Kushiel's Chosen

contracted a kitchen-mistress," Remy said anxiously, "and a day-maid. There's a lad to help with the stables, and I reckon between the three ... four of us ..." he shot a glance at Joscelin, "... we can do what else needs doing. Will it suit, my lady?"
    I stood in the entry, where the winter light filtered cool and green through the hardy vines. "It will suit," I said, catching my breath in a laugh. "It will suit most admirably, chevalier!"
    Thus did I take up residence as the Comtesse de Montrève in the City of Elua.
    My first invitation arrived before I'd scarce gotten settled; no surprise, for I'd written to Cecilie in advance that I was returning. We had maintained a steady correspondence during my time at Montrève, for in addition to being one of my oldest acquaintances-and one of the few I trusted nearly as much as I did Joscelin-she was a delightful correspondent, her letters laden with bits of news and gossip that I relished to no end. I accepted her invitation at once.
    "Phèdre." Meeting me at her door, Cecilie Laveau-Perrin enfolded me unhesitatingly in a warm embrace that I returned without reserve. Her light-blue eyes, set in a face no less beautiful for encroaching age, glowed as she held me at arm's length. "You look well. Country living must suit you." Smiling, she gave Joscelin the kiss of greeting. "And Joscelin Verreuil! I am still jealous of Cassiel's claim upon you."
    Joscelin flushed to the roots of his hair and murmured something in reply; he had been more gracious, the last time. "With your permission," he said stiffly to me, "I'll see if I can find the scholars' hall that Seth ben Yavin spoke of, and return for you in a few hours' time. I'm sure you and the Lady Cecilie have much to discuss."
    "As you wish." It was awkward, this formality between us; I could have bitten my tongue at the tone of my voice, though it was no cooler than his.
    Cecilie raised her eyebrows, but said nothing until we were seated in her lesser parlour, the cozily appointed room where she received her intimate friends. A maidservant poured wine and brought a tray of delicacies, withdrawing with the immaculate discretion of one trained to serve an adept of Cereus House. "So did the strain of your star-crossed union prove too great, my dear?" she asked then, kindly.
    "Not in Montrève, no." I shook my head and took a sip of wine, then drew a deep breath. "I am returning to the Service of Naamah."
    "Ah." Cecilie rested her chin on her fingertips, regarding me. "And Messire Joscelin grieves. Well, I did not think Naamah had done with you, Phèdre," she said, surprising me. "You were born to be one of the great ones, not to waste your youth on sheep-shearings and barn dances. How old are you? Twenty?"
    'Twenty-two." A touch of indignation in my tone made her smile.
    "You see? Scarce out of girlhood." She toyed with a strand of pearls, but her pale blue eyes were shrewd. "Although I'll allow that you've seen and done things no Night Court adept could survive. Still, in ten years, you might come into your prime. Is it only that, my dear, or is it Anafiel Delaunay's game you seek to play?"
    I should have known she would suspect it. Cècilie had
    been the one to train us, Alcuin and me, in the arts of love; she had also been one of the few who knew what Delaunay was about. For a brief moment, I considered confiding in her. I trusted her discretion. But it would worry her; and it could endanger her, too. And unlike Joscelin and my chevaliers, Cecilie was no warrior sworn to my protection, skilled in the arts of defense. It cast Delaunay's dilemma in a different light, and for the first time I sympathized with his desire to shield me in ignorance.
    "I'm sworn to Naamah, and not to House Courcel," I said lightly. "Unlike my lord Delaunay. But you may be sure, I've not forgotten what I learned in his service. I will keep my ears open and my wits about me. If I learn aught that Ysandre should know ..." I shrugged. "So much the better."
    Not entirely convinced, Cecilie leveled her gaze at me. "Be careful, Phèdre."
    As an adept of Cereus House, she had cause to know. In the Thirteen Houses of the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers, Naamah's Service was an item of faith. As Naamah had lain down with strangers on blessed Elua's behalf, so did we; but we were mortal, and where power intersects with pleasure, there is danger. Adepts of the Night Court dabbled with great caution in political intrigue. As a peer of the realm, I risked all