mont Jesmaine, the wind would be about sufficient to turn it, yes?’

Papa glanced at me, a smile warming his features. ‘You are truly a child of Siovale,’ he pressed me closer beneath his arm, ‘and yes, though Mont Jesmaine is a little far, and inconvenient to build a mill, for these operate to grind grain, as well as to move water.’
‘Truly?’ my eyes lighted upon a line of script in the marquis’ bold, square hand. ‘Oh, I see. There are a few alterations required before he builds one.’
‘Yes, though I’ve no doubt he will have one in operation before spring arrives.’ Mother entered here, and sat across from us, a fond smile playing across her lips. ‘Phèdre. How was the occasion?’
‘Joyous. Nicola spared no moment in reminding me that I had, yet, no grandchildren.’
‘You know, when we do, they shall be shared with both the Queen of Terre d’Ange and Melisande Shahrizai.’ Mother laughed at this observation.
‘Do you believe I had not thought of it, Joscelin?’ she shrugged. ‘Well, and so, Melisande is hardly an issue any longer.’
‘And Ysandre is?’
‘Mayhap.’ She replied, and it was papa’s turn to laugh.
‘Ah, Phèdre, you are incorrigible.’ He grinned. ‘Now, come along, Eugénie has toiled all afternoon to outdo the kitchens of Colette Zornín.’
~
Imriel returned the day following, at mother’s request, to discuss with her whether I should accompany him to the Shahrizai hunting manor. They were closeted immediately he arrived, and, when papa found me listening at the door, he pulled me away by the ear.

‘People always forget,’ he remonstrated, ‘how much of your mother is in you.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You shall have to be punished.’ He said, carefully. ‘Go to your room, and dress for riding.’
I stepped quickly, wondering if my father had taken leave of his senses, that he had forgotten how I loved taking Hephaestos out into the streets. I tugged on a pair of trousers, boots, and a warm riding jacket. When I met him in the stable, he was holding two horses. One was a high-stepping mare, warm-blooded, and very skittish, and the other, a slow-paced palfrey nag, with sprinklings of grey in her nose, and broad, boorish ears. ‘Papa,’ I sighed impatiently, ‘where is Hephaestos?’
‘You will not be riding Hephaestos, Ana. This is no reward, for intruding on your mother and brother’s privacy. You are not to do so with your family, and you shall learn it thus.’ He gazed evenly at me, and a little coal of stubborn resentment burbled up in me. ‘Now, choose.’ He offered both pairs of reins, and I hesitated. The young mare was one that I had often thought of riding, but it was Imriel’s, and brooked few riders beside him. I had seen her throw even Ti-Philippe, who, though he had been a sailor in his youth, had since learnt very well to sit a horse. On the other hand, to ride the palfrey was to die of boredom.
I believe I was pouting rather harshly, by the amused look on my father’s face. ‘But this is appalling!’ I exclaimed, ‘This is no proper choice!’
‘It is a choice for the young vicomtesse who values her family’s trust so lightly that she will listen at doorways to private conversations. Now, choose.’
I stamped my foot in a petulant fury, raging at a punishment so cruel for so small an act of disobedience. ‘Well, maman did not say I must not listen at the doorway.’
‘And you know very well that if she believed you would benefit from the conversation, that you would have been invited into it. Now, do not try my patience further, Anafielle, but choose your mount, or I shall make the choice for you.’
‘The palfrey.’ I said finally, for my foul temper had been caught, it seemed by the mare, and I had no interest in breaking my neck. Furthermore, if I chose the nag, papa would be forced to deal with Imri’s ill-tempered horse. I snatched the reins from him, and swung up into the saddle. I nearly expected the old creature to splinter beneath me, but she was no swaybacked dog fodder, to spill so light a rider. She had been a lady’s horse, once, and was still as strong as a mule, though, mayhap, her mouth was a little hardened with her age.
Papa mounted the mare, and to my astonishment, she quieted beneath him, till she was as gentle as a kitten. Without a word, he urged her out into the street, and I followed. The palfrey was, indeed, not so difficult as I imagined, but the habits I had formed from riding so swift footed a horse as Hephaestos did not so well accord with this one. She did not get up anywhere past a tottering trot, and I felt quite the prize fool when we rode populated streets, passing nobles on their fine, young mounts, behind papa’s high stepping mare, trailing him always by at least two lengths.
I followed him through the City of Elua, to the Temple of Eisheth on the fringe of Night’s Doorstep. There, we dismounted, giving our horses to waiting attendants. We were greeted by a priestess, an apple-cheeked woman who smelled of healing lavender oil, who led us into the shrine, where the statue of Eisheth extended both hands in welcome. Rows of candles were blazing at her feet, and I knelt instinctively. Papa sank beside me, and it was a moment before he spoke.
‘Mayhap, when you are older,’ he said softly, ‘and your sins are more dire, you shall have need of Kushiel’s stern benediction.’ I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. ‘For now,’ he continued, and I exhaled a rush of air in relief, ‘you may entreat healing from Eisheth, who called you forth from a scarred womb, when your mother and I prayed to her.’ I understood, then, how wise he was in selecting my lessons. He might had raged and beat me, when he found me peering into the keyhole of mother’s study, a cup pressed against the door to amplify what was passing within. He might have sent me to Kushiel’s Temple on the swift back of Hephaestos, under guise of a pleasure-jaunt, to have my sins expunged from me beneath a scourging, but he had, instead, led me painstakingly through the City at a snail’s pace, that I might either become sullen and angry with him, or begin to think on and regret my actions. He knew, however, that whichever path I chose, that I should become immediately penitent upon entering Eisheth’s divine presence.
‘I think I understand, papa,’ I stammered, my nose burning as I essayed to brook the emergence of my tears. I did not know why I so wished to weep. I was neither angry nor sad, and had never cried for any other reason, but the nameless emotion that filled me, swelling my heart nigh to bursting, demanded it of me.
‘It is forgiveness, my love.’ He pulled me into his arms, and I wept cleansing tears into his strong shoulder, quietly, holding very still that the other temple goers might not detect my sobs. My father held me tightly, till I finished, then produced a handkerchief, dipping it in a nearby fount and washing my face. ‘Now, are you better?’
‘Yes, papa.’ I sniffed, straightening my back and aligning my shoulders, the pride seeping back into me. This, however, was not arrogance, but rather an acceptance of who I was. My birth had been a miracle, in many ways, and that I had not been born an anguisette was another small mercy of Eisheth’s. In that moment, I was deeply conscious of all that I was, and the honour that had been conferred to me by mere existence. ‘And I shall essay to allow discretion when my family wishes it.’
‘Come, then, it is time to return home.’ He rose, pulling me with him. ‘Mayhap your mother and Imriel have reached a decision concerning the Shahrizai.
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Kushiel's Pupil