Kushiel's Chosen

asked to see me."
    "Yes, my lord warden." I took a breath; I had not expected him to soften. "My lord, I wish to beg of you a boon. I wish to send a letter, no more." I paused, and he said naught. "I will not insult you by protesting my innocence, my lord," I continued. "I daresay you hear it often enough, and 'tis not your place to judge, but only to enforce. I ask only the chance to notify my Queen of my fate. As she is my sovereign, she has the right to know; no less would we accord to any foreign national in Terre d'Ange. And you may believe me," I added, "when I tell you that Ysandre de la Courcel would pay dearly for this knowledge." His expression did not change. I took a step forward. "Aught you might ask, my lord," I said steadily. "I will set it in writing, and bind her by the sacred words of House L'Envers, her mother's line, that not even the Queen herself may refuse."
    And I could, too, for I now knew that Nicola L'Envers y Aragon had not played me false, but given a weapon of great power into my hands. She was right, Barquiel L'Envers and I had been stupidly blinded by our suspicions, and the throne would be lost because of it. Like squabbling children in a barn, we had ignored the open door through which the wolf might saunter.
    It doesn't matter what you believe. Just remember it.
    I did.
    The warden stirred. Over his left shoulder, Fabron mouthed something obscene at me, miming a wet-lipped kiss. I ignored him, concentrating on the warden.
    Who said, flatly, "No."
    I stared, uncomprehending, and waited for more while my heart sunk like a stone in my breast. When it was not forthcoming, I fought the ludicrous urge to laugh and said instead, "My lord, may 1 ask why?"
    His words were measured out like the slow drip of water falling in a cave. "This is La Dolorosa and I am its warden. No more and no less. Asherat has sent you, and I will ward you until she claims you."
    "Asherat!" The word burst from my lips. "My lord, Asherat's very Oracle has been subverted in the conspiracy that sent me here'. Ask, if you do not believe, ask in the great temple in the Square, and see if Her prophet's place was not usurped for a day! Ask the Doge himself, the Beloved of Asherat, how Her priestesses have dealt with him! I tell you, thrones hang upon this letter, and the very sanctity of your beliefs!"
    I was raving; 1 knew I was raving. And worse, I could not seem to stop. As the torrent of my voice continued, I saw the warden nod once to Fabron, who came forward to grip my arms, driving me backward. He maneuvered his body close to mine, licking his lips.
    It was not easy, but I regained control of myself and shook him off. Melisande's bond of protection held; he let go of me ostentatiously, raising both hands in the air.
    "Elua grant you may regret this, my lord," I said quietly to the warden.
    "You may pray so, if you wish." No more than that did he say, but opened the door to my cell, beckoning Fabron ahead of him and exiting after. The door closed and locked, leaving me alone once more.
    One hope, gone.
    It left only Joscelin and TiPhilippe ... or Melisande.
    I did not much like my chances either way.

FORTY-FOUR
    Melisande did not come without warning.
    I knew, the next time a guard brought a wash bucket and soap, what it meant. I took no pleasure in it this time, only a certain bitter amusement. It would not do for the Princess-Consort of Benedicte de la Courcel to find me unwashed and unkempt in a foul and reeking cell, of course. No, Melisande would order me bathed, like some battle-chieftain with a choice captive of war.
    I did it, though I was tempted to defiance. But having already been forcibly fed, I had no wish to repeat the experience with a scrubbing, and something in the guard's expression-he was a new one, whose name I did not know-suggested that it was likely. When I had done, I donned the clean dress he'd brought and sat cross-legged on my pallet to wait.
    I did not have overlong.
    This time, I did not flinch, nor retreat. I remained as I was, while Melisande's presence filled the cell like a candleflame or a song. I was proud of that small act of will. If she had brought me low, well then, that was the territory I would claim for my own. Let her stoop, if she wished to reach me.
    So I thought; being Melisande, of course, she did not, but merely looked down at me, gauging to a nicety what I did, and why. A faint smile hovered at the coiner of her mouth. I had no tricks she did not know. What my lord