Read Online Kushiel's Justice by Jacqueline Carey - Free Book Online

you hear that?” Joscelin eyed me.
    “Gilot,” I said. It was true, although I knew he’d gotten it from Ti-Philippe.
    “I thought about it,” Joscelin said. “It was a long time ago.”
    “Why?”
    He got up to prod the fire, squatting with effortless grace. His unbound hair curtained his face momentarily. I knew it hid the place on the upper curve of his right ear where a chunk of flesh was missing, taken out by a bandit’s arrow by the Great Falls above Saba. “Salvation,” he murmured. “What, indeed, does it mean? At the time, I thought I knew. I thought myself in need of it, and the Yeshuites offered it. And all it cost was faith.”
    “But you didn’t,” I said.
    Joscelin shook his head. “No,” he said. “In the end, the cost was too high. I was unwilling to lay love on the altar of faith. Instead, I found my faith in love.”
    We would have spoken further, but there was a commotion at the door. I thought it was one of our guests returning, but it proved to be Mavros calling on me.
    “Name of Elua!” He laughed. “I saw your guests leaving. What a dour lot!” He bowed graciously to Joscelin, which he didn’t have to do. “Messire Cassiline.”
    “Lord Shahrizai.” Joscelin inclined his head. He tolerated Mavros, but he had little fondness for any member of House Shahrizai.
    “My lady.” Mavros’ expression changed, and I knew Phèdre had returned.
    “Hello, Mavros.” She gave him the kiss of greeting with serene composure. A little shiver ran through him as he returned it; I could see the myriad braids of his hair quiver. I could have punched him for it, even though I knew what he was feeling.
    “Ah, well.” He cleared his throat. “You did promise to come with me, Imri. And I’ve got both the Trentes in tow, and a fair escort to keep us safe.”
    My face felt hot. “Where are you bound?”
    “Alyssum House.” There was a wicked challenge in Mavros’ eyes. “I thought we’d follow the alphabet. Do you have a better idea?”
    There were Thirteen Houses in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers, known more familiarly as the Night Court. Each of them catered to a different taste. The patrons of Alyssum House fed their fancies on illusions of modesty. It might not have seemed a titillating notion elsewhere, but D’Angelines were not known for their modesty, and that which is rare is always prized.
    I glanced involuntarily at Phèdre.
    “Go.” She sounded amused. “You’ll come to no harm at Alyssum. Go, with my blessing.”
    I wasted no time in obeying.
    The night was cold, but it was warmer in Mavros’ carriage. Julien and Colette Trente were there, huddled under fur blankets. As the carriage lurched into motion, Colette squealed and threw herself in my arms.
    “Imriel!” She kissed me effusively. “I’m sorry I couldn’t attend the fête.”
    “No matter.” Her soft warmth was dizzying. I hugged her, forgetting I’d ever been wroth with the Trentes. “ ’Tis good to see you.”
    “And you.” She ran her hands appreciatively over my shoulders.
    “Oh, it’s
Imriel
, now, is it?” Julien inquired. “What will Raul say?”
    Colette looked sidelong at him. They were cut of a piece, the children of Lord Amaury Trente, who was one of Queen Ysandre’s most trusted nobles: eager, friendly faces, topped by curling brown hair. “He knows who he’s wedding. He’s half-D’Angeline himself, you know.”
    “Now, now, my loves.” Mavros wagged a lazy finger. “Tonight’s for honoring Naamah’s pleasures.”
    “So it is.” I set Colette from me, gently but firmly. “You’re wedding Raul?”
    “I am.” She looked defiant. “But he’s in Aragonia now. And anyway, it needn’t mean—”
    I raised my hands. “I know,” I said. “Believe me, I do.”
    Mavros chuckled.
    Outside the confines of the carriage, the horses’ hooves clopped steadily along the frosted flagstones. I drew back the curtains and peered out. One of the outriders saluted me. We crossed the