Kushiel's Chosen

"I asked." As the Queen's Poet, Thelesis could ask nearly anything without being questioned; it would be presumed research for some work of poesy. "Orphans taken in by the Cassiline Brotherhood always take on the Prefect's name. Rinforte's been Prefect for a long time." She turned her head away to cough, and looked back apologetically. "He's had a wasting sickness these past months, one of the Brothers told me. That's likely why neither Joscelin nor Micheline de Parnasse received a reply."

"Ah." I finished reading the list and set it down.

"Nothing?" Thelesis' dark eyes were sympathetic.

I shook my head. "No. Or if there is, I don't see it."

"I'm sorry." She rose to embrace me, and her bones felt light and frail; it unnerved me, on the heels of the news of the Prefect's health. "Kushiel is not gentle with his chosen," Thelesis whispered. "Have a care, Phèdre, and come home safe." She drew back and smiled gently at me. "Blessed Elua keep you."

"And you," I murmured, gripping her hands. "And you."

On the night the first part of it was to be implemented, I told my chevaliers of my plan. Would that Joscelin had been there, too, but I had played my game too closely; he had gone out that afternoon and not yet returned. I had no choice but to tell them, first dismissing my servants for the evening and swearing Phèdre's Boys to secrecy.

Predictably, they were overjoyed-even steady Fortun's eyes gleamed with excitement. Not two minutes was it out of my mouth but they were already planning the excursion, dividing up responsibility among themselves. Amused, I let them have at it.

I chose Fortun to escort me to the natal festivities of the Duchese de Chalasse that night, and left the others with two cautions. "Whatever you hear said of me," I said, looking especially at Ti-Philippe, "do not bely the underlying truth of it, mind? And when Joscelin returns, do not tell him. Let him know I would speak to him first thing, and leave it to me."

They promised, albeit reluctantly on the latter point. I threatened to leave whomever broke his word in the City of Elua, and left satisfied that they would obey.

Of that night, I will say little, save that it went as planned. Vivianne de Chalasse held great sway in L'Agnace; indeed, hers had been the sovereign duchy in the province until Ysandre had raised Percy de Somerville to the rank of Duc, and granted him ascendance. There was little ill-feeling over it-no one questioned that de Somerville had earned it, for commanding the defense against the Skaldic invasion-but enough that the Queen and Cruarch were impelled to attend the fête, smoothing any feathers that might remain ruffled.

I do not have a player's skill, but I daresay I dissemble well enough; and it was no hardship, to flirt and dance with Drustan mab Necthana. He played along with it with surprising grace, smiling and returning my banter in a mix of D'Angeline and Cruithne, and dancing with an elegance that belied his misshapen right foot. It was not difficult, finding a rhythm that accommodated his halting gate. He had lived with it since birth; one easily forgot that Drustan was lame. I remembered Delaunay's words, so long ago, light and amused. And Ysandre de la Courcel, flower of the realm, shall teach a clubfoot barbarian prince to dance the gavotte.

For her part, Ysandre did not overplay her role, but when I heard her voice, cold as the Bitterest Winter, ask if I were finished with her husband and would mind returning him to his wife, the Queen of Terre d'Ange, I swear, I felt the chill on my skin, and my flush was genuine. If Drustan's sudden gravity was feigned, no one would ever know it. All around us, D'Angeline nobles stepped back several paces as I made myself answer with studied indolence, a favored young courtesan trading on her stature.

"Phèdre nó Delaunay," Ysandre said coolly, omitting my title. "Your presence is no longer pleasing to us. We ask that you remove yourself from it."

With that, she turned her back on me, and even though it was as we had planned, I could not but help feeling my heart sink within me. Insolence to patrons is one thing, when it fans the embers of their desire, but the instinct for obedience is deep-rooted in me, and I was hard put not to throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness. Thankfully, Fortun hurried to my side to take my arm, tugging me away, and in a corridor of silence, we left the fête.

Behind us, I could hear the eternal murmurs rising.

TWENTY-SIX

"You what?" Joscelin's voice rose incredulously. "Phèdre, what were you thinking?"

"Done is done." I looked steadily at him. "I would have told you last night, but you weren't to be found. By now, the City will know that I am out of favor with the Queen. And on the morrow, we depart for La Serenissima. After what transpired last night, no one will think it strange. And no one will think me Ysandre' s agent in this."

"I can't believe Ysandre agreed to it," he muttered.

I looked down at my plate and toyed with a quartered pear. "It does not please her," I admitted, "but she agreed. Joscelin, I won't compel you. Will you go or not?"

He rose without answering, and paced the dining hall to gaze out a window that overlooked my tiny rear courtyard, where Eugenie had planted the beginnings of an herb garden. I sat watching him, his tall figure drenched in sunlight. "And if I say no?" he asked, not turning around. "What then?"

"Then you say no." My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, someone whose heart was not shattering into piercing splinters. Even as Joscelin turned around, one hand clenched around the khai pendant at his breast, my voice continued calmly. "You will stay, and play out your part in leading the Yeshuites to this prophesied homeland in the far north, if that is what your heart commands."

"My heart!" He laughed harshly, a tearing sound; it might almost have been a sob. He wrenched at the pendant as if to break its chain. "Would that Icould make of heart and soul something other than a battleground!"

I ached for him, and yearned to go to him; since I dared not, I closed my eyes instead. "If that is your choice, then tell the Rebbe that I did as I promised. The Queen will treat them as lightly as she dares, but if they break the law, they will be punished under it." I had spoken to Ysandre of it, before we were done laying our plans. She had agreed, bemusedly, to take my words under advisement.

Joscelin was staring at me when I opened my eyes. "What else does Ysandre say?"

It seemed he cared more for the Yeshuites than for me, and it turned my pain to anger, making me reply sharply. "That you are sworn into her service, and she orders you to accompany me to La Serenissima. And that she does not hold lightly with oath-breakers."

It is perhaps the worst thing one could say to a former Cassiline. His head jerked back as if I had slapped him, nostrils flaring, white lines etching themselves on his face. "Then it seems I must go," he said, biting off the words, "unless I am to break faith all at once with Cassiel, you and the Queen."

"Yeshua's forgiveness is absolute," I retorted. "If you seek it for one oath broken, why not three?"

Joscelin's summer-blue eyes held a look very close to hatred. "My lady Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève," he said with cruel, deliberate courtesy. "I will see you to La Serenissima, and fulfill my liege's command. And after that, I remand you to Naaman's custody and Kushiel's, since you are so ardent to serve them. Let them have the joy of you.”

"Fine," I said grimly, rising from the table and tossing down my linen napkin. "Speak to Remy about the travel arrangements. He will tell you all that is needful. You remind me, I have an obligation yet to fulfill."

I was not even certain, after last night's enactment, that Nicola L'Envers y Aragon would receive me; I'd not intended on this visit, before my unfortunate conversation with Joscelin. But Ti-Philippe returned posthaste from bearing my message: The lady was indeed most anxious to see me. So it was that I went one last time to the Palace, and in part, I was not sorry. I did owe Nicola the assignation I had promised in barter, and it would not have been well-omened to leave with my Service to Naamah incomplete.

I would have foregone it, though, if Joscelin had come willingly.

The Palace Guard admitted me without comment, cool and perfunctory. They had no orders to keep me out, though I daresay I'd have been turned away if I had asked to see Ysandre. But Nicola was the Queen's cousin, and they allowed me passage on her explicit order.

Mayhap it would have been wiser to seek solace in Kushiel's temple, but it was a relief, after all that had gone before, to surrender to a patron's whim. This time, Nicola's bindings held true to a knot, and there was not the least I could undo. Eyes bright with mingled curiosity and cruelty, she wielded the flogger unmercifully until it drew blood, moving me to violent pleasures, which I repaid with all the ardor with which Joscelin had accused me, until she was sated.

Afterward, she had chilled wine and fruits served, until I said it was time for me to go.

"No," Nicola said thoughtfully. "I don't think so. You have called the day and time of repaying your debt to me, Phèdre, and I would claim a forfeit for it. I had your promise that I might question you, but I've not done it yet, have I?" "No, my lady." I met her L'Envers eyes and hid a frisson of fear. She was, after all, Barquiel's ally, and I ran a risk in coming here.

Nicola smiled lazily. She knew; patrons almost always do. "All the Palace says you have fallen out of favor with Ysandre," she said softly. "But I do not believe it. Think of us what you like, but House L'Envers does not break faith with her followers for less than a mortal offense, and my cousin the Queen is as much L'Envers as she is Courcel. What game do you play now, Phèdre nó Delaunay?"

I did not answer, but said instead, "One rumor says Marmion Shahrizai rode straight for the Aragonian border, and has not been seen since. Did you offer him sanctuary?"

Her brows creased in a frown, then she laughed again, ruefully, and shook her head. "I should know better, after the first time. All right, then. Yes. I did." Nicola gave me a long, level look. "Marmion had word of what Barquiel was about, and he came to me the eve before, and told me the truth about the fire. I believed him. I do not disagree with my cousin the Duc's motives, but his methods ..." She shrugged. "He threw Marmion's life away, at that hearing. I told him if the worst fell out, the House of Aragon would receive him, if he made it there alive. I gave him Ramiro's name, and my word as surety. That, and no more."

"Your husband would take him in?" It surprised me, a

little.

"Marmion likes to drink, and gamble. He's an excellent courtier. Why not?" Nicola gave another shrug. "Ramiro knows the merits of indulging my whims, and it does not cross de Morhban's edict. Aragonia is exile. Believe me, I know. Will you answer me now?"

I shook my head, slowly.

"Blessed Elua!" She spat out the words like a curse, rising to pace restlessly about the room. "You and Barquiel... Phèdre, you're on the same side, only you're both too mistrustful to see it. Can't you see that with his resources and your wiles, you'd get a lot further working together?" She shot me a frustrated look. "Why would I lie? Any influence I hold in Aragonia is wholly dependent on Ysandre's retaining the throne of Terre d'Ange."

"Not exactly," I murmured, glancing at her. "Your cousin the Duc would do just as well, I think. And if he wishes me out of the way, he would be indebted to you for aiding him in the process. He's already disposed of Marmion, and Elua help me, I gave him the means to do it. Would I be wise, you think, to trust?" I shook my head. "Barquiel is more enemy than ally, and Ysandre has withdrawn her favor. Our debt is settled, and in Naamah's eyes, I owe you naught. I am not fool enough to linger here, my lady."

"So I heard. One of your chevaliers was reported buying travelling stores in the marketplace this very morning." She said it matter-of-factly; I hadn't doubted that the eyes of the City would be on my household, after last night. Nicola's gaze lingered on my face, and it was decisive. "Phèdre, listen to me," she said, her voice low and urgent, stooping in front of my chair to grasp my hands. "I don't know what you're about and when you come to it, I don't blame you for not telling me. But what I do know for truth, I know all the same. Cousin Barquiel is not a traitor." She drew a deep breath, paling slightly, and continued. "The password of House L'Envers is 'burning river.' If you need aid-mine, Barquiel's, even Ysandre's-any scion of the House is honor-bound to give it unquestioning."

"Why are you telling me this?" My voice shook asking it.

"What does it matter?" Releasing my hands, Nicola stood and smiled wryly. "Whatever I told you, you'd only come up with half a dozen reasons, each more sinister than the last. As it happens, I've seen my House torn apart by suspicion and enmity once, and I don't care to see it again. Your lord Delaunay and my cousin Isabel pulled Rolande de la Courcel in twain; I don't need to watch you and Barquiel do the same to Ysandre. But it doesn't matter what you believe. Just remember it."

I wanted to believe her; I wanted to question her. In the end, I dared do neither. At the door of her quarters, she gave me the kiss of farewell, and kept me for a moment, one hand on my arm, a peremptory touch that stirred my desires.

"Cousin Barquiel would have my tongue for what I told you," Nicola said quietly. "But he'll answer to it all the same. Do me a favor, and don't put it to the test unless you're truly in need." ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">