Kushiel's Chosen

into his household, and it is his title that I inherited. We are no kin, you and I."
    "That's a relief." He tugged harder at his collar, scowling. "Damn nigh every noble I've met claims kinship to the throne one way or another. I can't keep it all straight in my head."
    "It is not easy, cousin," Bernadette commiserated kindly. "I grow confused myself, trying to sort out the tangled threads of Blessed Elua's descendants."
    Severio Stregazza gave her an ungracious glance. I could not blame him for his anger and discomfort, in truth; in this, of all gatherings, his coarse curls and the ruder cast of his features showed clearly the dilution of Elua's lineage, brought to La Serenissima in the person of Benedicte de la Courcel, great-uncle to Ysandre. "Your inheritance seems clear enough, cousin."
    "Looks can be deceiving." Ghislain slid his arm protectively about her. Although he remained calm, one could tell he was heated; a scent of apples hung in the air, hallmark of House Somerville, scions of Anael's lineage. "My wife has known betrayal and exile, Prince Severio, and the sovereignty of our duchy hangs on our offspring. I daresay you cannot claim the same."
    "Blood tells, though, here." Severio shrugged. "Scions of Elua and his Companions!" He made a mockery of the words. "It means nothing, in La Serenissima. You can't know what it's like."
    "Perhaps you will tell us, my lord," I offered.
    "And will you pretend interest, for a price?" Harsh-voiced, Severio caught my wrist and gripped it hard, leering. "I have heard, Comtesse, whom you have sworn to serve! In La Serenissima, we keep our courtesans in their proper place, where they belong."
    His grip pained me, and in the roughness of his hands, I felt his anger and frustration commingled, his need to strike out at all things D'Angeline and their attitude of implicit superiority toward all that was not. My blood beat quicker, responding to his anger, and I held his gaze steadily through the haze of my veil. "I serve Naamah, my lord, it is true. And for a price, I will pretend absolutely nothing."
    There was a little silence around us; Gaspar, Ghislain and Bernadette, I daresay, did not know what transpired. But I knew, and the young Stregazza. If I have one pride in my calling, it is that I have never judged a patron wrongly-and I have never failed to recognize a patron upon meeting, Severio Stregazza was one of mine. After a moment, he released my wrist with a disgusted sound.
    "I need a glass of cordial," he said, dismissing himself rudely.
    Gaspar Trevalion stared after him. "What a strange young man," he observed. "Phèdre, what on earth is your interest in him?”
    I could not explain to him the compulsions of an anguissette, and of a surety, I dared not discuss my suspicions concerning Melisande Shahrizai and the deadly coils of intrigue within the Stregazza family. Instead, I smiled. "I have a fancy," I said lightly, "to learn somewhat of La Serenissima. Surely he can tell me that much, at least."
    "If you say so," Gaspar said slowly, eyeing me doubtfully.
    What I would have said to allay his suspicions, I do not know; Gaspar Trevalion had been one of Delaunay's closest friends, and he was no fool. But happily, at that moment, a woman's hand touched my bare shoulder, and I turned in answer to see a drunken couple clad as Diana and Apollo, the twin moon-and-sun deities of the Hellenes.
    "Tell me, Servant of Naamah," the woman said laughing, her silver mask askew on her lovely face, "Who does your costume represent? We have a bet, my brother and I."
    I inclined my head to them, raising my arms so the scarlet ribbons trailed from my wrists. "Mara, my lady; Naamah's daughter, and Kushiel's handmaiden."
    "I told you!" he said to her in drunken triumph.
    The woman laughed again, brushing my veil with her fingertips. She was close enough that I could feel the heat of her body and smell joie sweet on her breath. "Then I shall have to pay the penalty for losing," she whispered. "We already agreed upon the settlement. When you receive my proposal, remember there is a debt of honor at stake."
    "My lady," I said, struggling against dizziness. "I will remember it."
    They laughed and moved on. Gaspar Trevalion in his Eremite's costume shook his mock-bearded head at me. "Delaunay would be proud," he said wryly. "I think."
    "Mayhap." Would that Mara's accoutrements included a fan, I thought; I could use a cool breeze. "My lord, the Serenissiman has the right of it, and there is