Kushiel's Chosen

Joscelin laughed, a free and unfettered sound I hadn't heard since Montrève. With one easy motion, he scooped me into his arms. "Micah," he said over his shoulder, ducking to step through the tent flap, "take the first watch. Philippe, wake me when it's time."
    And with that, he closed the flap behind us.
    Naamah's gift is manifold, and I have known it in many forms; still, I think, none have I cherished so much as that night with Joscelin on an unnamed isle of La Serenissima. After so much had passed, we were nearly strangers to one another, and yet at once so achingly familiar. I had forgotten the sheer, breathtaking beauty of him, gleaming like sculpted marble in the lamplight. Without artistry, without aught but love and simple desire, I relearned his flesh inch by inch. And Joscelin ... ah, Elua! Whatever had broken in him, it loosed the passion he held in rigid check so much, too much, of the time; his hands and mouth moved on me until I pleaded for release and he took me with a tender fury, autumn roses trapped beneath my body, sharp, cunning thorns pricking my naked skin. It was a goad to my pleasure and he knew it and did not care, a secret smile curving my lips as he lowered his head to kiss me.
    Afterward, we lay entangled together without speaking for a long while.
    "I've missed you," I murmured at length against the hard curve of his shoulder. "Awfully. For a long time, Joscelin."
    "So have I." He ran his fingers through my hair where it lay across his chest. "Is that pirate of yours going to challenge me for this, do you think?"
    "No." I kissed his shoulder. "Not likely."
    "Good," he said drowsily. "I'd hate to kill him, since you seem rather fond of him."
    I thought of all I had not told him yet-the kríavbhog, the Kore and the thetalos, my bargain with Kazan and his brother's death-all of that, and more. And I laughed softly, because it did not matter; right now, none of it mattered. If there was time, if we lived, Elua willing, I would tell it all to him, yes, and hear his stories too, all that he had left unsaid, including whether or not he had indeed hacked off his hair with a dagger, which is rather what it looked like.
    And if there was not... we had had this night, and Naamah's gift.
    I have been her Servant a long time, I thought. This, I have earned.
    So thinking, I fell asleep, and for all the restless nights I had passed, for all the myriad worries that plagued my brain, with Joscelin's arms around me and his breathing steady beneath my ear, I slept dreamless as a babe until Ti-Philippe scratching discreetly at the tent awoke us.
    'Tis only my opinion, but I daresay I have seen my share and more of those chill, dank hours before dawn, when the resentful moon begins its descent and the stars grow distant and sullen. I scrambled into my clothing-a Kritian gown, an Illyrian cloak, no trace of my homeland to comfort me-while Joscelin, swift to don his attire, was already out and about in the encampment.
    By the time I emerged, our company was mustered, and an ill-assembled lot we were. The Yeshuites looked painfully young, fingering their weapons and doing their best to summon expressions of stern resolve.
    "My friends," I said to them. "We go forth this day into certain danger. Pray, if any one of you here is not fully resolved in your heart to do this thing, stand down now, for it is no quarrel of yours and there is no shame in quitting it. For the aid you have given us, I will ever be grateful." I waited in the crepuscular silence. No one moved. "So be it. Then let us be comrades-in-arms, few though we may be, and set ourselves against the forces of greed and ambition that seek to claim by stealth and treachery what is not rightfully theirs. Let us show the world that honor is not forgotten, and that the gods themselves-the gods of Illyria, of Terre d'Ange, of the Yeshuites, of La Serenissima itself-will lend their aid when men and women seek with utmost courage to do that which is right."
    And with that, I told them my plan. The girl Sarae's eyes widened and she ducked her head, fidgeting with the crossbow she held; whether or not she thought it blasphemous, I could not say. The Yeshuites murmured. Ti-Philippe swore admiringly. Kazan Atrabiades laughed so hard he had difficulty translating for his men. Some of the Illyrians grinned, when they heard it; some made superstitious gestures to avert evil.
    Joscelin looked at me for a long time without comment. "Have you lost your mind?" he said