Kushiel's Chosen

away the scarlet haze that threatened my vision, I accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant, sipping it to calm my nerves. I nearly missed seeing Severio coming to intercept me, his face lit with pleasure.
    "Comtesse de Montrève," he said with elaborate formality, bowing; his dark eyes danced as he straightened. "I stand indebted to your wisdom!"
    The memory of Troyes-le-Mont faded; I collected myself and returned his smile. "It worked, then?"
    "Every bit as you said it would." Severio laughed. "It is a different land, this Terre d'Ange! I am grateful to you for playing guide in it, as well as ... other things."
    "As for those, my lord magistrate," I said teasingly, "I am equally grateful to you, and we owe thanks to Naamah, if anyone, for the diverse gifts she shares with lovers."
    "So you say, here." He took my hands. "In La Serenissima, we do not speak of such pleasures. Truly, I thought my spirit malformed, for entertaining such desires. For that alone, I am grateful-" Severio broke off his sentence mid-thought, gazing over my shoulder. "I wish he wouldn't look at me like that," he said, annoyed.
    I turned and looked to see Marmion Shahrizai staring at us, a sickly cast to his ivory skin. He gave an ironic smile and moved onward, but not before I caught the look in his eyes. It was fear. "You mean Lord Shahrizai?" I asked, keeping my tone light.
    "Oh, he's always about the Queen. I played batarde with him the other day, in the Hall of Games," Severio said, frowning. "When I made an outrageous bluff, he said the strangest thing ... what was it? 'If she's sent you to threaten me, tell her I'm not frightened.' When I asked him what he meant, he brushed it off. What on earth did he mean by it?"
    I swear, my heart skipped a beat, and when it resumed, it pounded at double time. "Oh, it was rumored that his cousin Melisande was in La Serenissima, under the protection of the Doge," I said casually, horribly aware of the risk I was taking. It wasn't rumored, not in the slightest. The only incident to even hint at such a thing was a parcel that had made its way to my doorstep, in Montrève. "So it is not so, then?”
    "If it is, I've never heard of her." Severio shrugged. "It could be. I don't know the name of every D'Angeline noble to seek refuge in La Serenissima's arms."
    "You would know this one, my lord," I said conservatively. "She resembles Lord Marmion, insofar as the sun resembles a star. And if Prince Benedicte caught word of her presence, he would surely have her extradited, for she stands condemned of treason in Terre d'Ange. It was Lord Marmion betrayed her unto the Queen's justice."
    "Ah." Severio nodded understanding; he had, it seemed, a fair grasp of internecine intrigue. "Well, I understand his fear, then, but his suspicions are misplaced. If his cousin is in La Serenissima, it's naught to do with me. Nor, I think, my grandfather the Doge. He is too canny to risk displeasing the D'Angeline Queen."
    "Doubtless you are right," I said automatically, watching Marmion make his way to Ysandre's side. He knew Melisande was in La Serenissima! And he lived in fear of her retribution. It had been no act, that night at the Midwinter Masque; he truly suspected me of being in league with her. Marmion was playing a guessing game, the same as I. Wherever she was, it had somewhat to do with the Stregazza. Not Severio; I'd no doubt his ignorance was genuine. I'd seen him reveal his innermost self, and he didn't dissemble well enough to play the innocent. But Marmion didn't know that.
    Who, then? Lost in thought, I bit my lip and wondered.
    "I must greet his grace the Duc de Somerville," Severio observed, pulling a face. "I am charged by my mother on behalf of Prince Benedicte to thank him for the company of D'Angeline guardsmen he sent to attend the Little Court. It seems my maternal grandfather grows chary of protecting his pure-blooded heir." He gave me another bow. "Phèdre, may I call upon you before I must needs return home? Just to converse," he added with a self-conscious laugh. "I have come in these few days to hold a great regard for your advice. Truly, it would please me."
    "You would honor my household," I said, smiling at him and curtsying. "Now go forth and be politic, Prince Severio."
    He laughed delightedly at that, kissing my hands before taking his leave.
    "You must be considerably pleased with yourself." Leaning against a column, Barquiel L'Envers pitched his voice to reach my ears without