In Kushiel’s Chosen, the sequel to Kushiel’s Dart, Jacqueline Carey once again drops us into the intriguing, fantastic world of Phedre no Delauney de Montreve, courtesan, anguisette, spy and inadvertent heroine. Since the events of the first book, in which we followed the progress and life of Phedre, who indeed seems cursed to live in interesting times, she has truly come into her own. A free woman now, having bought her way clear of the Thirteen Houses of the Night-Blooming Flowers, and having properly assumed the title of Comtesse de Montreve, left to her by her former master and mentor, Phedre finally has the time and money to pursue a matter close to her heart. She will try to find and bring to justice that most exquisite of manipulators, that mistress among traitors, Melisande Shahrizai, whose last games brought the kingdom of Terre d’Ange to war and sold Phedre into slavery in the harsh northern land of Skaldia.

Phedre is no normal person. Not only does she possess the divine-descended blood shared by all d’Angelines, but she furthermore swears fealty to Naamah, deity of love, passion, and desire in all its many forms. And the thing which makes her rare above that is the scarlet fleck in her left eye, which brands her to all who would know as the Chosen of the fallen angel Kushiel. Hers is a special gift: to find pleasure in her own pain, to find strength in her own submission, to heal quickly and cleanly of any wounds suffered in fulfilling Kushiel’s duty. She is the rarest creature of all in a society dedicated to intrigues and passion: an anguisette, and more importantly, one free to choose what patrons she will serve.

Phedre does not pursue her life alone. The young queen of Terre d’Ange, Ysandre, is a close friend, as is the queen’s foreign husband, Drustan, the Cruarch of Alba. A trio of ex-sailors turned chevaliers attend her as bodyguards, friends, and intelligence agents. And Joscelin Verreuil, cast out from the order of monastic warriors known as the Cassilines, protects her out of duty and love. But all of these friends and allies can’t protect Phedre from her worst enemy: her own curiosity.

To pursue the escaped traitor Melisande Shahrizai, Phedre embarks upon a dangerous game in her own homeland, casting forth her nets for information and clues on all levels. She moves amongst the nobility, taking some as her patrons in the hopes of catching a word here, or a trust there. She sends her “boys” out to gamble and drink and seek out the missing guardsmen who were on duty the day Melisande escaped from the clutches of justice. And Joscelin, forever chafing at the bonds of love and duty that force him to defy one oath to fulfill another, strays ever-further afield, coming to find a sort of fellowship and understanding among the nomadic Yeshuites.

One thing is for certain. Wherever Melisande has gone, she remains in Terre d’Ange no longer. And the longer she remains free, the longer she has to play her games and plot against the throne once more. Who can Phedre trust? Who does she dare trust? This question haunts her, until finally she understands what she must do. She must leave Terre d’Ange to fulfill her destiny. And therein lies the tale.

Her journeys will take her far. To the canals and intrigues of La Serenissima, where people will seek her hand in marriage and she may lose Joscelin forever, where she will discover something she never expected, and pay a horrible price. To the dreadful prison of La Dolorosa, the Black Isle, where she will risk losing her sanity and freedom forever. To the isle of Dobrek, home to outcasts and pirates. To the ancient mysteries of Kriti, where her deepest, darkest truths will haunt her. Finally, back to La Serenissima to challenge man and god alike, and home to the city of Elua to try and prevent the collapse of all she holds dear.

Everything rests upon her efforts: the survival of her queen, the stability of her land, the freedom of a people. Phedre will be tested again and again, pushed to the very brink, using mind and body alike to stop a conspiracy that threatens more than one country. She’ll use whatever she must, -whoever- she must, in the only ways she knows how. In the end, though, what will it cost her?

Kushiel’s Chosen is an elegant, sweeping book that I find nigh-impossible to easily describe in conversation. As I put it, it’s “an epic alternate historical fantasy with minimal magic and high intrigue.” Truly, it’s an ambitious, artistic, sensual tale that takes the best of everything and puts it together. There’s the land of Terre d’Ange, an idealized France descended from angels and dedicated to passion and beauty. There’s La Serenissima, with the canals of a magical Venice, and all the deadly political intrigues of the Borgias. There’s the ancient, mythical beauty and mysteries of Hellas, a Greece where the gods never completely went away. There’s the swashbuckling danger and lure of pirates in the classic Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn manner. There’s the political drama of a Dumas novel, right down to an inescapable hellish prison straight from the Count of Monte Cristo. And in the middle of this all is Phedre, who’s easily one of the strongest, most complex, most intriguing female characters I’ve seen in a long time.

This is a book about epic conspiracies, passions that move nations, beauty that drives men mad, and a dark erotic undertone that tempts the reader into accepting the socially questionable. For in our world, things like masochism and sadism, bondage and dominance, are distinctly alternative sexuality and considered distasteful or awkward. In this world, Phedre is an anguisette, and she has embraced her calling as an art form. She is exotic, unique, truly special. She accepts what she is, and fulfills her nature with pride and elegance. Her encounters are passionate, lusty, and disturbing, but presented in a positive light for all that.

Kushiel’s Chosen is a book where the gods themselves influence actions, where their worship is never in doubt, and where magic exists, but 99% of the time, it’s so subtle and well-woven into the story, it’s not intrusive at all. When the magic does come out in full force, it’s in grand gestures, showstopping scenes that reinforce the danger and mystery of it all.

In short, this is a truly excellent book. It’s an idealized, magical cracked-mirror view of Renaissance-era Europe, with a few centuries of drift here and there to accommodate the blue-painted barbarians of Alba, or the fierce warriors of Skaldia, managing to make the best of each era blend in seamlessly with the others. Each country is distinctly different, the threshold between one and the next obvious but not jarring. The language used is powerful, elegant, and evocative. Frankly, I love the term “anguisette.” It’s beautiful, and yet speaks volumes about what it means. This is typical of all of Carey’s takes on the real world. The Yeshuites are obviously a variant on the Jews of the 15th or so century, and the Tsingano people are clearly the Romany, or Gypsies. (It’s also telling of the complexity of this book that I could forget to mention Phedre’s studies with the Yeshuite scholars, or her quest to free her childhood friend Hyacinthe, one of the Tsingano, from the clutches of the cursed Master of the Straits…) Basically, she takes the everyday things, and twists them ever so slightly, without losing their essential feel or power.

I can’t recommend Kushiel’s Chosen or Kushiel’s Dart highly enough. My only warning is that the erotic parts, and they are decent in number, may be a bit explicit or unusual for some sensibilities. If you object to BDSM, you may have a problem. This story is not for the weak of heart. Your mileage may vary. Enjoy.