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“Bring an army across the Straits and stop her.”

“Yes.” I stroked the oiled wood. “Unless the Master of the Straits barred the crossing. And for the price of freedom, he might consider it.”

“Hyacinthe?” It was odd to hear him spoken of thusly. “Never.”

“Never.” I tasted the word. “Ten days ago, I would have said I would never have given my aid to Melisande Shahrizai of my own will. And my never is a good deal shorter than Hyacinthe’s, Joscelin.” I remembered the despairing eyes of the Tsingano boy I’d loved looking out from the face of the Master of the Straits, immortal power trapped in a mortal body. In the back of my mind, a grasshopper chirruped a dry warning. “Now, no. In ten years … mayhap.”

Our horses’ hooves beat a rhythmic tattoo on the road while Joscelin considered my words. Travelling has its own pace, its own meter. “You’re probably right,” he said at length, and glanced at me again. “Still. It matters not, not any more. And I think you handled her well.”

“I tried.”

It was true, I think; I had done well. Once, only once, in my career as an
anguissette
in Naamah’s Service have I given my
signale
, that password commanding a patron to cease, overriding all false protests and demurrals. It was to Melisande Shahrizai. I have had patrons more brutal, gleeful in their abuse, who left marks on my body that took many weeks to heal. I have never had any patron who played me with such consummate skill. But I had conducted myself well in her presence, yes. Apart from my initial shock at her request-and who would not react thusly?-I had remained in control, showing no sign of the weakness inflicted upon me by fate.

And now I ached with desire in every part.

Kushiel’s Dart was pricking hard.

Joscelin realized it, in time. We had been together too long for it to be otherwise. Once, long before we were lovers, he had despised it in me. It was Joscelin who had been there the morning after that Longest Night, when I gave Melisande my
signale
and she strung her diamond about my throat. And it was Joscelin who had been there when I had awakened, sick and betrayed, after Melisande sold us into captivity in Skaldia. Even then, even in the depths of betrayal and self-loathing, I’d had no defenses against the craving she roused in me. She was a scion of Kushiel such as the world has never seen, and I was Kushiel’s Chosen, the only
anguissette
born in living memory. We were connected in a manner nothing born of rational thought and the mind’s volition could touch.

I could no more cease wanting her than I could stem the tide.

After that terrible second morning, I think Joscelin understood, at least a bit. And Skaldia … Skaldia changed everything between us. When did I discover that I loved him? I cannot even say. When I realized it, it came as something I had known for a long, long, time.

Somewhere, somehow, life without him had become unthinkable.

It didn’t alter my desires.

To his infinite credit, Joscelin spoke no word of reproach but gave to me what solace he could that night where we took our lodgings. On the rough-spun blankets of our rented bed, he laid aside his self-discipline and made love to me with all the savagery of his heart.

It helped, some. I clutched at his back, feeling his muscles work violently beneath his skin as he drove himself into me, burying my face in the crook of his neck as his hair fell in shining ribbons about us both and salt tears dampened my cheeks. It wasn’t enough. Peerless warrior though he was, there was no cruelty in Joscelin. I ought to know; I loved him for it. Yet even as he stiffened above me on rigid arms, spending himself, and my ardent body responded, it wasn’t enough. My skin craved the kiss of the lash, the bite of a keen blade. I longed to kneel in abject surrender, whispering obscene pleas.

I could not have been more miserable if I had.

Somewhere beyond us, Kushiel smiled pitilessly.

It would have been different, if anyone but Melisande had been the cause. This was a yearning that came upon me from time to time; when it did, we both of us knew it was time for me to take a patron. I can pick and choose, now, as I do thrice a year. Delaunay’s
anguissette
no longer, I take assignations with only such patrons as I deem worthy. It galled my heart and filled me with self-hatred to know that now, even now, the mere sight of Melisande was enough to stir my darkest desires.

If I had not been what I am, if I had not known her as I do, I could never have thwarted Melisande’s designs on the throne of Terre d’Ange. I know this. But why now? It served no need, no purpose I could discern.

Well, and who can discern the purposes of the gods? With an effort, I bent my mind from contemplating my inner woes and thought about our present dilemma instead. Imriel de la Courcel, a Prince’s son raised a goat-herd, like something out of an old legend. The audacity of it dazzled me still. I was reluctant to confront the Duc L’Envers, though I could not help but hold him my chiefest suspect. He had saved my life, once, on the battlefield of Troyes-le-Mont-and he had saved Ysandre’s throne. Still, Melisande was right. If Barquiel L’Envers learned of the boy’s whereabouts, I do not think he would use the knowledge to enable Ysandre to fulfill her dream of ending the blood-feud that haunted House Courcel’s lineage, bringing the boy into thefold. Barquiel L’Envers thought it was a weak and foolish dream. If he found the child, he might not kill him out of hand-Elua grant it were so-but he might well make him disappear.

And in my heart of hearts, I was not entirely certain he was wrong in his beliefs. Ysandre’s sentiments were noble, but I was there when Melisande threatened the Queen with enmity should she take her son. I do not think Ysandre, who had long regarded Melisande Shahrizai her enemy, appreciated the difference.

I did. If Melisande threw away the stakes of her long game for vengeance, everyone would lose. Mayhap Ysandre believed her safely contained. I had thought so too, once, when Melisande was brought to justice at Troyes-le-Mont. She had escaped from there, and a good many people were dead because of it, some of them dear to me. I knew better.

So did Barquiel L’Envers.

Thus passed our return journey, pensive and unhappy. And I spent long hours too in contemplation of the Jebean scroll and the revelations contained therein, wondering if what Melisande speculated might be true. After so long, it almost frightened me to hope … and I am not ashamed to admit that the enormity of the tasks confronting me frightened me, too. I was not a child any more, rash and careless with youth’s immortality. I was thirty-two years old, and I had attained a stature to which I had never dreamed of aspiring in my younger days. Foremost courtesan of the City of Elua, yes; but not a respected peer of the realm, bearer of the Companion’s Star, the Queen’s confidante, Kushiel’s Chosen, to whom the soldiers of the Unforgiven had knelt. All those things, I was.

And it scared me to think of risking it all.

Jebe-Barkal. It was a place on a map, a parrot-merchant in the Campo Grande. I knew little more. Our critics claim Terre d’Ange is insular, and it is true. We ally ourselves with the Caerdicci city-states, with Aragonia, because they share our borders; now with Alba, because Ysandre de la Courcel wed the Cruarch and broke the Straits’ curse. We guard our boundaries against the Skaldi, because they have sought to take what is ours; we make war and alliance with Khebbel-im-Akkad, because it is too great a power to ignore. So much, and no more.

It is changing, a little. Ysandre looks outward more than any other D’Angeline monarch in memory, forging ties, fostering exchange. It is in a small part due to me, I think, that we have formal relations now with Illyria, with Kriti in Hellas. And Ysandre does not fear to send delegates to Ephesium, to Menekhet, to Carthage, even to the Umaiyyat.

But still-Jebe-Barkal! It was, I reflected glumly as Joscelin and I crossed the border into Terre d’Ange, very, very far away.

Our return was met with ebullience on the part of not only Ti-Philippe, but my household staff as well. Eugenie, my Mistress of Household, has been with me for over ten years now, and I have grown to value her eternal concern as much as her efficiency. I remember the grace and loyalty with which my lord Delaunay’s staff ran his affairs, and have done my best to achieve the same. If I have succeeded, much of it has to do with paying a good wage and treating everyone in my employ with fairness and respect, but much is also due to Eugenie’s excellent supervision. One thing neither of us will tolerate is careless gossip. The only time I have ever fired anyone in my service was for indiscretion. It pained me to do it, though it was necessary.

After we had bathed and changed our travel-worn attire, Joscelin and I met with Ti-Philippe in the garden courtyard to tell him what had transpired. His eyes grew round to hear it.

“Surely you’re jesting.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I am sworn to aid her.”

“Well.” He reached out and popped a candied almond into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “What will you do, my lady? And more importantly,” he swallowed and grinned, “what can
I
do?”

“
I
will ask questions,” I said. “Judiciously, of course. You …” I smiled. “You can find me a Jebean scholar, Philippe. I’ve a document I need translated.”

He pulled a face. “Poking about in academics’ dusty corners? Sounds dull.”

“Mayhap.” I shrugged. “It will likely take you to Marsilikos, though. I doubt anyone in the City Academy reads Jeb’ez.”

“Marsilikos.” It cheered him to think on it. Marsilikos is a port city, beloved of sailors, a meeting-ground of the larger world. If there was any scholar who studied Jebe-Barkal, it would be at the Academy there. “Can I take Hugues, my lady? He wants to see the sea again.”

“Why not? If it comes to it. And Philippe, I want you to call on Emile, in Night’s Doorstep.”

“The Tsingano?” Ti-Philippe looked perplexed, and Joscelin shot me a curious glance.

“He was Hyacinthe’s closest companion. The Tsingani should know. Besides, they go everywhere and they hear things. Ask him if he will call upon me.” I don’t know what made me think of it. A hunch-a duty. It had been one of Hyacinthe’s last requests, that I bequeath his mother’s house and his own enterprise, a livery stable, to Emile.

“As you wish.” Ti-Philippe reached out as Eugenie entered with a platter of tidbits of quail in puffed pastry. “Eugenie, my goddess! You read my mind, or at least my stomach.”

“Leave be, Messire Chevalier!” She batted his hand away sternly. “These are first for my lady.” The platter was lowered beneath my nose, and I knew I would have no peace if I didn’t select a couple of morsels. If Eugenie was deigning to serve us with her own hands, she’d probably made them herself, too. She regarded me with disapproval. “You’ll need to eat more than that if you’re about to go gallivanting about the map again, running yourself into a ragged sliver, my lady.”

I must admit, my lord Delaunay’s staff never spoke to him thusly. Then again, my lord Delaunay was not an
anguissette
. I retrieved the silver tongs and took two more pastries. “I’m not going anywhere yet, Eugenie.”

“No.” She sniffed. “But you will. You’ve got that look again.”

Joscelin laughed. “I didn’t know you could tell, Eugenie.”

“After ten years, and her like a daughter to me?” She cast an acerbic eye on him. “I don’t forget, Messire Cassiline. And you ought not to laugh, stuck to her side like a shadow.”

“Well.” Joscelin was fond of Eugenie. “I’ve my vow to think of.”

“Your vow!” She shook the serving-tongs at him. “I vow I’ll warm your backside if you don’t bring my lady home safe. And don’t think I won’t do it, Messire Cassiline. I’ve grown grandchildren as tall as you.”

It made Ti-Philippe laugh uproariously as he leaned forward to pick her platter clean, and even Joscelin smiled, but I heard the genuine worry behind Eugenie’s absurd threat. “I’ll be careful, Eugenie,” I said softly. “Whatever I do. I promise.”

“You said that last time and it nearly killed you.” My Mistress of the Household leveled a significant gaze at me, her figure broad and imposing in the dusk-lit garden. “Love means hearth and home too, my lady. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.” I watched her go, picking her way across the courtyard, vast figure swaying like a sea-born ship. It was a warm evening, and the scent of lavender and rosemary hung in the moist air. A new maidservant, one of Eugenie’s nieces, slipped into the garden with a lit taper, kindling the lamps that hung about in glass globes, casting a fairy glow. I had musicians play when I entertained here, harp and flute and tambour.

Jebe-Barkal. My heart ached at the thought of leaving this place, this gracious home. Eugenie was right; this, too, was love. And yet even as I thought it, I ached elsewhere, with the soul-deep need of an
anguissette
that no kindness, no compassion could assuage. I was bound by my nature as surely as any patron’s shackles. Melisande might as well have set her diamond lead about my neck, I thought, a bitter laugh catching in my throat.

“Phèdre.” It was Joscelin’s voice, quiet and familiar. “Go to the temple.”

“Elua’s sanctuary?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Kushiel’s.”

Eleven

FOR ALL that I am Kushiel’s Chosen, I go seldom to his temple. I, who feel the prick of his dart throughout all my days, do not require the aid of his servants to seek atonement. My lord Kushiel has always provided ample opportunity to his
anguissette
. I do not often need to lay my penance at his feet. For me, his altar is everywhere.

Only once before has Joscelin advised me thusly, after our escape from slavery in the wilds of Skaldia, and then, as now, I remembered what I so often forgot: that Joscelin was priest as well as warrior.

Now, as then, I listened. I went.

They asked no questions, Kushiel’s priests, but only nodded to see me. Even if my face had not been known throughout the City of Elua, they would have known me by the scarlet mote. Kushiel’s priests keep his lore sacred. Clad in stygian robes and wearing the full bronze masks of ceremony that hide even gender, they escorted me into the baths of purification and thence to the temple proper, the massive doors clanging shut behind us.