Kushiel's Chosen

around him, assuring myself that he was alive and whole; and so he was, save for a few minor wounds about the arms. He laughed at my onslaught, holding me off only long enough to kiss me.
    "You make a dramatic entrance, near-cousin," the Queen of Terre d'Ange said wryly.

    "Oh, Phèdre, get up." There was a familiar impatience in Ysandre's voice; only a trace. "I'm sorry I doubted you. You were right, and more, and we will speak of it at length later. Come, you have earned the right to bear witness to this encounter."
    I would rather not have gone, but one does not refuse an order from one's sovereign. The throng of Serenissiman nobles and guardsmen parted as Ysandre de la Courcel made her way to her kinsman's side, and even the Doge fell silent. My struggle lay with Melisande, always Melisande; I had nearly forgotten that Benedicte de la Courcel was Ysandre's great-uncle, her nearest living kin on her royal father's side.
    She took his betrayal hard.
    "Why?" Ysandre asked, disregarding Melisande to kneel beside him. "Why have you done this thing, Uncle?"
    Benedicte's eyes rolled in his head; his lined features worked, a bloody froth appearing at the corners of his mouth. They had laid him on a cloak of cloth-of-gold, and he was not long for this world. His roving eye fell on Severio Stregazza, standing close at hand, and contempt suffused his face. "Barbarian ... blood ... tainting Elua's line," he spat. "Bad enough here ... there ... blue-painted barbarian Pícti in your bed ..."
    It was enough; Ysandre straightened even as he seized convulsively, her face hardening. "Tend to him," she said sharply to the Eisandine chirurgeon who travelled with her. "If he lives, he will face our justice." Her gaze fell on Melisande, who had drawn back her veil at last. For a long moment, neither spoke. "Your life," Ysandre said at length, expressionless, "is already forfeit. As for your son ..." She paused. "As for your son, I will adopt him into my household, and raise him as a member of my own."
    "Mayhap," Melisande said calmly.
    I laughed; I couldn't help it, a short, choked laugh. And Melisande Shahrizai turned her glorious, unveiled gaze on me, raising her graceful eyebrows. "My lady," I said to her, filled with sorrow and impotent rage at the lives lost, the prices paid, echoing the words she had spoken to me in the throne room of the Little Court. "We played a game. You lost."
    In the silence of the watching Temple, Melisande smiled coolly at me. With Ysandre confronting her, with all of La Serenissima watching, with Marco betraying her and Benedicte dying, Melisande Shahrizai made her reply with icy precision.
    "I'm not finished."
    That was when the bells began to ring.

SEVENTY-SIX
    1 hings moved very swiftly.
    I knew, of course; I had to know. 'Twas one of the few things Melisande had divulged to me in my dreadful cell on La Dolorosa. Four couriers on fast horses will depart La Serenissima the instant the bell tower in the Great Square tolls Ysandre's death . . .
    To his credit, the Doge responded with shrewd celerity, ordering the bells silenced at once and dispatching the civil guard to the mainland to halt the couriers' flight. Though we learned it later I daresay all of us knew it was already too late. In truth, he could have done no more. Melisande laid her plans with skill. It had been too late when the first bell pealed.
    Four couriers, with fresh horses on relay all the way to the City of Elua, bearing the spark of war. Ysandre heard my news unflinching; at that point, she was inured to shock.
    "So Percy de Somerville will take the City," was all she said.
    "Mayhap." I said, glancing at Melisande. "And mayhap not, my lady." I thought of my own countermove, my Kritian missive, yet to play out, and kept silence for now.
    "My dear Queen," Cesare Stregazza offered. "I am grievous sorry at what has befallen here. What may be done to punish those responsible .. ." his quavering voice hardened, ".... will be done, though my own son pay the price for it."
    "I ask only those born to Terre d'Ange for my justice," Ysandre said grimly. "And the woman Melisande Shahrizai in particular."
    "It shall be done," the Doge promised.
    Melisande's cool defiance had altered not a whit. "And will you violate the sanctuary of Asherat-of-the-Sea, your grace?" she asked him, lifting her chin and regarding him. "For such has been granted to me."
    Someone swore; later, I learned it was Lord Amaury Trente, who served as Ysandre's Commander of