(no subject)
Joscelin remained awake with me, long after Imriel had lost the battle and fallen into sound slumber on an adjacent pallet, worn out by travel and the sea winds. I talked over my decisions with him, the wick on the oil lamp trimmed low. And then, at last, there was only one thing left to discuss.
"What happens to us?" Joscelin asked softly, lying beside me. "Phedre ... if ... when ... you succeed in freeing Hyacinthe, what happens to you and I?"
"I don't know," I whispered. A lock of his fair hair lay over his shoulder; I ran it between my fingers. It was easier than meeting his eyes. "Joscelin You know I love you like my own life. Nothing that ever happens could change that. We are a family, you and I ... and Imri. I would never break that bond."
"But you love him, too."
I did look at him, then; I had to. "Could you ask me not to?"
"No." He shuddered and put his arms around me. "It scares me, that's all."
I felt his strength surrounding me, the steady beat of his heart close to mine, the Name of God sounding in every pulse. "My Perfect Companion," I said, and smiled at him. "Joscelin. We spoke bold words about fear, do you remember? There is no one else like you. No one. We set ourselves in Elua's hand when we entered Drujan. We are there still, and always."
"I pray you're right." He kissed me then, and made no other reply.
There was no other to make.
After a time, Joscelin too slept, and I alone was left awake to watch over them. I listened to Imriel murmur in his sleep, too quiet for a full-blown nightmare. I gazed at Joscelin's arm outflung in a patch of moonlight. His hand lay open, the fingers slightly curled. How many times had that strong arm protected me? I could not even count any more. The moon unravelled across the night sky, and waves broke on the shore below the fortress.
I wondered what would happen on the morrow.
--Kushiel's Avatar, by Jacqueline Carey. Chapter 95.