Kushiel's Chosen

lord Delaunay was among them. Almost, I got out his name; then he turned, and I saw he held Melisande Shahrizai in his arms, smiling down at her. And Melisande looked past him, over his shoulder, across the crowded hall, to meet my eyes, and the shock of her beauty turned my knees to water. And she smiled at me.
    I knew. She knew. And I was too late.
    The voice that woke me, reciting the details of the dream, ragged with panic, was my own. I took a deep, gasping breath, half-choking on it, and knew myself to be awake in the chambers of Gentian House. Like an echo in my memory, I could hear Raphael Murain's soft murmur winding through the dream, drawing the account of it from my unwilling lips. I sat upright in the bed, willing the pounding of my heart to slow and waiting for my vision to clear.
    When it did, I saw Raphael kneeling at the bedside, his face quiet and composed. "Do you want me to tell it to you?" he asked gently.
    "No." I passed my hands blindly over my face and shuddered. "I remember."
    "It is often so, when the dream is caught in the making." Rising gracefully, he turned open the shuttered lamps, letting their soft glow brighten the room, and poured me a glass. "Watered wine. Drink it, it will do you good."
    I obeyed unthinking, gulping the cool liquid, which soothed my throat and nerves. Raphael sat back on his heels and regarded me.
    "It is an easy dream to interpret," he said in his soft voice. "You are putting off a hard choice, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and only ill can come of it. If you wish, we may explore this dream together, and learn what is this choice you fear."
    "That won't be necessary." I laughed shortly, and felt myself tremble a little. "I already know." It was not so much easier, after all, to face it waking. I did, and knew fear, smiling crookedly at Raphael Murain nó Gentian. "You see, I have to go to La Serenissima."

TWENTY-FIVE
    Though I did not think I would be able to sleep after that nightmare, in time, I did; and that, too, was due to the gift of Raphael, who bid me stay when I would have gone, using his calm presence and soft voice to weave a spell to catch slumber. I slept without dreaming, and in it regained a measure of the ease the night's pleasure had afforded. In the morning, I was glad I had stayed.
    Before I left, I knelt before him, placing two fingers against his lips. "Naamah's Servant, in her name, I bid you keep her secrets. Do you understand?"
    Raphael nodded against my fingers. There were violet smudges of weariness beneath his eyes; this process took a toll on him. "It is a sacrosanct law of Gentian House. You need not fear. I have taken an oath." His expression changed, lightening a shade as he smiled at me. "Anyway, I would never betray your dreams. It must be difficult," he added gently, "to have feelings for a patron that conflict so deeply."
    I did not need to ask who he meant. "Yes," I said, a tremor in my voice, more grateful than I could say. There was a tremendous relief in uttering the words, in the one place it would not draw suspicion upon me. "Yes. It is." And to that, Raphael Murain said nothing, but merely understood. "Thank you." I kissed him lightly, and went to leave a purse of coin, my patron's gift to him, on the nightstand. There is an item they use in the Night Court for the purpose-Naamah's Hands, we called it, a sculpture carved to resemble a stylized pair of cupping hands. Raphael's was of pale, translucent jade. He had prospered in Naamah's Service, I was thinking as I set down the purse, and well he should.
    "My lady!" His voice rang like an untuned lyre, and ] turned to see a stricken look on his face. "Please. I cannot accept a patron-gift from you!"
    "Why?" I asked curiously. "You have opened my dream to me like a book."
    Standing, Raphael Murain nó Gentian shifted and ran a hand through his shining hair. "You paid the fee of the House," he said awkwardly. "For the rest, it was gift enough to serve." Seeing me hesitate, he gave that sweet smile so reminiscent of Alcuin. "I will only give it in offering to Naamah. Better you should do it, and speak my name. I would have her hear it from your lips." "Then I will," I promised.
    In the courtyard of Gentian House, Fortun glanced at my face and asked me no questions, which was well. Freed of the oppressive weight of my nightmares, I felt my mind keen and sharp again. Upon returning home, I went immediately to my study and drafted a note to Ysandre, begging a meeting with her and