Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [133]
"How would you pass this night, were you not in Delaunay's service?" I ventured to ask him.
"Meditating," he said. "In the temple of Elua."
"Not Cassiel?"
"Cassiel does not have temples," Joscelin replied shortly, and after that, I made no further effort to engage him in conversation.
We arrived at Melisande's home in short order. One thing I will say about her; she never failed to surprise. We were greeted not only by Melisande herself, but also by the Captain of her modest Guard and four of his best men, and the Guard bowed low as we were admitted-not to me, but to Joscelin.
"Well met, Brother Cassiline," the Shahrizai Captain said as he straightened, and there was nothing but sincerity in his handsome face and resonant voice. "I am Michel Entrevaux, Captain of the Shahrizai Guard, and I am bid make you welcome this Longest Night. Will you honor us with your company?"
It caught Joscelin unprepared; I daresay he was ready for anything but respect in Melisande Shahrizai's home. He had quarreled with Delaunay thrice this week about accompanying me on this assignation, since Delaunay was minded that Joscelin remain here, and not travel to the Duc de Morhban's Masque.
We who are well-trained react out of reflex; in Joscelin's case, he responded with his cross-vambraced bow. "The honor would be mine," he replied formally.
Melisande Shahrizai, at once resplendent and demure in a long coat of black-and-gold brocade, her hair braided in a crown, smiled warmly. "There is a niche in the garden, Messire Cassiline, if you wish to maintain Elua's vigil. Phedre, well met." She stooped to kiss me in greeting, and the scent of her perfume surrounded me, but her kiss was no more than perfunctory, and left me able to stand.
It made me more nervous than the other kind.
"Young men," Melisande murmured when they had left, smiling faintly. "Such a sense of honor. Is he a little bit in love with you, do you think?"
"Joscelin quite despises me," I said. "My lady."
"Oh, love and hate are two sides of the same blade," she said cheerily enough, motioning for a servant to take my cloak, "and an edge finer honed than yon Cassiline's daggers divides them." Her servants led the way to her receiving room, gliding silently ahead to open doors; she took my arm as we went. "You despise your patrons a little, and love them too, yes?"
"Yes, my lady." I sat down in the chair held for me and accepted a glass of joie, eyeing her warily. "A little."
"And how many of them do you fear?"
I held my glass without sipping, as she did, and answered honestly. "One, at least, not at all. Most of them, sometimes. You, my lady, always."
The blue of her eyes was like the sky at twilight when the first stars appear. "Good." Her smile held promises I shuddered to think on. "Be at ease in it, Phedre. This is the Longest Night, and I am in no hurry. You're not like the others, who are trained to it from birth, like hounds cringing under the whip for a kind touch from their master's hand. No, you embrace the lash, but even so, there is aught in you that rebels at it. Let others plumb the depths of the former; 'tis the latter that interests me."
At that, I did shudder. "I am at my lady's command."
"Command." Melisande held her glass to the light, inspecting the sparkling cordial. "Command is for captains and generals. I have no interest in command. If you would obey, you will discern what pleases me, and do it unasked." She lifted her glass to me, smiling. "Joy."
"Joy." I echoed it unthinkingly, and drank the joie. It burned, sweet and fiery, blazing a trail down my throat, evoking memories of the Great Hall at Cereus House, a blazing hearth and the smell of evergreen boughs.
"Ah, you do please me, Phedre; you please me a great deal." Rising,