Kushiel's Dart

Delaunay could speak. "There is a score to be settled. Do you deny I have the right to be there, my lord?" he asked coolly.
    He wanted to, I could tell; but it was not in him to deny Alcuin this last ounce of pride. "Very well." He gave a brief nod, then looked back at me. "No. Don't even say it."
    "My lord." I lifted my chin and gambled. "I have risked as much as anyone to gain you this audience. If you would jeopardize it by going without me, do not think to find me here when you return."
    Delaunay took a step in my direction and lowered his voice. "And do not think I will fail to do as I have threatened."
    It was hard to look him in the eyes, but I did. "Will you, my lord?" I swallowed, then pressed onward. "To whom? Melisande Shahrizai, perhaps, who would use me as I've been trained in a game even you cannot guess at?"
    "Agh!" Delaunay threw up his arms in disgust. Behind him, I could see bemusement on the Captain of the Guard's face. "I taught you too well by half," he snapped at me. "I should have known better than to buy the marque of someone who enjoys risking her life!" He turned to Joscelin, hovering in the entryway. "You'll come too, then, Cassiline, and ward them both well. By Cassiel's Dagger, it's on your head if you don't keep them alive!"
    Joscelin made his impassive bow, but I saw a hint of apprehension nicker in his blue eyes. Still, I had to admit, he made for an impressive companion; the L'Envers Captain took a startled step backward when he emerged.
    The team was hitched to the coach and Alcuin's horse saddled for Joscelin in short order, and we were under way, our breath rising in clouds of frost in the chill morning air. The purple-and-gold L'Envers standard rose above our small party, and the gleaming mail the men-at-arms wore gave us a martially festive air-I was naive enough, then, to find it thrilling. Besides, four or five of the men, I was sure, were not D'Angeline. They rode with a particularly wary air about them, and dark burnouses wrapped their heads and swathed their faces. The Khalif of Khebbel-im-Akkad had given L'Envers land and horses and men; I was willing to bet these riders were Akkadian.
    The Due L'Envers' country estate was surprisingly charming. I had never been to a country estate save Perrinwolde, but this was no working manor. We crossed a small river-the arched bridge echoed the design on L'Envers' arms-and rode through fanciful grounds, where gardeners labored over all manner of imported trees, binding them with burlap against the cold.
    Still, we were seen from the parapets of the modest chateau, there was no doubt of that. The standard-bearer rode a little ahead and hefted the banner three times; there was an answering flash from atop the walls, and the gate was raised to admit us into the courtyard. And if we were politely received, we were nonetheless conducted by our full escort into the Due's receiving room.
    The room was beautifully appointed with Akkadian tapestries and furniture of unusual design, low and cushioned. One chair, with carving elaborate enough for a throne, was clearly the Due's, but it stood empty. One of the men-at-arms-one of those I guessed to be Akkadian-left, while the Captain and the others lined the walls and stood at attention. I watched Delaunay, taking my cue from him. He was calm and watchful, betraying no sign of unease. It heartened me to see it. In a few moments, we heard the sound of booted strides in the hallway, and the Due L'Envers entered the room.
    Though I'd never seen him, I'd no doubt who it was; his men made him instantaneous bows, and Delaunay and the three of us followed suit.
    To my surprise, when I straightened from my deep curtsy, I saw that the Due himself was dressed in Akkadian style. A burnouse of L'Envers purple shrouded his face, and instead of a doublet, he wore loose robes over his breeches, with a long, flowing coat. Only his eyes were visible, but I knew them, once I had the chance to look him full in the face. They were a deep violet, House L'Envers' coloring; the color of Ysandre de la Courcel's eyes, who was his niece.
    "Anafiel Delaunay," the Due drawled, taking his seat and unwinding the long scarf of his burnouse. He had the white-blond hair, too, and pale skin, though it was sun-darkened around his eyes and his hair was cropped shorter than I'd ever seen a nobleman's. "Well, well. So you've come to apologize for your sins against my House?"
    Delaunay stepped forward and gave another bow. "Your grace,"