Kushiel's Chosen

me when Delaunay was slain, and Melisande betrayed us both-and he had been there that fateful night at Troyes-le-Mont, when Melisande Shahrizai had escaped the Queen's justice.
    "You are sure?" That was all he said, when I had finished.
    "Yes." I whispered the word, my hands clenching on the rich sangoire folds of my cloak, which I held bundled in my arms. "Joscelin ..."
    "I need to think." He turned away, his face shuttered like a stranger's. In anguish, I watched him go, knowing there was nothing more I could say. Joscelin had known, from the beginning, what I was. But he had never reckoned on loving me, nor I him.
    There was a small altar to Elua in the garden, which Richeline Friote, my seneschal's wife, tended with great care. Flowers and herbs grew in abundance behind the manor house, where a statue of Eíua, no more than a meter tall, smiled benignly upon our bounty, petals strewn at his marble feet. I knew the garden well, for I had spent many hours seated upon a bench therein, considering my decision. It was there, too, that Joscelin chose to think, kneeling before Elua in the Cassiline style, head bowed and arms crossed.
    He stayed there a long time.
    By early evening, a light rain had begun to fall and still Joscelin knelt, a silent figure in the grey twilight. The autumn flowers grew heavy with water and hung their bright heads, basil and rosemary released pungent fragrance on the moist air, and still he knelt. His wheat-gold braid hung motionless down his back, runnels of rain coursing its length. Light dwindled, and still he knelt.
    "My lady Phèdre." Richeline's concerned voice gave me a start; I hadn't heard her approach, which, for me, was notable. "How long will he stay there, do you think?"
    I turned away from the window that looked out at the garden loggia. "I don't know. You'd best serve dinner without him. It could be a good while." Joscelin had once held a vigil, snow-bound, throughout an entire Skaldic night on some obscure point of Cassiline honor. This cut deeper. I glanced up at Richeline, her open, earnest face. "I told him I am planning to return to the City of Elua. To the Service of Naamah."
    Richeline took a deep breath, but her expression didn't change. "I wondered if you would." Her voice took on a compassionate tone. "He's not the sort to bear it easily, my lady."
    "I know." I sounded steadier than I felt. "I don't chose it lightly, Richeline."
    "No." She shook her head. "You wouldn't."
    Her support was more heartening than I reckoned. I looked back out the window at the dim, kneeling figure of Joscelin, tears stinging my eyes. "Purnell will stay on as seneschal, of course, and you with him. Montrève needs your hand, and the folk have come to trust you. I'd not have it otherwise."
    "Yes, my lady." Her kind gaze was almost too much to bear, for I did not like myself overmuch at this moment. Richeline placed her fist to her heart in the ancient gesture of fealty. "We will hold Montrève for you, Purnell and I. You may be sure of it."
    "Thank you." I swallowed hard, repressing my sorrow. "Will you summon the boys to dinner, Richeline? They should be told, and I have need of their aid. If I am to do this thing before winter, we must begin at once."
    "Of course."
    "The boys" were my three chevaliers; Phèdre's Boys, they called themselves, Remy, Fortun and Ti-Philippe. Fighting sailors under the command of Royal Admiral Quintilius Rousse, they had attached themselves to my service after our quest to Alba and the battle of Troyes-le-Mont. In truth, I think it amused the Queen to grant them to me.
    I told them over dinner, served in the manor hall with white linens on the table, and an abundance of candles. At first there was silence, then Remy let out an irrepressible whoop of joy, his green eyes sparkling.
    "To the City, my lady? You promise it?"
    "I promise," I told him. Ti-Phílippe, small and blond, grinned, while solid, dark Fortun looked thoughtfully at me. "It will need two of you to ride ahead and make arrangements. I've need of a modest house, near enough to the Palace. I'll give you letters of intent to take to my factor in the City."
    Remy and Ti-Philippe began to squabble over the adventure. Fortun continued to look at me with his dark gaze. "Do you go a-hunting, my lady?" he asked softly.
    I toyed with a baked pear, covered in crumbling cheese, to hide my lack of appetite. "What do you know of it, Fortun?"
    His gaze never wavered. "I was at Troyes-le-Mont. I know someone