Joscelin was startled enough to let James drag him away out of the public thoroughfare, but when he dug his nails into his shoulder enough was enough. He gripped his wrist in calloused fingers, twisting the hand away from him and pressing his fingers into the tendons, knowing it would hurt. His voice stayed nominally calm, but suppressed fury surged up under it.

"As if I would wish to be useful to a man like you," he replied. His face was a mask of tension but his blue eyes snapped angrily. "Do not speak of my lady Phedre that way or I will be glad to make you regret it."

He didn't like her himself- of course not- but that did not give anyone else the right to speak crudely of her. Not where he could hear them.