Kushiel's Dart

chance."
    Melisande stooped and picked up the diamond lead that lay between us, dangling it from one hand. "Leaving you the Cassiline was a bit excessive," she agreed, glancing at Joscelin, who stood impassive, eyes blazing. "Although it seems to have agreed with him."
    "Do you dispute this charge?" Ysandre raised her voice, cool and implacable, severing the tension between us. Melisande looked at the diamond in her hand, closing her fist around it, arching her brows.
    "You have proof, I assume, of their story?"
    "I have Palace Guards who will swear they saw them with you the night of Anafiel Delaunay's murder." Ysandre's expression was calm and merciless. "And I believe, my lady Shahrizai, that thirty thousand invading Skaldi attest to the truth of their tale."
    Melisande shrugged. "Then I have no more to say."
    "So be it." Ysandre summoned her guard. "You will be executed at dawn."
    No one, not Trevalion nor L'Envers, not de Morhban nor the assembled peers, and not her Shahrizai kin, heads downcast, spoke in her defense. I watched, trembling, as the Courcel guard surrounded Melisande, escorting her out of the throne room.
    "It's over," Joscelin murmured at my ear. "It's over, Phedre."
    "I know." I touched my throat, where no diamond lay, and wondered why I felt so empty.
    I spent a long time in the hospital wards that day and evening, finding solace in tending to the injured. I'd no medical skills to speak of, although Lelahiah Valais had a shy young student who was kind enough to instruct me in simple matters, changing bandages, and washing fevered wounds with herbal infusions. Mostly, it helped the wounded to see a kind face, to have a listening ear. I had scavenged parchment and ink from the tiny library, some days ago. I took letters for some of them, who had come to realize that they would never see home again.
    A small kindness, but it meant a great deal to the dying. I spent much of my time with the Cruithne and Dalriada, who could not even communicate with the healers who tended them. Drustan had a veritable sheaf of letters already, that he had promised would reach Alban soil, and bards and brehons to read them, if their recipients could not.
    Wise enough in his own way, Joscelin left me be. I do not think he ever understood, truly, what lay between Melisande and I. How could he, when I scarce understood it myself? It would have been simpler, before I dared the crossing of Selig's camp, before the torture. I despised her for what she had done, both to me, and to Terre d'Ange.
    And yet. . .
    Elua knew, I had loved her once.
    It was well into the small hours of the night when the messenger found me. Unsure of his errand, he looked uncomfortable, whispering in the quiet air of the sickroom. "My lady Phedre, I am bid to summon you. The Lady Melisande Shahrizai would speak with you, if you are willing."
    If you ever have a chance to confront her alone, don't take it.
    I did not forget Hyacinthe's words. But I went anyway.
    There were two guards at her door; Ysandre's, and loyal. Even though they knew me, they checked me carefully for weapons before admitting me. It was an irony, that Melisande had a chamber to herself. No one else did, save Ysandre, with the fortress full to overflowing. But she was a peer of the realm, and a scion of Kushiel; she deserved as much, her last night on earth. I wondered who had been displaced, that she might spend it in comfort.
    It was a small chamber, two chairs, a writing table and a bed only. I entered, and heard the door closed behind me, the bolt shot fast.
    Melisande, seated in one of the chairs, glanced up as I entered. "I wasn't sure you'd come," she remarked in greeting, arching her perfect brows. "And without your warder, too."
    "What do you want?" I remained standing.
    She only laughed, that rich laugh that turned my very bones to water; even now, even still. "To see you," she said, then. "Before I die. Is that so much to ask?"
    "From you," I said, "yes."
    "Phedre." Her lips shaped my name, her voice gave it meaning. I caught at the back of the second chair to steady myself, and her eyes watched me, amused. "Do you hate me that much?"
    "Yes," I whispered, willing it to be true. "Why don't you?"
    "Ah, well." Melisande shrugged. "I was careless, and you played the hand I dealt you. Shall I blame you for that? I knew you were Delaunay's creature when I dealt it. It might have been different, if I had claimed you for my own, and not given you leave to choose."
    "No," I