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at her wrist, “... I hold in an open hand.”
    It reminded me of Emile, closing his fist in the Cockerel; it reminded me of Hyacinthe’s vision of Kushiel, holding a key and a diamond in his grasp. It reminded me that I had known too few people in my life with the courage and wisdom to hold that which they valued in an open hand. It reminded me of why I had commissioned Nicola L’Envers y Aragon’s garnet seal to be made in the first place.
    “You wear it,” I said softly.
    “Yes.” She laughed. “Ah, Phèdre! I always wear it. ’Tis the only one of its kind, after all. Aragonians may not know what that means. I do.”
    A cabochon garnet, as vivid a crimson as the mote in my left eye, bearing a single emblem carved in relief: a dart, exquisite in detail, from the sharp tip to the fine lines etched in its fletching.
    Kushiel’s Dart.
    I have only ever given a lover’s token once in my life, and that this seal, to the Lady Nicola. She was a patron, once; a friend, after. I have never forgotten that had I trusted to her advice, had I not been ruled by my suspicions, a good deal of harm would have been averted. It was at a time when Barquiel L’Envers and I were at cross-purposes to each other, both of us seeking Melisande Shahrizai, neither of us willing to believe the other. How Melisande must have laughed, safely ensconced in the Little Court of La Serenissima, watching us circle each other in mistrust! If we had shared information, if we had joined our forces, we would surely have found her sooner.
    And my beloved chevaliers Fortun and Remy would not have died, nor many others besides. Imriel de la Courcel would not have been sent to the sanctuary of Elua, would not now be missing, stolen by slave-traders.
    An outsider, exiled by marriage to the courts of Aragonia, Nicola had seen our folly. She had tried to tell me, though I would not hear it. And when I would not, she entrusted me with the sacred password of House L’Envers, the words which compelled aid in direst need. By the burning river ...
    Not even the Queen had broken with the protocol of her mother’s House to trust me with those words. Only Nicola. It taught me something I never learned elsewhere. And some eight years ago, I returned the favor, giving her that which I never gave any other.
    “I am glad,” I said aloud, “that you value it.”
    “Ah, well.” Nicola turned the seal-bracelet absently on her slender wrist. “I am glad, my dear, that you do not regret it. I am passing fond of your Cassiline, too, but he is a jealous consort.”
    “Joscelin ...” I spread my hands, “... is Joscelin.”
    “Yes.” She smiled. “And probably a worse torment to you than I could devise. Well, it must be hard on him, that you serve Melisande’s will in this.”
    “Hard?” I pondered it, shaking my head. “Truly, Nicola, I’m not sure whose will I serve, anymore. What am I to make of it, when Melisande’s will accords with Ysandre’s? I am Naamah’s Servant, twice-pledged-and yet Naamah has no role in this, none I can see. I am Kushiel’s Chosen, yes, and Kushiel ...” I shuddered. “Kushiel is architect of this horror, if I am no fool. Do I serve his will to thwart it? I thought, when I began, that it was my own will I served, my sole true goal to free Hyacinthe, my friend.”
    “And now,” Nicola murmured, “you are not so sure.”
    “No.” I drained my wine-cup and set it down. “Now that I have spoken to the warders and companions and parents of children, innocent children, who have suffered for Kushiel’s justice, I am not so sure, not so sure at all whom I serve. There is something at work here. I do not know what it is.”
    A lesser friend would have spoken easy words of comfort. Nicola didn’t. “I can make no promises, Phèdre. As you say, the trail is cold. But if it is to be found in Amílcar, Count Fernan’s men will find it.” Her smile this time was grim. “I don’t care if it serves Melisande Shahrizai or the Khalif of Khebbel-im-Akkad. If there is trade in D’Angeline flesh going on in Amílcar, I will see it stopped.”
    “Thank you,” I said simply.
    Nicola shrugged. “This one needs no thanks. I have some influence. I am pleased to have a good reason to exercise it. They’re few and far enough between as it is.”
    “Speaking of which ...” I eyed her. “Will I find Marmion Shahrizai in residence?”
    “Marmion?” Nicola relaxed again, looking amused. “No, Lord Marmion stayed at court,