Kushiel's Chosen

and Demetrios watched me with his shrewd, wry gaze while Timanthes made pleasant conversation, neither of them deceived by my motives.
    And thus did the evening pass, until it was time to leave.
    "You have a courtier's skills, my lady," Demetrios Asterius said to me, cupping his hands about my face as we lingered outside Althaia's quarters, his servants and Timanthes waiting patiently. I stood quiet under his touch. "It is as well, I suppose." He raised his dark eyes to Timanthes'. "Will you see her back to her apartment?"
    "Of course."
    "Good." Demetrios sighed. "Then, Phèdre, I bid you farewell tonight as a man, since tomorrow I must be a ruler," he said, and lowering his head, kissed me. His lips were warm and soft and he kissed with the skill of long practice. A shiver of pleasure ran through me, and Demetrios dropped his hands, almost pushing me away. "Go on, little painbearer," he said in a rough-edged voice. "You've given me an ache I'll remember, surely enough."
    "I'm sorry, my lord." My own voice came a little fast.
    "Don't be. I'll remember it with pleasure." Gathering himself, the Archon grinned. "Timanthes, escort our guest to her quarters, but do not think on dalliance. There are things our friendship cannot endure, and this may be one of them."
    "If it can survive my sister, it can survive anything," Timanthes replied, unperturbed.

SIXTY-FOUR
    In the morning, Demetrios Asterius received us once more, and true to his word, he was every inch the Archon, no trace anywhere in his demeanor of yesterday's wrestler or drinking companion.
    I was reunited with Kazan in the antechamber, and found myself passing glad to see him. We had been through a great deal together, he and I, enough so that he represented the comfort of the familiar. He had spent some of the ransom money on clothing and a visit to the barber, and looked rather more presentable, if no less fiercesome; his black hair gleamed in its long topknot, and his mustaches were waxed to points, the narrow strip of beard shaved with precision. "It is not for this petty king, eh," he said scornfully when I remarked on his garb. "But I will sail this day, for your people or mine, I, and for that I will not set forth in rags."
    We did not have long to wait before we were summoned, and the atmosphere in the throne room was somber.
    "Comtesse Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève of Terre d'Ange." Demetrios acknowledged me in steady tones. "You have laid a heavy request upon us. Two boons, you have asked; one, I will grant." He touched his fingertips together. "I pray you understand, if it were a matter of sympathy only, I would willingly grant both. But to escort you to La Serenissima..." He shook his head. "This I will not do. Whether the Serenissimans are right or wrong in seeking your death, to defy them thusly at their own gates is an open act of hostility. And if you fail in any part, Phèdre nó Delaunay, I will have earned Kriti-and indeed, all of Hellas-a powerful enemy. Nay, not one, but two, for if I understand matters aright, if you fail, the D'Angeline throne falls to this Benedicte de la Courcel, who stands in alliance with the Stregazza. Is it not so?"
    "Yes, my lord Archon," I murmured. "It is so."
    "I am sorry." His dark eyes were compassionate. "You asked a courier be sent to Marsilikos, and it shall be so. Anywhere else on the face of the earth you wish to go, I will send you. But I cannot risk exposing Kriti to the united wrath of La Serenissima and Terre d'Ange, no matter what rewards the risk may pay if you succeed. To rule wisely, one must weigh all options. There is no gain here that is worth the price of failure. Can you understand this?"
    "Yes." I swallowed, and bowed my head. 'Twas no more than I had expected, but disheartening nonetheless. "I understand, my lord Archon."
    "Do you weigh your own options, Phèdre," he said gently, "you may find it is much the same. If what you tell me is true, your chance of succeeding in La Serenissima is slim. Capture or death are likely, if not certain. You have done all that you might and more, though the hand of fate has been raised against you at every turn. Listen well, then, and heed my advice. A courier is no certain thing, my dear, and a message in a stranger's hand too easily ignored. Do not send word to Marsilikos, but go, bear word yourself, and rouse those allies you trust, secure the throne against betrayal abroad. Your Queen's life may be forfeit for it, yes, but you have the surety of