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He doesn't hear her approach—Gurney never has been able to mark the Lady Jessica's footsteps—but the reflection she allows him to catch in a dim window is enough warning to avoid the disorienting jolt of being snuck up on.
Gurney assumes the glimpse is entirely intentional—that she is being kind and doesn't want to startle him. And while he dislikes knowing she could easily take him unawares, he appreciates the gesture. In any case, he can't bring himself to resent the subtler skills that come from her Bene Gesserit training, considering she seems determined to teach every such advantage to her son.
The fact that Paul Atreides has inherited so much of his mother's witchery pleases Gurney. Layers upon layers of protection. Between everything he and his colleagues have taught the ducal heir, and this more complicated inheritance, Paul has every advantage that can hope to keep him safe.
Gurney turns to acknowledge Jessica's approach, momentarily abandoning his routine inspection of palace grounds.
"My Lady." He inclines his head, as close to a bow as she ever permits from him. He doesn't ask what she needs. If something were wrong, she wouldn't be wearing the faint flicker that is almost a smile at one corner of her mouth, crinkling the otherwise smooth skin into a soft dimple. It's an expression that reminds him so powerfully of Paul that Gurney's chest tightens, and he prays his face won't give away anything of his inner landscape.
The Lady Jessica has always seen too much, too easily. It would make her an invaluable asset to their duke, even without the love that binds the two beyond all decorum and reason.
"Will you walk with me, Gurney?" she asks, and he thinks he detects a hint of dry humor in her voice.
"Of course," Gurney says without hesitation. Yes, he is technically on duty. He is in the middle of a task that, though repetitive, he will still need to finish. But even if he didn't hold a healthy deference toward the Lady of Caladan, Gurney would bend to this request without protest.
He falls into step beside her. Curiosity and tension twine through his gut in equal measure, as he turns his back to Castle Caladan and moves away toward the rolling hills of the outer grounds. Gurney does not activate his shield, but his gaze flickers down to Jessica's hand, his vigilant soldier's instincts requiring reassurance that she's properly equipped to venture beyond the safety of the keep. Gurney strongly suspects she would not need a body shield to protect her in the unlikely event of attack, yet he feels infinitely better on spotting the familiar glint of metal.
When his gaze rises again, unmistakable amusement glints in her expression.
Gurney flushes at being caught out, even while another voice in his head insists that she honors him by allowing such honest emotion to show on her face.
They have reached the start of a winding, rocky path without any additional words passing between them. Gurney allows himself to relax as they walk, moving together at a sedate speed, side-by-side beneath the roiling clouds of Caladan's stormy sky. If not for the weather satellites in the atmosphere, Gurney might worry about a torrent of rain opening over their heads. But there is no rain scheduled today, and no departing space flights apt to upset the delicate balance keeping those weather systems in check.
The sky can threaten all it likes. The only element that will actually touch them is the relentless and constant wind.
Perhaps sensing that Gurney has lapsed into this calm and curious ease, Jessica asks without breaking stride, "Are you in love with my son, Gurney Halleck?"
Gurney's steps falter and he jolts to a stop. A flood of frost rushes through his chest, icing over his insides at the question—his worst fears realized—a prelude to accusation and consequence. Surely she would not be asking if she hadn't already seen too much, and Gurney's mind scrambles in search of any clue towards how he might have tipped his hand. But he can't begin to guess. There are too many possibilities, despite how endlessly careful he's tried to be.
Gurney Halleck has never mastered the skill of concealing his heart.
When he raises his eyes from the pebble-scattered path, he finds Jessica stopped a couple steps ahead of him. She's turned to watch him, her face gone to an unreadable mask, so different than the friendly intimacy she allowed only a moment ago. Gurney doesn't understand. Why did she approach him with such an air of kindness, if she intended to confront him with this?
He won't lie to her. Only a fool lies to a Bene Gesserit, certified truthsayer or not, and his stubborn core of loyalty will always win out in any case. He can no more lie directly to the Lady Jessica than he could to his duke. She may not bear the Atreides name, but she is House Atreides all the same, and Gurney's devotion belongs as surely to her as to Paul and Leto.
His devotion to Paul, which has grown to eclipse all else, does nothing to alter the weight of duty pulling him in other directions simultaneously.
But he also can't bring himself to voice the truth, and so he meets her interrogation with a question of his own. "Why would you ask me this?"
She blinks at him, slow and considering, before answering with terrifying candor, "Because I know my son, and he is very much in love with you."
Gurney's heart leaps into his throat at the profound simplicity with which she speaks these words. His head spins a little, and there is an awful moment in which he fears his knees will buckle beneath him. Fuck. The last thing he needs, in this moment of certainty that he's about to lose everything that matters to him, is the humiliation of collapsing in front of his accuser.
There is infinite patience in the bland attention with which Jessica holds him trapped, and Gurney wills his stomach to settle, his breathing to calm. He won't do himself any favors by panicking. If it feels strange to use battlefield techniques to quiet his nerves for a mere conversation, Gurney pays this strangeness no mind. He needs to meet this unsettling instant with steady senses if he's to assess the scope of the catastrophe.
"My Lady," he says at last. "Whatever I feel for Paul, I would never hurt him. Never. I swear it, on the memory of my family."
"Oh, Gurney." Jessica's expression loses the masterful veneer of control, letting him in once more. Something soft and wry touches her expression now. "I know you wouldn't. Do you think I'd be talking to you at all, if I doubted your character?"
Gurney's brow furrows. "I don't understand."
She grants him a quick flicker of a smile, then tilts her head to indicate the path before them. Her expression falls serious again, as she resumes a sedate pace, footsteps clicking on stone. Gurney follows, bewildered, hurrying along until he is once again beside her, matching her stride.
"I want the truth, Gurney," she murmurs, her low voice as intense and earnest as Gurney has ever heard. "Nothing more and nothing less."
Gurney thinks of Paul Atreides, and possessive affection twists inside him. He thinks of the ancient book of ballads Paul found and gifted him, smile bright as morning when he put the delicate parcel in Gurney's hands. He thinks of the winded flush painting Paul's cheeks, as Gurney grudgingly stepped away from an ill-advised kiss. He thinks of the sleepy and utterly contented sound Paul made, waking in Gurney's arms this morning, both of them pretending they had all the time in the world.
But Jessica is not demanding these details.
Gurney forces himself to an honesty that feels like he is ripping open his chest to show her the heart beating inside. "Paul means everything to me, My Lady. He's my entire world. If you're going to charge me with treason for it, I beg you to make sure it's quick. It will only hurt Paul, to see a tribunal drag out the inevitable."
Jessica shakes her head. "I'm not charging you with treason, Gurney."
He gapes at her sober profile, nearly stumbling over uneven rocks before returning his attention forward to mind his steps.
"Why not?" he rasps, incredulous and yet wild with renewed hope.
The laugh Jessica breathes is a musical thing, for all its dry exasperation. "Do you really think me so short-sighted? Would I destroy my son's most devoted protector, simply because I find the shape of his devotion distasteful?"
It stings a little, to hear this admission, despite his relief that she doesn't seem angry. Of course Jessica disapproves. How could she do otherwise, on learning a trusted counselor has been concealing a dangerous and indefensible affair with the duke's only heir?
"What will you do?" he asks, forcing the words past a throat gone dry.
"I will do nothing." Jessica sounds suddenly tired. "My son is a grown man. He can bed whomever he likes. It's you I needed to be certain of. I thought I knew you so well, Gurney. And yet I didn't anticipate this."
They walk in silence for a time. The air between them is uncomfortable, and with every step Gurney feels shaken to his core. There's no point asking for further reassurances, or protesting good intentions that he does not have. Gurney won't promise to stay away from Paul.
He isn't that strong.
Finally they reach the crest of the tallest hill, a vantage point that provides a dramatic view of fields rippling with long grass, distant peaks and cliffs, water crashing on rocky shores. So many shapes to an endless horizon, and all of them Caladan.
Gurney makes himself look at Jessica and study the contemplative planes of her face.
"You must be careful, Gurney," she says without looking at him. "I can't protect you if Leto finds out."
Gurney's heart lurches. He does not like considering Leto, or the potential consequences he will face if his duke discovers what Gurney has done.
"I know," he says, and turns his gaze outward across the windy and shivering bluffs.