Kushiel's Chosen

smiling pleasantly, "have you heard from my cousin?"
    I smiled back at him, my movements flowing effortlessly with his. "It is strange you should ask, my lord; I was wondering the same about you."
    Marmion Shahrizai bent his head tenderly beside mine. "If I heard from Melisande," he murmured in my ear, "the message would likely be delivered at knife-point. But I have been thinking, little Comtesse." He held me at arm's length as we executed a complex series of steps, then drew me in close again as the music slowed. "Someone reached the postern gate unchallenged at Troyes-le-Mont, yes? And who was better trusted and less feared than the Queen's pet anguissette." His expression never changed, smiling down at me. Only I would have caught the cruelty in it. "You have been in league with my cousin from the first, Comtesse; do not think I am blind to it. I assure you," he whispered, his grip tightening on my hand, "I am watching."
    It brought me hard against him, my loins pressed firm against his, my breasts brushing his chest, I craned my neck back to gaze at his implacable, smiling star-masked face. "Do you pretend loyalty to the Queen, my lord Shahrizai?" I asked him breathlessly, struggling to match his composure. "I hear you set the fire that killed your sister, lest she reveal the complicity with which you betrayed her."
    Marmion's smile hardened and his hand splayed on my back, pressing me harder against him. I could feel his fingertips digging into my flesh, and beneath his breeches, his phallus rising, rigid and pressing against me. His other hand clenched hard on mine, grinding the small bones together. "Do you?" he asked. "I hear a great many things about you, too, Comtesse. I trust not all are slanderous lies, as is this thing you have heard."
    Kushiel's Dart strikes where it will; my body betrayed me, yearning toward his. He danced with consummate grace, and no one but I knew that his hips moved with the subtlety of a skilled tribadist, moving against me as his iron grip held me in place. I fought unsuccessfully against the flutter in my loins, the surging warmth. "Lord Shahrizai," I said, my voice taut, "I beg you release me."
    "Will you make a scene?" He smiled remorselessly; my left hand was numb from his grip and I moved helplessly against him, rippling with desire. "Or give your signale, perhaps, anguissette? I know all about you, and I am watching. Understand that nothing will come between me and the Queen; not some tattooed barbarian princeling, not my cousin and, surely, not you!"
    The musicians ended their air with a flourish, hiding my gasp as Marmion Shahrizai released me, nigh on the verge of climax. He gazed down at me superciliously from behind his mask. "When you think to cross me, little anguissette," he said with amused contempt, "I pray you remember this dance."
    "My lord," I said, drawing myself up with difficulty. "The Aeolian harp sounds at each passing breeze, but that does not mean the tune is masterfully played."
    A moment's pause, and then he gave a cynical laugh and bowed. "You put a good face on it, anguissette. I should expect nothing less from one of Melisande's creatures, and you are an exceptional one at that." He touched my face lightly in warning. "I have said it once; do not make me say it twice. Whatever game you play, keep it far from me.”
    As I watched him take his leave, Fortun made his way to my side once more. "My lady," he asked anxiously, "do you wish me to speak to him?"
    "No," I murmured, watching the candlelight diffuse in a thousand shifting points from the Shahrizai's mirrored coat. "Either he's a fool, to overplay his hand thus, or he's more subtle than I credited, to make me think as much. And I rather doubt it is the latter. Let us keep our eye on Lord Marmion Shahrizai, to see what else he may reveal. But for now, I think we must seek our traitor elsewhere." I sighed, my body throbbing with desire unfulfilled. "Fortun, if you care for me, stay at my side the remainder of this Longest Night, and see that I do naught I will regret come dawn."
    "I promise," he vowed stoutly.
    Somewhat to my dismay, he did.

THIRTEEN
    Elua have mercy!" Gemma entered the sitting room staggering under the weight of the parcels and letters she bore. "My lady, how many more ... oh!" A neatly ribboned missive dangling a small, stoppered bottle slid from her grasp and struck the floor. The spicy scent of cloves filled the air as the wax seal cracked and oil leaked from the