Kushiel's Dart

recognized. "So it would seem. I've seen you before, haven't I? You offered Baudoin de Trevalion joie , the night of the Midwinterfest." He released my arm, which felt as if it still bore the impress of his fingers. His gaze glittered at me like ice over black rock. "Well, keep Naamah's silence and take care you don't bring me the same luck, little adept, for I'm about Camael's business."
    "Yes, my lord." I curtsied again, truly frightened, and thankful for once that a peer of the realm had no cause to recognize me as Delaunay's anguissette . They continued onward, his companion-the Comte de Villiers, I guessed-casting one quick glance back at me. Then they were gone.
    Had I not been lost, I might have been shaken enough to abandon my plan, but as it was, I'd no choice but to make my way to the west wing. By the time I arrived, my nerves had settled and curiosity had the uppermost.
    One thing, however, I had forgotten; this was the Palace, and members of the King's Guard stood at every entrance to the theatre, standing firm with spears upright. Beyond their reach, I gazed into the darkened theatre and saw the players onstage, lit by an ingenious system of torches and lamps, but I couldn't make out faces in the audience. Still, I could see the royal box, and it was empty. Disappointed, I turned to make my way to the western doors exiting the Palace.
    I was just in time to see Delaunay emerging from the theatre, glancing at a note in his hand.
    If I went forward, he would see me. Thinking quickly, I took off my sangoire cloak and folded it over my arm, walking purposefully around toward the rear of the theatre. If its design was anything like the other, I could hide in the players' quarters, for I didn't like to think on Delaunay's anger if he caught me at this. I'd sooner take my chances with Isidore d'Aiglemort, if it came to it.
    As luck would have it, I guessed aright, and found the first chamber of the players' dressing rooms to be open and untenanted, save for the now-familiar heaped disarray of props and garments. Beyond the next door, I could hear an urgent commotion, but it seemed this room was far enough from the stage to go unused during the performance. Indeed, the quarters were likely more generous than those to which they were accustomed. This one held a great bronze-framed mirror, taller than I was, which must have come dear. I paused to glance in it and compose my features, when the mirror began to swing open like a door on cunningly hidden hinges.
    Between Delaunay in the hall and whatever lay beyond the mirror, my choices were few. If I hadn't been in the King's own Palace, I'd have trusted Japheth no Eglantine-Vardennes to hide me, but I dared not risk it here. I took the only refuge I could, crawling under a chair heavily draped with clothing. Reaching between the legs of the chair, I dragged a pasteboard shield in front of it. Cramped and confined, I prayed to Elua that it was refuge enough to hide me. There was a gap between the edge of the shield and a trailing gown of tawdry fabric. I reached out to twitch the fabric to cover it, then stayed my hand and peered through it instead.
    The mirror swung outward, giving back a crazily angled reflection of the dressing room. I could see my own hiding place, nothing of my person visible in the gaudily cloth-hung shadow beneath the chair. A woman, tall and slender, slipped into the room. She wore a heavy cloak with a deep hood, rendering her features invisible, but I gauged her to be young by the way she moved as she closed the secret door behind her.
    Anafiel Delaunay entered the chamber.
    I nearly betrayed myself with a gasp, and held my breath to contain it. Delaunay gave the room a careful study, then inclined his head to the hooded woman. "I am here in answer to this message," he said simply, holding it out.
    "Yes." The woman's voice was young, albeit muffled in the depths of her hood. She folded her hands in opposite sleeves, not taking the note from him. "I am ... my lady bids me ask you what news you have of a ... a certain matter."
    "A certain matter," Delaunay echoed. "How may I be sure of who you serve, my lady?"
    From my hiding place, I could discern that her hands were working within the sleeves of her robe. She extended one, briefly, and handed him something that gleamed. It was a gold ring, that much I saw. Delaunay took it, and she withdrew her hand quickly. "Do you know this ring?" she asked.
    Delaunay gazed at it, turning it over and