Kushiel's Chosen

unexpectedly, of a khai pendant hanging on his doublet, a small silver disc with the Khet-Yod symbol graven in black. "And this?" I added, lifting it from his chest.
    "A gift," Joscelin said firmly, plucking it from my hand. "It is not your concern."
    Pain, unexpected, lanced through my heart; his face was closed and shuttered to me. "Well, then," I gasped, catching my breath at it. "Will you tell me why they spoke of blades?"
    For a moment, he only frowned at me, then answered reluctantly. "There is a prophecy that the Kingdom of Yeshua will be established to the north; further even than the Skaldi territories, and eastward. It is said that Yeshuites in other nations have left already to found a new homeland. Some of the younger ones wish to follow. They believe that they will need carve it out with steel."
    "Very well." Regaining such composure as I could, I strove to keep my voice from trembling. "I did not know that. Thank you."
    He nodded, expressionless, and made to close the door.
    "Joscelin," I said, halting him once more, unable to help the spite that crept into my tone. "My lord Delaunay contracted you because his man Guy was slain by a creature of the Stregazza. Will you allow me to go to this prince of the Stregazza attended by a, a half-trained sailor," I cited his words maliciously, "or do you propose to attend me yourself, O Perfect Companion?"
    His face might as well have been a mask as he bowed, the khai medallion swinging forward to clink against his crossed vambraces. "In Cassiel's name," he said coldly, "I protect and serve."
    With that, he closed the carriage door firmly, leaving me alone to grit my teeth against the threat of tears. Against all odds, I heard Melisande's voice in my memory, melodic and amused. Oh you protect well enough, but I'd ask better service, were you sworn to attend me, Cassiline. Elua, I thought, stifling a despairing laugh, I wish she were here! No one else could appreciate the perverse anguish of my situation. I wondered if she had known, when she sent the cloak, the havoc it would wreak between Joscelin and me. Most like she had, when I considered it; Melisande had been the first to perceive his feelings, long before I thought it possible. She had laughed out loud, the first time she'd seen him attendant upon me; it was the only time one of Delaunay's ploys truly caught her by surprise. Even at the end, when I stepped forward to reveal myself alive and give the testimony that condemned her, she had betrayed less.
    Well, done was done, and I could not go back. In many ways, it was Melisande who united Joscelin and me, selling us together into slavery to the Skaldi. Now her game thrust us apart, the cloak a gambit I could not ignore. And the winding trail by which it had reached me led inevitably back to La Serenissima, and the coiled machinations of the Stregazza. I had a chance, now, to tease out some thread from that tangled coil in the person of the young Prince Severio. If I stood any chance of regaining Joscelin, it was on the far side of that mystery.
    I could only hope he would still be here when I found my way clear.
    I had come to such resolution as I could, and set the matter behind me. Cassiline guilt and Yeshuite prophecies would wait; I had a patron to attend. But the memory of Melisande's amusement stayed with me as I bathed and made ready, and whether I willed it or no, a slow eagerness heated my flesh as I considered this evening's entertainment. Elua, but it had been a long time! If Severio Stregazza lacked the skill to play me as I deserved, still, his blunt anger would suit my mood.
    "Are you ready?" Joscelin asked curtly when I emerged at length, clad in a gown of deep blue velvet that made my skin glow like cream, my dark hair bound low at the nape of my neck with a fillet of gold. Ti-Philippe, who had offered to drive the carriage, stood nervously by. None of my chevaliers liked it when Joscelin and I quarreled; but I had gone well beyond that, in my mind.
    "I am," I said softly, settling my sangoire cloak upon my shoulders.
    "Let's go, then."
    So much the same, and so different, walking with Joscelin through the Palace, en route to an assignation. I did not think I would ever become accustomed to the inclined heads, the murmured greeting, "Comtesse." The whispers, though, after I passed; those were the same. And Joscelin, austere and disapproving-that was the same. It was only the reason that was different. That, and the fact that instead of the