Kushiel's Dart

either way, Joscelin was at my side in two strides. Without ceremony, he scooped me into his arms and headed for the door.
    "Joscelin." Irritation cleared my head. "Joscelin, put me down. I can walk."
    He shook his head, stubborn as any of his Brethren. "Not while I attend you!" He nodded to d'Essoms' liveried servant. "Open the door."
    I was glad, as we emerged into the courtyard, that we were at d'Essoms' townhouse and not his quarters in the Palace; there was no one to see save a startled stableboy as Joscelin Verreuil, in his Cassiline drab, carried me to Delaunay's coach, my sangoire cloak trailing over his ashen-and-steel arms. I tried to ignore the strength of those arms, and the firmness of the chest against which they held me. "Idiot!" I hissed as he set me carefully within the coach. "This is what I do't"
    Joscelin gave the homeward command to the coachman and got in opposite me, folding his arms and glaring. "If this is your calling, would that I knew what sin I'd committed, that I should be ordered to witness it and stand idly by!"
    "I did not ask to have you here." I winced as the coach lurched into motion, throwing me back against the seats.
    "And you call me an idiot," Joscelin muttered.

THIRTY-TWO
    Delaunay offered little comment on my condition afterward save to say in his very driest tone that he was glad to see I was in one piece, and to bid me use the Yeshuite doctor's salve unstintingly, which I did. As I have said before, I have good-healing flesh, and the marks of Childric d'Essoms' wrath soon faded from my skin.
    During the time of my convalescence from this assignation-for whether I ailed or no, it would not do to go to one patron with the tracks of another still on me-Delaunay held a small dinner-gathering for a number of his friends. Thelesis de Mornay was among them, and when she returned some days later, I assumed it was to visit Delaunay, but I was wrong.
    Instead it seemed she had come to invite me to a performance by a troupe of players, staging a play written by a friend of hers.
    No one except Hyacinthe had ever made me an invitation for the pleasure of my company, and I was thrilled by it. "May I go, my lord?" I asked Delaunay, not caring that he heard the note of pleading in my voice. He hesitated, frowning.
    "She will be safe with me, Anafiel." Thelesis gave the gentle smile that warmed her dark, luminous eyes. "I am the King's Poet, and under Ganelon's own protection. No one would be fool enough to trifle with that."
    A faint twinge, as of an old wound, crossed Delaunay's face. "You're right," he conceded. "Very well, then. Only you," he added, pointing at me, "will behave yourself."
    "Yes, my lord!" Forgetting I was still upset with him, I kissed his cheek and ran to get my cloak.
    I had seen players often enough in Night's Doorstep, and heard them declaim bits of this and that from the season's newest plays, but I had never, in truth, seen an actual performance. It was enthralling. The play was performed in the old Hellene style, with the players in gorgeous masks, and the verses were resonant with poetry. All in all, I enjoyed it most thoroughly. When it was over, I was fair glowing with the excitement of it all, and must have thanked Thelesis a dozen times at least.
    "I thought you would like it," she said, smiling. "Japheth's father was an adept of Eglantine House, ere he wed;'tis the first play written outside the Night Court to tell Naamah's story thusly. Would you like to meet him?"
    I went with her to the players' quarters, behind the stage. In contrast to the well-orchestrated performance, it was chaos in their dressing rooms. The masks were treated with care-players are superstitious about such things-but garments and props were thrown hither and thither, and the sounds of players squabbling mingled with a triumphant rehashing of the night's performance.
    I knew the playwright straightaway, for he was the only one in sober garb. Spotting Thelesis, he came toward her with arms outstretched and eyes aglow. "My dear!" he exclaimed, giving her the kiss of greeting. "What did you think?"
    "It was wonderful." She smiled at him. "Japheth no Eglantine-Vardennes, this is Phedre no Delaunay, who very much enjoyed your play."
    "It is my pleasure." Japheth kissed my hand like a courtier. He was young and handsome, with curly chestnut hair and brown eyes. "Will you join us for a drink at the Mask and Lute?" he asked, shifting his attention eagerly back to Thelesis. "We were going