Kushiel's Dart

Ysandre, but the young Cruarch of Alba as well.
    Percy de Somerville's reunion with Ghislain had brought tears to my eyes, father and son embracing, pounding one another's backs with L'Agnacite disregard for onlookers.
    The Chevalier Millard Verreuil, the stump of his missing left hand bound in a sling, was cooler with his son; but it was only his way, I think. He was a tall, lean man, with greying hair in an austere Siovalese braid and the same old-fashioned beauty as his middle son. I had learned, since the battle, that he had been the first in the courtyard to reach the inner gate, had lost shield and hand alike defending it.
    "I understand you are somewhat of a scholar," he said gravely when Joscelin had made the introductions.
    I opened my mouth, and closed it. It was not entirely untrue, but I had never been thus introduced. "I do but sample from the feast-table of my forefathers," I said in Caerdicci, quoting the Tiberian orator Nunnius Balbo. Joscelin's father smiled unexpectedly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
    "Naamah's Servants are seldom so learned in Siovale," he said, laying his sound hand on my shoulder. "A rebellion against the teachings of Shemhazai, mayhap."
    "Shemhazai had his passions, my lord," I replied, smiling back at him, "and Naamah her store of wisdom."
    The Chevalier Verreuil laughed, patting my shoulder. "I have heard what you did," he said, growing serious once more. "Terre d'Ange owes you a great debt for your service."
    I inclined my head, uncomfortable with praise. "If not for your son, I would be dead many times over, my lord."
    "I know." He shifted his sling and rested his gaze on Joscelin with quiet pride. "Whether or not I agree with the path you have chosen, I cannot say, but you have acquitted yourself upon it with honor."
    Joscelin bowed and said nothing. His brother Luc, half a head taller than both of them, grinned.
    "Can't disagree, seeing the cause!" he remarked, beaming at me. Luc had the same fair hair and blue eyes as his brother, but an open, merry cast to his features that must surely be their mother's legacy. "Elua! Will you come visit us, at least, Phedre? You ought to give me a fair chance before you decide on Joscelin!"
    I wasn't sure how Joscelin would take his brother's teasing; we'd scarce had a private moment to speak since I'd kissed him on the battlements. I didn't even know what it meant myself. But glancing sidelong at him, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the shadow of a smile. "Neither of us have decided anything, my lord," I replied to Luc, "but I would be honored to see Verreuil."
    He grinned again, clapping Joscelin on the shoulder. "You can come too, I suppose. Did you know you're an uncle five times over? Jehane's been wed six years, and Honore almost four."
    "I will, someday," Joscelin murmured.
    "You would be welcome," his father said firmly. "Any day. Your mother longs to see you." He looked gently upon me. "And you will always be welcome in our home, Phedre no Delaunay. I knew the Comte de Montreve, you know. I think, in the end, he would have been very proud of his son Anafiel, and what he has wrought in you."
    "Thank you, my lord." It meant more than I would have guessed. Tears stung my eyes, and I hoped that, somewhere in the true Terre d'Ange that lies beyond, Delaunay had won his father's pride.
    I stood back and let them make their final farewells alone, then. There was a small party of Siovalese departing all together that morning. Luc Verreuil turned in the saddle as they rode away, the sunlight bright on his wheat-blond hair. "They sing some interesting songs about you in the hospital ward, Phedre no Delaunay!" he shouted, laughing.
    "Blessed Elua." I could feel the flush rising. Wounded or no, Rousse's damned sailors, Phedre's Boys, would teach that damned song to anyone who would listen.
    "They adore you," Joscelin said dryly. "They've earned the right."
    I shuddered. "But in front of your father ?"
    "I know." He watched them ride away, joining the train of Siovalese. "He wanted to speak to the Prefect about rescinding his edict against me."
    My heart, unexpectedly, leapt into my throat. "What did you say?" I asked, striving to keep my voice calm. Joscelin glanced at me.
    "I said no." Another faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips, glinted in his blue eyes. "After all, I have my vow to think of."
    How long had it been since I had laughed, truly laughed? I couldn't remember. I laughed then, and felt it like a clean