Kushiel's Chosen (3 page)

"Did you hear?" Cecilie changed the subject, poring over the tray of dainties. "Prince Benedicte has remarried."

"Oh, yes." She looked amused. "Do you suppose the pas sions of the flesh wither with age, my dear?"

"No," I said absently. "What does it betoken, for the throne?"

"Naught that I know of." She nibbled at a bit of marche-pain. "As Ganelon's brother, Benedicte is still formally next in line, but he has two daughters to succeed him, although I understand Thérèse is imprisoned for her part in Isabel L'Envers' death."

"And Barquiel L'Envers?"

"The Duc L'Envers." Cecilie set her piece of marchepain down unfinished. "If you're wary of anyone, be wary of him, Phèdre. Ysandre is thick with her uncle—and I do not say it is wrong, for blood calls to blood. But House L'Envers was ever ambitious, and he was your lord's enemy, you know. Ysandre may be Isabel's daughter, but she bears Rolande's blood."

"When were politics aught else?" Cecilie gave me a long, evaluating glance. "If you're going to do this, we'll need to set you up properly, Phèdre no Delaunay de Montrève. In living memory, no peer of the realm has chosen to follow Naamah's service. You're going against fashion, my dear."

"No." I smiled. "I never did, in Delaunay's service. My ... patrons ... prefer to set their own terms, on their own territory. I am an
anguissette,
after all."

"Well, if anyone can restore the lustre to Naamah's ser vice, it's you, child." She cocked her head. "You'll at least need the services of a proper attendant. Have you a seam stress in mind? If you've not, I've word of a lass in Eglantine House who might do." I shook my head. "Have you registered with the Guild yet? You'll need to do that, now that you've made your marque. Oh, Phèdre!" Cecilie clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "We've so much to do!"

days. Pouring more tea, I raised my brows and waited.

"I met the Rebbe." He cleared his throat and sipped at his tea. "He's ... a rather formidable figure. He reminded me of the Prefect."

"I mentioned it." Joscelin set his cup down. "He thought I was interested in converting," he said dryly. "Mayhap I should consider it."

It had been done, I knew; there were tales of heroes who had defied the will of the One God's emissaries, outwitting them with guile and scholarship. But those were in the days when angels walked the earth and the gods spoke directly to their people. Now the gods kept their counsel, and only we lesser-born mortals, whose bloodlines bore faint traces of ichor, were left to the stewardship of the land.

"Well, I will speak to him, if he will hear me."

I have a gift for languages, but that wasn't what he meant. I closed my eyes against the pain; Joscelin's, mine, piercing at the core and welling outward in misery. Elua, but it was sweet! The pain of the flesh is naught to the pain of the soul. I bit the inside of my lower lip, willing the tide of it to subside, horrified in some part of me that I could take pleasure in it. Melisande's face swam in memory behind my closed lids, sublimely amused. True scion of Kushiel's line, she would have understood it as no other.

"How much did he spend?"

He shrugged. "He got it for a song, he said, but it's in dreadful shape. They think they can repair it. Fortun's grandfather was a wheelwright."

I ran my hands through my hair, disheveling the mass of sable curls. I didn't care for this penny-counting, necessary though it was. My father had been a spendthrift, which was how I came to be bond-sold to Cereus House as a child; it made me wary of debt. Still, I didn't have to like it. Joscelin watched me out of the corner of his eye. "How long, do they think? I should send word to Ysandre."

"Three days, mayhap. Less if they've naught else to do." He made an abrupt movement, gathering the tea tray. "It's late. I will see you in the morning, my lady."

There were barbs on the words, his formal address. I en dured them in silence and watched him go, leaving me alone with the remorseless pleasure of my pain.

So be it. There is no shame in being a Servant of Naamah, nor an
anguissette.
We are D'Angeline, and we revere such things. Other nations reckon us soft for it; the Skaldi found otherwise. But too, it is as I have said—our blood has grown thick with mortality, and one such as I, marked by a celestial hand, was a rarity.

It is not a thing, I may say, in which I take pride; I grew up in Cereus House, where the crimson mote in my eye marked me not as Kushiel's chosen, but merely as one flawed beyond the canons of the Night Court. It was Delau nay who changed that, and named me for what I was. And in truth, I have no special gift beyond the transmutation of pain, which has been as much curse as boon to me. If I am skilled at language and logic, it is because I was well taught; Alcuin, who was a student with me, was better. It is only a quirk of fate that left me alive to exercise them, while he and Delaunay perished. Not a day passes but that I remember it. I would give up all that I have gained to change that past. Since I cannot, I do the best I can, and pray it does honor to their memories.

It was strange to have the Queen's Guard bow at the Palace gates, to be met by liveried servants and enter the halls with an entire entourage in tow. If Joscelin was grave, Phèdre's Boys were on their best behavior, trying hard to look dignified. I didn't worry about Fortun, sober by nature, but Remy and Ti-Philippe had a talent for mischief.

Heads turned, a few murmurs sounded. Ysandre de la Courcel came toward me with a smile. "Phèdre," she said, grasping my hands and giving me the kiss of greeting. There was genuine pleasure lighting her violet eyes when she drew back. "Truly, I am happy to see you."

"Joscelin Verreuil." She rested her fingertips on his arm when he finished his sweeping bow. "I trust you have been keeping my near-cousin safe?"

It was Ysandre's jest, to name me thusly. Of a surety, there were ties of neither blood nor marriage between us, but my lord Delaunay, who had taken me into his household, had been dearly beloved of her father Rolande. Indeed, that love had gone deeper than many suspected, and Delaunay had sworn in secret an oath to ward Ysandre's life as his own.

"I protect and serve, your majesty." Joscelin smiled, warmth in his words and not irony. Whatever lay between us, his loyalty to the Queen was undiminished.

"Good." Ysandre looked with amusement at the bowed heads of Remy, Fortun and Ti-Philippe, who had all dropped to one knee before her. "Well met, chevaliers," she said

kindly. "Does your service still suit, or does the sea beckon

you back to my lord Admiral Rousse?"

Remy grinned up at her. "We are well content, your majesty."

"Come, Phèdre, tell me how you have been keeping. I am sure your men will find ample entertainment in the Hall of Games, and I am eager to learn what has brought you back to the City of Elua."

She smiled wryly. "Well enough. We are fewer than be fore, I fear, but our alliance with Alba has given us new strength. Drustan will be sorry to have missed you."

"And I him." There had been a strong sympathy between us, the Cruarch of Alba and I.

"Come spring, he'll be back." There was a faint trace of longing in Ysandre's voice; I doubt it would have been evident to anyone not trained to listen for such things. "So tell me, was Montrève too rustic for your liking?"

"Not entirely," I answered honestly. "It is very pleasant. But there is a matter I am pursuing that I cannot follow from the isolation of a country manor." Ysandre looked at me with interest, and I told her of my research into Yeshuite lore, my dream of finding a key to unlock Hyacinthe's prison. I could not help but mark, as we walked, how all eyes in the Hall of Games followed the Queen, and a hum of speculation followed in her wake. Nobles contrived to place themselves in our path, moving aside with a bow or curtsy; I could see the offers plain in their faces, men' and women alike.

Ysandre handled it with an absent grace. "Your Tsingano lad, yes. I wish you luck with it. They are a strange folk, the Yeshuites." She shook her head. "I do not pretend to understand them. We welcome them openly in Terre d'Ange, and they accept our hospitality on sufferance."