Kushiel's Chosen

of it, I'll have to mete out justice, and there's another blood-feud in the making. It never ends. And the awful irony of it is, Marmion was loyal, after a fashion. 'Twas fear sealed his lips."
    "He did what he did," I said automatically. "Loyalty does not make right of it, nor fear."
    "I know that," Ysandre said impatiently. "Elua! Do you think I wanted to rule as I did? One has no choice, when the law is clear. But I think Marmion spoke the truth nonetheless. Phèdre. I am neither stupid nor blind. Did Persia Shahrizai aid in Melisande's escape?"
    I nodded, slowly.
    "Good." Her voice was hard. "Did she have an ally?"
    I nodded again.
    "Do you know who it was?"
    I shook my head. "No," I whispered.
    "Neither do I." Ysandre gave a short laugh and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Marmion always suspected you, but he wasn't there, when you and that half-mad Cassiline staggered out of the wilds of Skaldia onto my doorstep, while my grandfather lay dying, to give me worse news than I could have dreamt in my darkest nightmares. I gambled everything on your bare word, Phèdre, and rewarded you by sending you into even direr circumstances. I want, very badly, to trust you. And yet I am afraid."
    At that, I fell to my knees and protested my loyalty, tears standing in my eyes. I could not help it, then. What I said, I scarce remember; not everything, but it was a great deal more than I'd intended. Ysandre listened, and gradually a semblance of calm came over her features.
    "You should have told me." It was what she had said to Marmion. I daresay she was right, on both counts. "Why did you tell my uncle instead? I did not think there was much love lost between Barquiel L'Envers and the household of Anafiel Delaunay."
    "It was scarce more than he knew," I murmured. "Nicola already suspected Marmion was responsible for killing his sister. He plays at some game with me; I wanted to see what he would do. I didn't think it would be ... this."
    "My uncle," Ysandre said reflectively, "had, to the best of my knowledge, Dominic Stregazza assassinated on suspicion of killing my mother. He is not a temperate man. Exactly how deep in it is my charming cousin Nicola?"
    "Not very." I shook my head, settling back to sit on my heels. "He uses her as Delaunay used Alcuin and me, only she does it for amusement and money, and the experience of the thing. I don't think Marmion guessed it.”
    "You trust her?"
    I shrugged. "I trust it is no more than that, with her."
    "And my uncle?" When I didn't answer, Ysandre gave me a hard look. "You suspect him, don't you?"
    "My lady." I spread my hands. "Barquiel L'Envers claims to be protecting your interests, and I owe him my life. But it is someone we all trusted." In the distance, but not out of earshot, Ysandre's Cassilines stood on guard, features impassive, at ease in the familiar stance, hands crossed above their dagger-hilts. I thought of saying more, and closed my mouth.
    "Why?" Ysandre asked aloud, frustration in her voice, staring at the portraits of her family line. Rolande, Isabel, Ganelon, Benedicte, Lyonette. House Courcel, in all its tumultuous history, and off to one side, Edmée de Rocaille, who had been caught up in it and died because of it. So had my lord Anafiel Delaunay, keeping a promise. Ysandre was right. It never ended. "Why would anyone who risked their life to save the realm risk everything to betray it?"
    I heard the Marquise Solaine Belfours' voice in my memory. If you think all of Lyonette de Trevalion's secrets died with her, you're twice the fool I reckoned.
    A desecrated ledger in the Royal Archives; a folio perused by unknown eyes. Condemning letters, written to Lyonette de la Courcel de Trevalion. Letters provided by Melisande Shahrizai. When had Melisande ever played the whole of her hand? Never, I thought. Melisande had held somewhat back, and whatever it was, it sufficed for blackmail.
    The more I learned, the less I knew.
    At the far end of the Hall of Portraits, the door opened.
    "Your majesty!" The Captain of the Guard stood bowing in the open doorway. "Forgive my intrusion, but I thought you would wish to know. The outriders from Azzalle have arrived. The flagship of the Cruarch of Alba has been sighted crossing the Straits."
    "Drustan!" Ysandre breathed his name, and her entire countenance lightened, violet eyes fair glowing. For a moment, she looked not like a Queen, but only a young D'Angeline woman in love. "Blessed Elua be thanked." All