Kushiel's Chosen

Delaunay had taught me, he taught her, too, long ago. And in turn, she taught him to use people.
    As he had used me.
    "Have you decided?" Melisande inquired.
    I tilted my head back against the stone walls of my cell. "What would you do with me?"
    Another might have mistaken my meaning; Melisande didn't. "There is a dungeon in the Little Court. You would be held there until. .. matters in La Serenissima were resolved. Or mayhap longer. It depends on you." She glanced mildly around my cell. "It is a good deal more pleasant than this, being built for the enjoyment of Kusheline guests. Light, you will have, and comforts; decent clothing, food, a proper bath. Texts, if you wish; the library is good. Is it less secure for it, you wonder? No." She shook her head. "Not by much."
    "By some."
    "Yes," Melisande said thoughtfully. "Some."
    "There is the chance that I might play you false and win your trust."
    "Yes." A glimmer of amusement lit her glorious eyes. "There is that, too. Although I daresay if you thought it likely, you'd not say it aloud."
    Since it was true, I didn't bother to answer, asking instead, "Why risk it at all? All that you have striven for lies within your reach. Is it worth jeopardizing, no matter how slight the risk, merely to toy with me? I don't believe it, my lady, and I mistrust this offer of yours."
    "Do you?" Melisande walked to gaze through the barred window at the distant horizon, filtered daylight rendering her lovely features serene. "The game of thrones is a mortal one, my dear. Even if this gambit were to fail-and it will not-still, I have secured my endgame. My son, who is innocent in all things, stands third in line to the throne, the only scion of Courcel lineage untouched by treachery. No other member of House Shahrizai has achieved so much. But you ..." Turning, she smiled at me. "Kushiel has chosen you, Phèdre, and marked you as his own. To toy with you is to play a god's game."
    I shuddered. "You are mad," I said faintly.
    "No." Melisande shook her head again. "Only ambitious. I will ask again: Have you decided?"
    The crash and wail of the mourning sea filled the silence that stretched between us. It would drive me mad, in time; it had already begun. I knew it, the day I raved at the warden's refusal. But at least that madness would claim only me, and I would remain true to myself to the end. Melisande's way ... that was another matter. If I gambled and lost, I betrayed a great deal more.
    Torn between terror and longing, I gave a despairing laugh. "My lady, I am destroyed either way. Will you make me choose?"
    "Destroyed?" She raised her eyebrows. "You do me an injustice, I think."
    "No," I said. "There is Ti-Philippe. And Joscelin."
    "You really do love him," Melisande said curiously. I looked away, heard her laugh. "Cassiel's servant. A fitting torment, for Kushiel's chosen, and Naamah's ... did he truly flee your charms?"
    "Yes," I whispered.
    "Ah, but you can guess where he fled. Phèdre." Her voice turned my head. There was pity and inexorable cruelty in her gaze. "Either way, he is gone. What does it merit, this blind and unthinking loyalty?" she asked gently. "To your Cassiline, who left you; to Ysandre de la Courcel, who used you at her need. It is all the same to Elua and his Companions, who sits the throne of Terre d'Ange. Tell me, do you believe I would make so poor a sovereign?"
    "No," I murmured, surprising us both with the truth. "What you do, my lady, you make a habit of doing very well. I do not doubt that once you had the throne, you would rule with strength and cunning. But I cannot countenance the means."
    "Phèdre." My name, only; Melisande spoke it as if to place a finger on my soul, soft and commanding. "Come here." She crossed to stand before me, extending her hand, and I took it unthinking, rising obediently with instincts bred into my very fiber, trained into me since I was four years old. With nothing but the force of her will and the deadly allure of her beauty, Melisande held me captive and trembling before her, cupping my face in both hands. "Why do you struggle against your own desire? Blessed Elua himself bid us, love as thou wilt.”
    If there had been somewhere to flee, I would have. If I could have fought her, I would have. There wasn't, and I couldn't. I couldn't even answer. Her scent made my head spin.
    I stood, stock-still and obedient, my heart beating too quick, too rapid.
    So close, so beautiful.
    So dangerous.
    Melisande lowered her head and