"Well. Perhaps you should have been more specific."
The sun had passed behind the mountains, but the daylight hadn't yet
taken on the ruddy hues of sunset. This was not night but shadow. 'The
andat stood at the window, looking out. A servant had come from the
palaces earlier bearing a meal of roast chicken and rich, dark bread.
The smell of it filled the house, though the platter had been set
outside to be taken away. He hadn't been able to eat.
Cehmai could barely feel where the struggle in the back of his mind met
the confusion at the front. Idaan. It had been Idaan all along.
"You couldn't have known," the andat said, its tone conciliatory. "And
it isn't as if she asked you to be part of the thing."
"You think she was using me."
"Yes. But since I'm a creature of your mind, it seems to follow that
you'd think the same. She did extract a promise from you. You're sworn
to protect her."
"I love her."
"You'd better. If you don't, then she told you all that under a false
impression that you led her to believe. If she hadn't truly thought she
could trust you, she'd have kept her secrets to herself."
"I do love her."
"And that's good," Stone-Made-Soft said. "Since all that blood she
spilled is part yours now."
Cehmai leaned forward. His foot knocked over the thin porcelain bowl at
his feet. The last dregs of the wine spilled to the floor, but he didn't
bother with it. Stained carpet was beneath his notice now. His head was
stuffed with wool, and none of his thoughts seemed to connect. He
thought of Idaan's smile and the way she turned toward him, nestling
into him as she slept. Her voice had been so soft, so quiet. And then,
when she had asked him if he was horrified by her, there had been so
much fear in her.
He hadn't been able to say yes. It had been there, waiting in his
throat, and he'd swallowed it. He'd told her he loved her, and he hadn't
lied. But he hadn't slept either. The andat's wide hand turned the bowl
upright and pressed a cloth onto the spill. Cehmai watched the red wick
up into the white cloth.
"Thank you," he said.
Stone-Made-Soft took a brief, dismissive pose and lumbered away. Cehmai
heard it pouring water into a basin to rinse the cloth, and felt a pang
of shame. He was falling apart. The andat itself was taking care of him
now. He was pathetic. Cehmai rose and stalked to the window. He felt as
much as heard the andat come up behind him.
"So," the andat said. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think she's got her legs around him now? Just at the moment, I
mean," the andat said, its voice as calm and placid and distantly amused
as always. "He is her husband. He must get her knees apart now and
again. And she must enjoy him on some level. She did slaughter her
family to elevate Adrah. It's not something most girls would do."
"You're not helping," Cehmai said.