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their mothers for the choice. He is a hero of the realm, my Philippe, awarded the Medal of Valor by Ysandre’s own hands.
    And I saw the self-same hero worship in young Hugues’ grey-blue eyes, cast onto Ti-Philippe and reflected larger on Joscelin and myself. “Well met, Hugues of Montrève.” I greeted him in formal tones, playing the role in which fate had cast me. “You understand that this is no May lark, but an undertaking of the utmost solemnity?”
    “Oh, yes!” He gulped, stammering once more, color rising beneath his fair skin. “Yes, my lady, yes! I understand in the fullest!”
    “Good.” I pinned my gaze sternly on him. “Be ready to ride at dawn.”
    Hugues muttered some wit-stricken acquiescence; I don’t know what. As I turned away, I heard him say in a stage whisper to Ti-Philippe, “I thought she would be taller !”
    This, I ignored, though Joscelin’s cheeks twitched with suppressed mirth. “What?” I asked irritably, rounding on him when we were in private. “Does my stature amuse you?”
    “No.” Joscelin disarmed me with a smile, sliding his hands beneath the mass of my sable locks. “He is bedazzled by your reputation and you would have to be seven feet tall, to match your deeds, Phèdre nó Delaunay. I’d need to stand on a footstool, to kiss you.” He did kiss me, then, bending his head. I caught my arms about his neck. “A veritable Grainne mac Connor,” he murmured against my lips.
    “Don’t tease,” I begged, tugging at his neck. “I’m no warrior, Joscelin.”
    “Naamah’s warrior.” He kissed me again, loosening the stays of my gown. “Or Kushiel’s. As well one of us knows how to use a blade.”
    That he did full well, Joscelin, my Perfect Companion. Like Ysandre, I owe my life to his skill with daggers and sword; many times over. All of Terre d’Ange knows of his match against the renegade Cassiline and would-be assassin David de Rocaille. I have never heard of another swordfight that brought an entire riot to a halt. If he is equally proficient with that other blade with which nature endows mankind, fewer folk know it. They would not expect it of a Cassiline Brother, once sworn to celibacy.
    I hadn’t, either. But I knew better now.
    Joscelin’s hands were gentle on my skin; it is seldom in his heart to be aught but gentle with me, though I am an anguissette , Kushiel’s Chosen, and find pleasure in pain. But we have learned together, he and I, and he knew well enough how to make a torment of gentleness. The Cassiline discipline is a stern one. I felt it in the calluses of his palms, of his fingertips, as he disrobed me. With infinite skill he roused me, until I ached with yearning and begged him in earnest to make an end of it. When he entered me at last, I sighed with gratitude, wrapping my legs about his waist. Looking at his face was like gazing upon the sun; the love that suffused it was almost too much to bear.
    “Phèdre,” he whispered.
    “I know.” I buried my face against his shoulder and held him for all I was worth, memorizing the feel of him against me, within me, surging with desire steadfast as a beacon. He was the compass by which I had fixed my heart’s longing, and filled with him, I was replete. I held him hard, my voice coming in gasps. There were tears in my eyes, though I couldn’t have said why. “Ah, Joscelin! Don’t stop. As you love me, don’t stop.”
    I felt him smile, and move within me. “I won’t,” he promised.
    And he didn’t, not for a long, long time.
    Thus did we make love that night, the last night of our long peace. I daresay Joscelin could scent change on the wind as well as I; we had been together too long not to think alike, and ours was a bond forged under the direst of circumstances. Afterward I fell straight into sated sleep and slept dreamlessly. Any tears I had wept, the night breeze had dried upon my cheeks, and I awoke to a clear spring morning.
    No matter how dark the quest, there is a freedom in the commencing. Always, my heart has risen at the beginning of a journey, and this one was no exception. My competent staff had seen to all of our needs, and Eugenie, my Mistress of the Household, fussed incessantly over the provisioning of our trip. We would lack for naught.
    My own fortunes had prospered in ten years of peace. My father, whom I remember vaguely, was a spendthrift with no head for money. Had he been more prudent, I would not have been indentured into servitude in Cereus