The last time I'd left Alba, I'd wept. I'd felt numb at the sight of home. Now it was all different. There was still sorrow. There would always be sorrow. I bore scars that would never let me forget what had happened at Clunderry. But for once in my life-for the first time I could remember since I was a child-despite the difficulties that lay ahead of us, there was a calm, abiding sense of peace.

Pointe des Soeurs beckoned in the distance. The rising sun sparkled on the wavelets. Gulls circled the topmast, squalling. The world was a good place.

"What are you thinking?" I murmured in Sidonie's ear.

"Too many things I'd rather not yet." She shifted. "Ask me somewhat silly and banal."

"All right." I tightened my arms around her. "Was Maslin a good lover?"

Her cheek curved in a faint smile. "Somewhat else."

"Aha!" I grinned. "All right, then. Do you think Amarante will return when she completes her year's service to Naamah and takes her vows?"

"I hope so." Sidonie leaned back against me. "I promised I'd see a new temple dedicated to Naamah if she did." I peered around at her, and she glanced up with amusement. "I know its not the most politically astute gesture, but what's the point of being the Dauphine if you can't do that sort of thing? In a year's time, I hope matters will be more settled. And at least as a priestess serving in a temple, she wouldn't have to deal with D'Angeline lordlings in a snit claiming she's naught but a Court attendant enjoying royal favoritism."

I winced, recognizing my own words. "She told you that?"

Sidonie shook her head. "Mavros did, trying to stir trouble."

"Did it work?" I asked.

"What do you think?" she said equably. "I knew why you were in a foul mood those days. I was, too. I think he was just bored and anxious on your behalf. It makes him contrary." She was silent a moment. "I'm glad you didn't inherit that particular streak of Shahrizai perversity."

I smiled wryly. "An endless penchant for games?"

She nodded. "I trust you. I couldn't if you weren't who you are."

A few strands of golden hair blew across my face. I freed one hand to tuck them under a jeweled hair clip. "Betimes I wonder," I mused. "How much of it is me and how much of it is that which shaped me? Is it House Courcel's bloodline with its stubborn-albeit occasionally misguided-sense of honor? Abhorrence of my mother's deeds? What I witnessed in Daranga? Phedre and Joscelin's influence?"

Sidonie turned to look into my face. "Does it matter? You are who you are. I love you."

"Then it doesn't matter." I kissed her. "And I love you."

"Of course..." Her black eyes sparkled when I lifted my head. "I do expect a certain amount of perversity."

"Oh, yes." I traced her lower lip with my thumb. "The part where I do wonderful, horrible things to your helpless body." A steady pulse of desire beat in my veins, at once tender, predatory, and languorous, somehow all the more intense for knowing I had the patience to wait for its fulfillment. "Someday, love, we'll have to figure out what tangled Kusheline bloodline runs in House L'Envers' heritage to manifest in this way."

Sidonie laughed; that unexpected, buoyant laugh that had turned my world upside down three years ago. "Do you care?"

I kissed her again. "Not really, no."

It was true. However unlikely it was, we fit. Whatever the reason, I was glad of it. Time changes things; but so does love. Love, above all else. I didn't fear the darkness in me, not anymore. Love illuminated it, made the darkness dazzling. Tenderness and violent pleasure could be one and the same. The bright mirror and the dark, each reflecting the other, creating an infinity between them.

I understood it now.

The shore of Terre d'Ange drew nearer. Sidonie turned once more to watch, content to remain in the circle of my arms. She was mindful of the statement it would make, and unafraid to make it. The lines had been drawn in the Battle of Imriel. I could make out figures along the harbor; the banner of House Trevalion. I wondered if Bertran would be there.

A world of intrigue awaited.

I thought about the forces arrayed against us; Ysandre's adamant opposition. After speaking with Drustan, I understood it in a way I hadn't before. If there was some way I could rip my heart from my chest and show it to her, convince her, I would do it. I doubted it would be easy or pleasant. The spectre of my mother lay between us, lit by the lamp of the Unseen Guild. As a boy, I had wanted nothing more than to bring her to justice. Now the thought was a burden I didn't wish to take up.

Still, there would be others against us, too. For a surety, Barquiel L'Envers; and many, many others. My mother had left a long trail of hatred in her wake. One way or another, I would have to reckon with it.

But there would be allies, too.

Somewhere behind us, Captain Corcan was shouting orders; Alban sailors were scrambling to obey. I could hear Ti-Philippe making himself useful, and Hugues getting in the way. Phedre and Joscelin came to join us in the prow, watching the shore approach. Joscelin ruffled my hair lightly, as he hadn't done since I was much younger, the corners of his summer-blue eyes crinkling as he gave his half-smile. He leaned on the railing, one foot propped, the hilt of his longsword protruding over his shoulder.

Phedre laid a hand on his arm. "Home," she said softly.

"Home," Joscelin agreed.

I wanted to gather them all up, hold them all in my arms and in my heart, never let them go. I never wanted to lose anyone I loved, ever again. Phedre glanced at me, the scarlet mote of Kushiel's Dart floating in her left iris, the Name of God in her thoughts, a world of love and pride and concern in her smile. I smiled back at her, tightening my arms around Sidonie. Somewhere in the distant future, Alais' warning hung over us.

A bad feeling, nothing more.

One day it might be.

"Imriel." Sidonie's voice was calm and breathless. "I can't breathe."

I loosened my grip. "Sorry."

A lilt of humor leavened her tone. "Well, I don't mind, sometimes."

The flagship's crimson sails descended with a soft rush. Out oars, and the ship glided into the harbor of Pointe des Soeurs. Lines were tossed ashore, the ship secured. Somewhere below deck, there was a familiar stomping that sounded like the Bastard expressing his displeasure at the sea passage.

There was an entourage awaiting us, led by Bertran de Trevalion. A certain look of trepidation crossed his face at the sight of Sidonie and me, but he managed to swallow it, and gave the sweeping bow accorded the Dauphine of Terre d'Ange. Enemy or ally? Mayhap neither. His mother had tried to have me killed; his father had wished me good hunting. Who could say? There might be many in Terre d'Ange who would take no side, waiting to see how the drama played out.

To be sure, I was curious myself.

The captain lowered the ramp. Claude de Monluc gave a crisp order, and Sidonie's personal guard formed a double line, flanking the ramp. I let go of Sidonie and gave her a courtly bow, extending my arm.

"Are you ready, my lady?" I asked.

She took my arm. "I am."

Terre d'Ange and the future awaited us.

Together we went forth to meet them.

[End]