Kushiel's Chosen

obligingly described. When we had done, the children were dismissed unto the custody of their nursemaid, leaving us with a hastily bobbed bow and curtsy and beaming approval on the part of the parents.
    It was, on the whole, a delightful performance-and I did not think it was only that. There was genuine affection and respect between Ricciardo and Allegra, and an abiding warmth for their children. But he was the Doge's son, and I was not naive enough to believe that this pleasant visit was not about politics.
    So it proved, over a dessert cordial. Ricciardo toasted our health, then spoke bluntly. "My lady Phèdre." He set down his glass. "Please do not take it amiss when I say I know who and what you are. I didn't recognize the name when we met, but I remembered it later, from the Ysandrine Cycle. I say this not to embarrass you, because I think in your own land you must be reckoned a heroine, and I admire that, as I do many things about Terre d'Ange, but because I know my brother. Whatever he may have promised you, no matter what the religious significance in your homeland, Marco Stregazza will not let his son marry a courtesan."
    I did not protest that I had no desire to do so, but said instead, "Severio thinks he will." To his credit, Joscelin made no comment.
    "Severio." Ricciardo grimaced. "Severio has done no more than dip a toe in the bottomless pool of intrigue that is his birthright. He's not a bad lad, though he can be short-tempered and cruel. Less so, I hear, since meeting you, for which I owe you thanks. Nonetheless, he doesn't know the tenth part of his father's schemes."
    I raised my eyebrows. "He seems to know a tenth part of yours. And he actually has a good grasp of what a strike by the salt-panners could do to La Serenissima."
    "Does he?" Ricciardo paused, startled. "Well, if he knows that much, I wish he could see that the Consiglio is breaking the back of the workers and tradesfolk who support them with these damnable taxes, all to build this glorious navy." He shook his head, adding bitterly, "But I suppose he believes his mother and father, who tell him that his uncle is rousing the Scholae in a desperate bid for political gain.”
    "It's plain folly!" Allegra said indignantly. "Anyone with half a wit to study the annals can see that the Consiglio Maggiore has never elected a Doge from Sestieri Scholae. If all Ricciardo wanted was gain, why he'd, he'd be better off courting Sestieri Angelus' vote!" She blushed at her own words, but her expression remained no less indignant.
    "Marie-Celeste said you have no love for the Little Court," I said neutrally to Ricciardo.
    "My sister-in-law doesn't know a damned thing about it!" His eyes flashed. "Yes, I sided with my family, out of respect for my father. I think Benedicte was wrong, blaming the entire Stregazza line for the treachery of Dominic and Thérèse. And I think he was wrong to set the son of this second marriage above his firstborn children, especially knowing that Marie-Celeste may inherit naught of his holdings in La Serenissima. But if she hadn't been so suspicious, if she hadn't reacted like such a termagant..." He sighed, gathering his composure. "Comtesse, your Prince Benedicte languished twenty years in a loveless marriage, sold into the bonds of political matrimony by his brother Ganelon. When Maria Stregazza died, he mourned her as much as was seemly. But now he is an old man with an adoring young bride, a refugee from his beloved homeland, who has given him a son. I believe he declared this infant Imriel his heir out of sheer exuberance, with no thought for his actions. Given time and a tactful approach, he would doubtless revise his words and divide his territories between children. If my father would only see reason, he would send a suitable emissary to Prince Benedicte and resolve this foolish quarrel."
    "Such as yourself?" I inquired.
    Ricciardo shrugged. "I have friends, still, among the Little Court. I think Benedicte would listen to me. It is my father who will not." He looked at me. "I trast Marco and Marie-Celeste told you there was a scandal."
    "Yes." I glanced at Allegra, but she was watching her husband, compassion on her face.
    "Yes, well." Ricciardo's mouth twisted. "You may as well know it. My father gave me the task of entertaining the son of a D'Angeline ambassador from the Little Court. I was caught out at performing my duty rather too well, and my father has held me in contempt ever since, no matter how hard I