Kushiel's Chosen

bestirring himself.
    "Your grace," I murmured, curtsying and wondering how long he had been there and how much he had heard. "It is a pleasure to see you once more. I think often on my debt to you." It had to be said, even if it took me back to the field of Troyes-le-Mont. I could not forget that, either. How I had swayed, on my knees, blood-soaked and awaiting death, gazing at the terrible love in Joscelin's eyes as he broke away from Selig's men to perform the terminus that would end both our lives mercifully. How that look had changed as he saw the portcullis raising beyond me, and Barquiel L'Envers and his Akkadian horsemen racing out to attempt a wildly daring rescue.
    "Save it for your patrons," L'Envers said. "You've made quite an impression on the young Stregazza, I hear, Phèdre. He was even gracious enough to allow the possibility of peace between our Houses, for all that his kin murdered my sister. Gracious, indeed. How do you think your lord Delaunay would like this day's work?"
    "I don't know, my lord." I tried to read him, and failed. Barquiel L'Envers smiled at me, revealing even white teeth. His pale blond hair was cropped short as ever, defying fashion for D'Angeline noblemen, and his eyes were the same dark violet as Ysandre's.
    "Neither do I," he said pleasantly. "On the one hand, the Stregazza disposed of his nemesis in the form of my sister Isabel; on the other, they posed the greatest threat to his sworn charge, his darling Rolande's Ysandre. It must have galled him dreadfully to turn to me to set the balance aright."
    "If it did, he never said so."
    "And now we are all in bed together, so to speak." Barquiel flashed another grin at me. "Some of us more so than others. Ah, poor Anafiel! I do wonder what he would have thought."
    "So do I, my lord." In the face of his prodding, I drew on the dignity of my grief, thinking with sorrow of my lord Delaunay. "I wonder it every day."
    "Well, we'll never know, will we?" Shrugging, the Duc straightened. "Come here, Phèdre no Delaunay; I've someone you should meet."
    Obediently, I followed him through the salon to Ysandre's side, where a small knot of folk were gathered. The bronze-haired young woman I had seen earlier turned, giving him the kiss of greeting as if it had been days, and not minutes, since she had seen him. Scarce taller than I, she was some five years older and very beautiful.
    "Cousin Barquiel," she said in a naturally sultry voice, linking her arm with his and looking at me with interest. "Who have you brought me?"
    Barquiel L'Envers favored me with his white smile, gazing down at me with those lovely violet eyes; like the Queen's, like the woman whose fingers wrapped familiarly around his arm. "Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève," he said, sounding amused. "Nicola L'Envers y Aragon."
    I made a curtsy without thinking, the response automatic upon hearing the names of two of the Great Houses of Terre d'Ange and Aragonia jointly linked.
    "Impressive, isn't it?" Nicola had the same unreadable smile as the Duc. "Too bad my husband is a minor lordling, and a drunkard at that. But one does what one can for one's House, even if one is a minor offshoot." Releasing Barquiel's arm, she took a step toward me, standing a little closer than courtesy dictated. I felt the familiar dizziness of being in the presence of a patron, and her violet gaze held awareness of it. "Still," she said softly, "I think I might haY6 an interesting time here at court, should I choose to stay a while." Patting my cheek, she moved away in Ysandre's direction.
    I watched as Marmion Shahrizai struggled to choose between entertaining the Queen, and engaging the interest of this new-found cousin Nicola, who treated him so coolly. No mistake about it, what I had seen during the concert. She was playing him, and playing him well. I turned to look at Barquiel L'Envers.
    "What can I say?" He smiled and shrugged, opening his arms. "House L'Envers is an ambitious one, and I made a bad marriage for Nicola some years ago. It gained me ties to the House of Aragon, but she's not prospered by it. Her husband is a fool. Who can blame her, if she wishes to try her luck at home now that Ysandre is Queen?"
    The first and greatest lesson we learn in Cereus House is silence. I looked at Barquiel L'Envers and did not answer, until his smile faltered.
    "Anafiel Delaunay didn't do you any favors when he trained you to spy, little anguissette," he said in a low voice, and no one would mistake him