Kushiel's Chosen

the Little Court. She will remember me kindly, I think, and be pleased to hear my greetings."
    "Thank you, my lady." I didn't know what else to say.
    "You are welcome." Allegra smiled ruefully. "My husband is a good man, Comtesse, and I think you would come to see it in time. I did. If he is suspicious, he has been given reason for it, too often to count. But he struggles very hard to do what is right, and is rewarded with scorn." She sighed. "If the Doge were not ill, it might be different. Once, he would entertain the captains of the Scholae thrice a year, and hear their complaints. If he could talk to them, he would know that Ricciardo labors honestly on their behalf, and they regard him with respect. Tradefolk do not care for the petty intrigues of nobility so much as the bread on their table. But his father..." She shook her head, and gave me a direct look. "Would it be different in Terre d'Ange, do you think?"
    "Mayhap," I said gently. "Many things are. But not of a necessity, my lady. My own lord, Anafiel Delaunay, was shunned by his father for choosing to pledge his life to our Prince Rolande rather than marry and beget a family of his own. It ended in tragedy, and the title I inherited, he never lived to bear. The laws of love are different, but the entanglements of family and betrayal are the same."
    Allegra nodded. "I see. Thank you." She rose from the desk and went to gaze out the window overlooking the rear of the estate, rich with farmlands. "Ricciardo has done his duty by his family. And we have been happy after our own fashion. Let his brother and sister-in-law mock if they will. For me, it is enough."
    I thought of their merriment in the garden, Ricciardo swinging his son astride his shoulders. His affection, her compassion. And I thought of my bitter quarrel with Joscelin, the hurtful words, yet unrecanted. We had been granted imperfect happiness in love, Allegra Stregazza and I, but where I squandered mine, she nurtured hers, cupping her hands about the embers and blowing to life a flame warm enough to sustain them all.
    "You have a lovely family, my lady," I said softly. "I envy you."

THIRTY-SEVEN
    I wasted no time calling upon Madame Felicity d'Arbos.
    For this excursion, I took with me my three chevaliers. I doubted I'd come to harm within the Little Court, well-guarded as it was, and they were more adept than Joscelin at ferreting out the sort of knowledge I sought.
    Fortun had smacked his forehead when I put my theory to them, for not having thought of it himself. He dragged out the carefully crafted maps of Troyes-le-Mont and we marked afresh in memory the knowledge we had garnered before, including the positions and reports of the guards I'd interviewed among the Unforgiven.
    Thus armed, we went forth.
    The guards at the canal gate of the Little Court greeted me with deference, examining the seal of Allegra's letter and granting us admittance, summoning a servant lad to run to Madame d'Arbos' quarters and announce me.
    It was strange, after the bustling familiarity of Serenissiman society, to be in D'Angeline territory once more, surrounded by D'Angeline faces, hearing my native tongue spoken. There was a measured elegance to the pace, a hush in the presence of nobility. The very marble seemed whiter, the ceilings higher, the halls wider, and all the little grace notes I had missed were present-musicians playing in the salons we passed, unexpected niches holding vases of blooming flowers, graceful frescoes on the walls and ceilings.
    All of these we passed en route to Madame d'Arbos' quarters, the lad having returned to report that she would be most pleased to receive me. A young guardsman was delegated to escort us, tugging his blue-and-silver House Courcel livery straight and blushing every time he glanced my way. At the doors, I suggested that we need not trouble Madame with the presence of my chevaliers, if he would be so kind as to entertain them, showing them, mayhap, to the guards' common room, where they might while away the time.
    To this, he acceded with another blush.
    I must say, although it accomplished no end in itself, my visit with Madame Felicity d'Arbos proved delightful. A widow of some fifty-odd years, she was one of the D'Angeline noblewomen sent with Prince Benedicte to attend his Serenissiman wife; Allegra's mother had been one of the native Serenissimans so appointed, many years ago. It explained, I thought, a good deal about her education. Felicity's rooms were