Kushiel's Chosen

me."
    "Almost," he murmured. "Almost." His hands flexed, fingers digging into my arms. "I am a soft fool for stopping at almost, and wooing with tenderness what is won by force!" His voice grated with harsh desire, and he pulled me hard against him, his mouth seeking mine.
    "My lord!" I jerked my head away, glaring at him. Kushiel's gift, Kushiel's curse; I could feel my body's willingness to submit. So could he. It had been a long time, and I was no Cassiline, made to endure celibacy. Severio had broken my drought before; why not now? But I remembered the courtesan's quarter and thought, there is no honor in this in La Serenissima. Naamah has turned her face away from this place, and Kushiel does not bid it, nor Elua compel. When I spoke again, my voice was firmer than I would have thought possible. "My lord, no."
    Severio Stregazza was one-quarter D'Angeline. It took a while, but it was enough. He dropped his hands and looked coldly at me. "As my lady wills. My men will see you home."
    And with that, he left me in the garden, walking swiftly back to the festivities in the courtyard, where any one of a score of women would gladly accept the proposal of the grandson of the Doge, little knowing what manner of violent pleasure awaited them in the marriage bed. I, who knew it all too well, was left alone and rueful, aching with a desire that had no place in the tight-bound strictures of Serenissiman nobility.
    If, if, if. If I had managed Severio better-and I should have-matters would never have come to a head between us that night. If they hadn't, I'd never have done what I did later. I returned to the courtyard, where there was much rejoicing among the daughters of the Hundred Worthy Families to see that Severio Stregazza had parted with his D'Angeline infatuation. It made me an open target for the Hundred Worthy sons, and I saw a gleam in the eyes of the Immortali, who knew what I was and had kept the secret for Severio's sake. I drank two glasses of wine rather too fast, and did not trust myself. Finding Remy, I caught his arm. "Home," I murmured. "And don't leave my side until we get there."
    To his credit, he didn't.
    Twilight was falling over La Serenissima when we reached our lodgings, tinting the city in violet and blue. My heart ached for the day's lost beauty and Severio's bitterness, for the pieces of my life that ever seemed to slip through my fingers. My soul shuddered at the dark day's work that lay ahead. I thanked my chevaliers and bid them good evening, retiring to my bedchamber, where I left the lamp burning and stood on the balcony, gazing into the night, until a light knock sounded at my door.
    It was Joscelin, a questioning look on his face. "Phèdre? Are you all right? Remy was worried about you."
    He must have been, I thought, to send Joscelin. "I'm fine. Come in." I closed the door behind him, shrugging and wrapping my arms about myself. "It's nothing. Nerves, mayhap. It was a long day."
    "Severio?" Joscelin raised his eyebrows.
    "It's done." I laughed wearily. "I know what you thought of him, but he wasn't so bad, truly. There's merit in him. And you know, Joscelin, sometimes it was rather pleasant to be courted for my own sake instead of for an assignation, to have someone want to spend his life with me because of what I am, and not in spite of it. No matter," I added, "what his father might have decreed in the end."
    Joscelin stood silent, having only heard the first part of my words. "That's not fair," he said softly. "It's what I am as much as what you are. The problem has ever lain between the two. Phèdre..." He took a step toward me, one hand touching my hair; I turned to him, lifting up my face.
    If, if, if. If Remy hadn't sent him ...
    Joscelin was human; not even Cassilines are made of stone. His hand slid through my hair and I felt the shudder that went through him as his fingers brushed the nape of my neck. "Phèdre, no," he murmured against my lips as I kissed him, but it was he who had lowered his head to mine. Cassiel's Servant, I should have let him go; but I was Naamah's, and wound my arms about his neck instead, kissing him. I think he would have pushed me away, if his hands hadn't betrayed him, coming hard around my waist. "Don't," he whispered into my hair.
    I did.
    It was ungentle, for the first time-the only time-between us. Wracked between despair and desire, Joscelin was rougher than was his wont. And I could not hide the pleasure it brought me, stifling my cries against