Kushiel's Chosen

"Yes." I gazed at the torchlight gleaming on rich fabrics; soft, pleasurable textures. "In order that this would seem paradise by comparison. And it would have." I touched my bare throat where her diamond had once hung and shivered again. "I'd made up my mind to take her offer, Joscelin. The very night you came. This is what you spared me."

Wisely, he said nothing more, but only took my arm and drew me away.

Once the palace of the Little Court was safely held, a pair of Royal Couriers was dispatched to be carried by swift gondolini to the mainland, where another, smaller portion of the Queen's retinue was encamped and the horses pastured.

Still, the search of Benedicte's palace continued, supervised by Amaury Trente. Even after the Dogal Guardsmen were dismissed with thanks, the search continued until at last Lord Trente reported to Ysandre, now ensconced in Prince Benedicte's throne room.

I had returned from my sojourn to view Melisande' s dungeon and waited attendance on the Queen, along with Joscelin and a handful of other D'Angeline nobles. I saw the taut futility etched in Lord Trente' s face as he made his report, shaking his head.

"I am sorry, your majesty," he said. "But the babe is not here."

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Sometime in the middle of the night, word arrived from the Dogal Palace that Prince Benedicte de la Courcel had died of his injuries.

Ysandre heard out the news with no more than a nod, and what she thought of it, I never knew. It was a mark of her character that she bore out these dreadful betrayals without succumbing to the desire for vengeance. Over furious protest, she had made arrangements for the body of David de Rocaille to be returned home by ship and buried on his family estate.

"He sought my life in exchange for his sister's death," she said implacably. "Let it end here." And insofar as I know, it did, save for those events already in motion.

Ysandre's search for Benedicte and Melisande's son was another such mark of character, although there are those who claimed-and always will be-that she sought the child's life. It was not so. At a little over two years wed, Ysandre and Drustan had not yet conceived. With Prince Benedicte dead and his daughters by his Serenissiman wife disgraced, the lines of succession were clear. Barquiel L'Envers, however much she trusted him, whatever his ambition, had not a drop of Courcel blood in his veins; and House Courcel held the throne of Terre d'Ange.

Until the Queen conceived, the infant Imriel de la Courcel was her heir.

I do not think Ysandre intended him to inherit-she was young, and had every hope of yet bearing children of her own-but she had spoken truly in the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea. Rather than allow another blood-feud to fester, she would take the child into her household and see him raised with honor and respect, thwarting whatever hopes Melisande Shahrizai harbored of her son eventually cleaving House Courcel in twain.

It might even have worked.

The babe's nursemaid gave her testimony in stammering D'Angeline, over and over. All she knew was that she'd been given orders to see him made ready to be taken to the ceremony of investiture, fed and rested ere dawn and swaddled in cloth-of-silver. One of the Princess' attendants, a man she knew by sight, but not name, had come for the babe, and she'd given him into his custody. Neither man nor child were seen again.

We had a clear description of the infant from numerous sources: a babe of some six months' age, with fair skin, a dense crop of black hair and eyes the hue of blue twilight. By all accounts, Imriel de la Courcel was a beautiful babe- unmistakably, his mother's son.

And just as unmistakably, he was missing.

The following day bore strange, familiar echoes of the aftermath of the battle of Troyes-le-Mont as the denizens of the Little Court were brought before Ysandre for hard questioning. A few were detained, but most appeared genuinely ignorant of Melisande's identity and Benedicte's betrayal. None of them had knowledge of the missing heir. Last time, I had faced questioning too; this time, I stood beside Ysandre's throne, watching and listening for the telltales of a lie. In the matter of the child, I saw none. Melisande's contingency plan was cloaked in secrecy.

Ti-Philippe returned quietly in the small hours of the morning, reporting with weary relief that all the Yeshuites had gotten out safely; I was glad to hear it, and Joscelin all the more so. One day, a party of Serenissiman Yeshuites would indeed depart for the far northern lands, where the sun never sets in summertime but shines day and night upon the snowy vistas, and they would be led by a young man named Micah ben Ximon, who fought with crossed daggers that shone like a star in his hands-but that is a story for another day, and not mine to tell.

I was just glad it was not Joscelin's.

A long night, and a long day to follow it. I made a report in full to Ysandre at one point, detailing all I could remember from my arrival in La Serenissima to my return and my appearance in the balcony. It took the better part of two hours, and Ysandre's Secretary of the Presence, the Lady Denise Grosmaine, wrote furiously the entire time, quill scratching against the parchment. I'm not sure which of us was more tired when I had finished. Ysandre merely looked at me with her brows raised.

"Blessed Elua and his Companions surely watch over you, Phèdre," she remarked. "For I cannot think how else you are alive to tell me this."

"Nor can I, my lady," I said wearily. "Nor can I."

She took my hand, her gaze turning sober. "And over me, Phèdre nó Delaunay, to have given me such a servant as no mortal deserves. Anafiel Delaunay swore an oath to my father out of love. I did not ask you to keep it in his name. Nonetheless, know that I am grateful for it, beyond the telling of words. His memory lives in your deeds. I will not forget either."

I nodded, unable to speak for the tears that choked me. Ysandre smiled gently, squeezed my hand and released it, and I gave silent thanks to Blessed Elua that he had sired a line that had begotten this scion, worthy of serving.

If not for the incipient war unfolding at home, we would have lingered longer in La Serenissima. There were a good many affairs to be set in order, not the least of which was the inheritance of the Little Court. With Benedicte's daughters both accused of treason and his infant son missing, the lines of succession pointed clearly to Severio. I spoke on his behalf, for I reckoned I owed him as much-he had saved my life, after all-but in the end, Ysandre elected to appoint a member of her own entourage, the Vicomte de Cherevin, to serve as steward of the estate until the matter was settled.

'Twas a dangerous post, and he accepted it with equanimity, knowing full well the risks entailed. De Cherevin was a man who had served under Ganelon de la Courcel as Ambassador to Tiberium, and he was unwaveringly loyal and wise to the ways of Caerdicci politics.

Even so, it took two full days to take care of the business of securing the Little Court and gain the Doge's approval of the arrangements. On the second day, Ricciardo and Allegra Stregazza came to call upon the Queen of Terre d'Ange.

Ysandre received them unhesitatingly, based on their own actions and my advice as well, if I may say so. Ricciardo's prestige and that of the entire Sestieri Scholae had risen since the melee at the Temple; he was accorded a popular hero, for defying his brother to put down the riots. Ysandre dealt graciously with them, and it did my heart good to see Allegra Stregazza's face alight at being thanked for her role-for it was she who had received my message hidden in the Yeshuite scroll and persuaded Ricciardo to action.

"Comtesse de Montrève." They paused upon leaving the audience, and Ricciardo stooped to kiss me in gratitude. "You have preserved my life, and more," he said fervently. "If there is aught I can do for you, name it."

"There is, actually," I said, glancing at Allegra. "My lord, in Terre d'Ange, the Servants of Naamah are protected by secular guild-laws. I have noted in La Serenissima how the courtesans' quarter is despised, one of the meanest sections of the city. If you would honor me for what I have done, mayhap the courtesans of La Serenissima might be brought within the fold of the Sestieri Scholae. If it is their will to pursue this occupation, let them be trained and educated, and accorded guild-laws for their own protection and benefit."

Ricciardo responded with open-mouthed surprise, but I saw a glimmer of daring and comprehension in Allegra's eyes. She had studied the ways and manners of Terre d'Ange, envying our freedom in matters of love; if there was any woman in La Serenissima who would be willing to undertake the elevation of the courtesan class, it was Allegra Stregazza.

'Teach them to read and write, the gentle arts of poesy and conversation?" she asked, smiling a little. "Those skills reckoned unfit for noblewomen?"

"Yes, my lady." I smiled back at her, inclining my head. "Precisely."

Ricciardo closed his mouth and swallowed, looking at his gracious and capable wife. "Comtesse," he then said to me. "In your honor, I shall so endeavor."

"I am glad to hear it."

And indeed, in this matter, Ricciardo Stregazza kept his word, creating a legacy that lived on after his death. Although no courtesan of La Serenissima would ever rival the Servants of Naamah-even in its decline, the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers remained unparalleled-they became in time a byword for wit and elegant pleasure in Caerdicca Unitas. Or at least the women did, I should say, for no self-respecting Caerdicci man would prostitute himself.

Once it became evident that the search for Imriel de la Courcel was fruitless, Ysandre sent to the Temple of Asherat to arrange for a meeting with Melisande Shahrizai. To my dismay, it was her will that I attend. Her reasoning was that I knew Melisande's mind better than anyone else; my recalcitrance had much to do with that same fact.

Nonetheless, I went.

Some of my possessions had been recovered from the quarters of Marie-Celeste Stregazza; not what I had lost at La Dolorosa-those things I never saw again, including the great collar of pearls given me by the Doge-but the items seized from my rented house on the canal. It included a portion of my wardrobe, some of which had been altered to fit Marie-Celeste, ever greedy for the latest of D'Angeline fashion, and some of which had not, for lack of matching fabric. There was considerably less of me to cover.

My sangoire cloak was among the items retrieved, too. That I did not wear, but folded carefully at the bottom of my trunk. I could no more bring myself to discard it than could Marie-Celeste Stregazza. Anyway, it had been a gift from Delaunay.

Also included was the signet ring of Montrève, which I reclaimed with no little relief, not so much for its own sake as for the memory of my lord Delaunay, who never wore it as was his right. It was fortunate that I never wore it either, the ring being too massive for my finger, or it too would

have been lost at La Dolorosa. The ring, Marie-CeJeste had

kept out of practicality and not greed, using it to set my seal to a handful of forged letters such as the one, I had learned, which convinced Ysandre that I had gone to Ephesium in pursuit of the rumor of Melisande's presence. Ti-Philippe had a jeweler in the Little Court repair the chain on which Joscelin's khai pendant had hung, and had the signet of Montrève strung on it that I might wear it about my neck. I wept when he showed me what he'd done.

Thus was I garbed in my own attire, one of those splendid gowns made for me by Favrielle no Eglantine, and bore the insignia of my title against my skin when I faced Melisande Shahrizai. It helped, a little, to remind me that I was indeed the Comtesse de Montrève.

Not that it mastered much, where Melisande was concerned. But it helped.

The mood within the Temple was sombre and well it might be, for we had heard the rumors filtering through the Little Court. The Priestess of the Crown and the two Elect who had aided her in blasphemy were dead, executed in accordance with Temple ritual. Asherat's vengeance was swift and sure, and their blood had darkened her altar. Passing her effigy, I averted my eyes. By their laws it was just, but I did not like to think on it.

We were escorted into a salon within the rear of the Temple; a pleasant room set about with couches, with a small fountain lending the sound of falling water. Flanked by priestesses and attendants, adorned in blue robes and the shimmering veil, Melisande received us like a Queen in her own right.

Ysandre de la Courcel took a seat opposite her without being asked. The rest of us-which included myself, Joscelin, Lord Trente, Lady Grosmaine, two guardsmen and Ysandre's surviving Cassiline-remained standing.

"Your majesty." Melisande made a graceful gesture of acknowledgment, her tone pleasant and unconcerned. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I want the child," Ysandre said calmly. "What have you done with him?"

"Ah." Behind the veil, Melisande smiled, and I knew her face was alight with intelligence. "My son. He is safe, your majesty. I thank you for your concern."

"I am not playing a game, Lady Shahrizai." The Queen's voice hardened. "I am not playing your game. I am acting in the interests of the realm; no more, and no less. Where is the child?"

"The realm," Melisande said wryly. "Indeed. Is it in the interests of the realm that a single monarch hold the throne? Blessed Elua did not think so; 'twas his Companions who parceled the realm in jealous pieces. You seek to hold a prize given you by accident of birth, Ysandre de la Courcel. I seek to claim it by right of the wits with which I was born. Even the Doges of La Serenissima can point to the mandate of popular election to justify their power. Do not tell me you do not play my game."

Ysandre paled; I do not think she had truly crossed wits with Melisande before. Nonetheless, she retained her composure. "I have neither the time nor the will to engage in sophistry. If it was your wish to reform the D'Angeline system of governance, you have gone about it in a passing strange manner. The penalty for what you have done, you know full well. I am offering to spare your son the taint of it and see him raised to the honor that is his due." 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">