Kushiel's Chosen

well.
    Barquiel L'Envers managed to lounge in his stiff chair, stretching his long legs before him. One might take it for irreverence, or not; I never knew with him. He had been a long while posted in Khebbel-im-Akkad, and claimed to prefer its cushioned comforts. For all that, I would never make the mistake of reckoning him soft.
    Beside L'Envers, I was surprised to see Percy de Somerville, the Royal Commander, his son Ghislain and daughter-in-law Bernadette beside him. The last I had known, he had been reviewing the strengths of the border guard in Camlach-the remnants of d'Aiglemort's men who called themselves the Unforgiven. No one had a stronger motive for dedicating themselves to the protection of the Skaldi borders, having once betrayed our nation; but then again, Ysandre was wary enough to keep them under watch.
    If Percy de Somerville had returned, perhaps then so had those men posted on guard the night Melisande escaped from Troyes-le-Mont, I thought hopefully. I would have to dispatch my chevaliers for a scouting expedition to the barracks.
    Less cheering to my eyes was the sight of Marmion Shahrizai in the second row, near enough to the Queen to murmur in her ear, as I saw, twice, he did. There was a youngish woman seated next to him whom I knew not at all; slight, with an upswept mane of bronze-gold curls. She treated Marmion coolly, I saw, but I saw too a faint, amused smile on her face as she watched him address the Queen. Barquiel L'Envers turned once and said somewhat to her, grinning. I thought that she laughed.
    When the concert was done, we applauded politely. The musicians-it had taken three to operate the instrument-bowed, and then the composer and the engineer bowed, and the engineer invited the audience to inspect the instrument. Tibault de Toluard, for all that he must have known it better than any noble there, was first on the dais, his face aglow with pleasure.
    For my part, I mingled among my peers, making pleasant conversation as servants circulated with wine and chilled fruits. I kept my eye on Severio, and marked how he greeted the assembled D'Angeline nobles with unfailing courtesy.
    "Phèdre!" Ghislain de Somerville hailed me cheerfully. "What on earth did you do to that boy?" he asked, laughing. "I swear, you've transformed him! Five days ago, he was scarce fit for polite company; now, he's well-nigh a court darling. How did you do it?"
    "Naamah's Servants keep her secrets," I said, smiling. "I'm pleased to hear it, though. How is your father? He looks well."
    "Hale as ever." Ghislain threw an admiring glance toward his father, a stalwart figure with golden hair turned mostly grey. "He rode the length of Camlach himself, midwinter, to inspect the garrisons there. I hope I've half his stamina at his age."
    "You've his gift of command, my lord," I said. "No doubt you've inherited his constitution as well."
    Ghislain flushed, smelling faintly of apples. "You're kind to say so, but I fear I'm a pale imitation of my father on the battlefield."
    I do not think it was true, although I am no judge; father and son had headed the armies that formed the hammer and anvil between which we caught Selig's forces, enabling the Allies of Camlach to breach their might. Neither would have succeeded alone. Of a surety, Percy's brilliant plan had held the Skaldi at bay long enough for the Alban army to arrive-but without Ghislain's leadership, I daresay we never would have reached Troyes-le-Mont. "Say what you will, my lord," I said diplomatically, "but it is the two strong branches of House Somerville that upheld Terre d'Ange in her direst hour."
    "Well." Ghislain looked gravely at me. "It was a near thing. Do not think I forget, Phèdre, your part in it. I would have tied you to a tree, had I known what was in your mind that night, but if you'd not broken Selig's lines to warn the fortress ..." He shook his head. "You saved a great many lives in that battle, and mayhap our victory in the bargain."
    "Mayhap," I said softly; I do not like to remember that night. If I never have to live through its like again, it will be too soon. I felt the ghost of remembered pain, the delirium of agony as Waldemar Selig's dagger-blade sheared my skin from my flesh, and shuddered. Even I had my limits. "Kushiel's blessing is a dubious gift, my lord. I spent it as I thought best."
    "And I am glad you are here to say it." Smiling, he patted my shoulder-setting off a fresh wave of remembered pain-and left me.
    Blinking