Kushiel's Avatar

I hate it that my heart should fall to my feet at the sight of her, but it does. It grieves me more than I can say that I have turned aside from my quest to free Hyacinthe, who has suffered so long. I am terrified of my dreams, I am terrified of the Skotophagoti , and I am terrified of the Akkadians, who are supposed to be our allies. And I am well and truly wroth with my lord Kushiel, whose justice seems to me to be monstrous. If I cannot trust in Elua’s compassion ...” I shuddered and did not finish.
    “Phèdre.” Joscelin put both arms around me and held me hard. “Hyacinthe has endured a dozen years, and he’ll endure a dozen more if he has to. He’s stronger than you credit him. He’s like you, he’s had to be. Your dreams are only dreams, no more, and the Akkadians, fearsome or no, are our allies. As for Melisande ...” He shrugged. “Who knows? Mayhap you are her conscience. Of a surety, her son should not suffer for her crimes. Not this. No one should. It is a matter of D’Angeline pride to redeem him.”
    “Pride.” I laughed, half in tears. “One of our sins, the Yeshuites would have it. Azza’s sin was pride, though we all suffer our share. Joscelin, you’ve said nothing of the Skotophagoti .”
    “Ah, the bone-priests.” He smiled; I felt his mouth move against my hair. “I am Cassiel’s servant, love, no matter what comes. If he does not follow Blessed Elua’s unfathomable plan as surely as you pray Kushiel does, we are both lost. But while I have you to protect, I am not afraid to try my steel against any enemy, Eaters-of-Darkness or no.”
    I turned in his arms, and whispered, “Joscelin Verreuil, I would die without you.”
    “Probably.” He smiled again. “Of melodrama, if naught else.”
    Against my will, it made me laugh; I struck at his chest with one hand, which he caught and kissed, and then he kissed me some more, until the Menekhetan sailors glanced sidelong and murmured and I had quite forgotten what our original conversation was about, or why I’d been so overwrought in the first place.
    Our journey passed uneventfully and we arrived in Tyre, setting foot for the first time on the soil of Khebbel-im-Akkad. It was a mighty city once, in the old empires of Akkad and Persis, but it was sacked by the Hellene conqueror Al-Iskandr, and never restored to its former glory. It is still a thriving seaport, though, and we were able to find all that we needed for our journey overland within its walls.
    Unfortunately, one of those items was a veil.
    Amaury Trente had spent a good deal of time at sea in conversation with Lord Mesilim’s men, one of whom spoke Hellene. The rules of conduct for women differ greatly in Khebbel-im-Akkad from elsewhere in the world; certainly from those in Terre d’Ange. I had known this, of course. I just hadn’t reckoned on the rules applying to me .
    “Highborn ladies do not show their faces in public,” Amaury said adamantly. “Foreign or no. If you don’t want to be taken for a commoner or a whore, you’ll travel veiled, Phèdre.”
    “My lord,” I pointed out to him, “my mother was an adept of the Night Court, and my father a merchant, and I am twice-dedicated to Naamah’s Service. I am a commoner and a whore, and ashamed of neither.”
    “You are also the Comtesse Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, counsel and near-cousin to the Queen of Terre d’Ange, and I daresay in Khebbel-im-Akkad, you’d prefer to be treated as such.” He was right. I ceded the argument, and accepted the veil. There was only one other woman among Amaury’s remaining delegates, Renée de Rives, a Baron’s daughter who was the consort of one of the minor lordlings, Royce Guidel. They were young and regarded the entire outing as a lark, a chance to spend long months together without the intervening demands of Guidel’s marriage. I am not entirely sure why Lord Amaury chose them, except that they were a charming pair, and Royce Guidel was reputed to be a good man with a sword.
    At any rate, Renée de Rives grumbled nearly as much as I over the veil, and we befriended one another over the affair, which was to the good, since we were thrown together for much of the ride to Nineveh, surrounded by our escort of men. On the Akkadians’ advice, Lord Amaury had spared no expense, and our company was richly caparisoned. The horses were very fine, tall and clean-limbed, with glossy coats. I grew quite fond of mine, which was a sweet-tempered dark bay with a