Kushiel's Chosen

birth, Ysandre de la Courcel. I seek to claim it by right of the wits with which I was born. Even the Doges of La Serenissima can point to the mandate of popular election to justify their power. Do not tell me you do not play my game."
    Ysandre paled; I do not think she had truly crossed wits with Melisande before. Nonetheless, she retained her composure. "I have neither the time nor the will to engage in sophistry. If it was your wish to reform the D'Angeline system of governance, you have gone about it in a passing strange manner. The penalty for what you have done, you know full well. I am offering to spare your son the taint of it and see him raised to the honor that is his due."
    "My wish? No. I merely observe that what we seek is not so different. Now you seek to claim my son for your household." Melisande leaned back against the couch, relaxed. "And what do you offer for him, your majesty? My freedom? The restoration of my titles and estates?"
    The Lady Grosmaine's quill scratched on parchment as she recorded their exchange. Amaury Trente made a noise deep in his throat. "No," Ysandre said finally. "Neither."
    Melisande's brows rose beneath her veil. "No?" she asked, mocking. "You offer... nothing? Then does it surprise you that I offer nothing in response?"
    "Do you care so little for your own flesh and blood?" Ysandre asked harshly. "You are bound here until you leave or die, Melisande Shahrizai, and it is already decreed that those things are one and the same. I will make no bargains with condemned traitors; and yet you are a mother, are you not? To your son, I offer stature, honor in the eyes of the realm, his rightful role at court. Will you damn him to a lifetime as a pawn? Will you hide behind Asherat's altar and watch while he is made a playing piece for lesser hands seeking to seize the same prize you sought?" Her mouth curled in contempt. "Love as thou wilt. The precept of Blessed Elua is lost on one such as you."
    "Do not presume to teach me to love!"
    There was an echo of power in those words, sending a jolt the length of my spine. I took a sharp breath, glad of Joscelin's hand resting on the small of my back, steadying me. I was aware, horribly aware, of the way Melisande's veiled eyes flashed with passion.
    "Do you truly think I would allow you to raise my only child and turn him against me, Queen of Terre d'Ange?" she asked softly, rising from her couch with deadly grace. "No. Oh, no. There has been no animosity between us. I have always understood, if you have not, that we played a game. Do you take my son, we become enemies."
    Ysandre drew back, but did not quail, answering steadily. "You have sought to tear the realm asunder, Melisande Shahrizai. I have always considered you an enemy."
    "Have you?" Melisande gave her a cutting smile. "For two years, I have held your life in my hand. If it was only that I wanted ..." turning her head, she reached out to touch the breast of Ysandre's surviving Cassiline Brother with elegant fingers, "... I could have taken it at any time. But I sought the prize, your throne. And for that, I needed to choose a time when I could control the events that followed." Her smile froze in place. "Believe me, your majesty," she said, "you do not want me to regard you as my enemy."
    The Cassiline, whose name was Brys no Rinforte, breathed hard, hands twitching above his daggers, sweat beading his brow as he struggled to remain impassive. Like Joscelin, he had witnessed one of his Brethren betray his oath in the most incredible fashion, and he knew full well Melisande was the reason, if not the cause.
    "Let him be." Joscelin's sword rang free of its sheath and he pointed it full at her, eyes grim and implacable. "I have faced damnation from more angles than you can number, Kushiel's scion. One more is of no account. Leave be."
    "Cassiline." Melisande regarded him coolly, fingertips still resting on the Brother's heaving chest. "Have you faced the loss of your beloved Phèdre's affection? For surely you will earn it, if you take my life."
    He looked at me; they all looked at me, even the priestesses and attendants, and I could not think for the clamor in my head, the sound of my blood beating in my ears. I pressed my fingers to my temples and shouted, "Sit down!"
    No one sat, but Melisande took a step back and lowered her hand, gesturing for me to speak. Brys no Rinforte exhaled; the Secretary's pen scratched. Ysandre watched without speaking. I looked at Melisande.
    "My