Kushiel's Dart

have done, truly, if Melisande had bought my marque instead of paying it, if she had never loosed the lead she set upon me? I was sure, very nearly entirely sure, that I had spoken the truth.
    Very nearly. But she had accomplished her intent; I would never be entirely sure of it, not entirely.
    In the end, of course, it didn't matter. What had happened was done, and my choices made. At dawn, Melisande Shahrizai would be no more, condemned to death by accusation. And no one, ever, would be troubled by her again.
    Except for me.
    Such were the thoughts that ran through my mind as I passed the long night's vigil, listening to the quiet stirrings of the sleeping fortress, the murmur of guards, the rattle and stamp of horses in the stable, the occasional creak of a door. These things I heard, and no more.
    Joscelin found me as the skies were turning a dull grey, and I was thinking how I had seen far too many bloody dawns. I was a Servant of Naamah, my daybreaks should be stained with the red blood of the grape, and not mortal flesh.
    "You went to see her," he said in a low voice behind me. I nodded without looking. "Why?"
    "I don't know. I owed her that much, I suppose." I turned around, then, seeing his familiar face sober in the grey light. "Joscelin, there are things I will never be able to forget. And there will be times I need to try."
    "I know," he said gently, coming to stand beside me. "You know that I could never hurt you, even if you asked it of me?"
    "I know." I drew a deep breath and took his arm. An anguissette and a Cassiline; Elua help us. "We've survived thirty thousand Skaldi and the wrath of the Master of the Straits. We ought to be able to survive each other."
    Joscelin laughed softly, and I buried my face in his chest. There was so much between us, and so much that would ever be between us. And yet, I knew, I did not want to be without him.
    We stood like that for a long while, and I felt the long night's dread leave me. The grey skies were paling, the rays of the new sun stealing long and low across the battlements. Soon, it would be done, and over.
    So I was thinking, as the sound of shouting and the rattle of guards running in armor arose.
    Time and enough for the night watch to be relieved; yet I did not remember it happening like this, new guards taking over stern-faced, a harried commander interrogating the members of the night watch, who were all shaking heads and urgent denial.
    "What is it?" Joscelin caught at the captain as he passed.
    "They were to execute the Lady Melisande Shahrizai at dawn," he said, his face grim. "She's gone. Two guards dead at her door, and the keeper of the postern gate." Shaking off Joscelin's hand, he added, "Excuse me," and hurried onward.
    Atop the battlements, we stared at one another, and a last desperate laugh caught in my throat worked its way loose. "Melisande," I gasped. "Ah, Elua, no!"
    Ysandre turned the fortress upside down, sent riders in all directions, and had everyone at liberty that night questioned; everyone. She found no trace of Melisande, who had vanished like an apparition. Not even Joscelin was exempted from her interrogation; nor was I. Surely, not I. Ysandre summoned me to the throne room, and I knew what it was like, to stand before her where Melisande had stood.
    "She sent for you that night," Ysandre said, her voice cold and hard as steel. "And you went. Do not deny it, Phedre, we know as much from the hospital wards. Why?"
    I answered her as I had Joscelin, except that I clasped my hands together to hide their shaking. "Your majesty, I owed her that much."
    "Whatever you owed her, the coin she paid was treason." Ysandre's face was implacable. "We do not reckon debts thusly, in Terre d'Ange."
    "She spared my life, once," I whispered. I'd no more kill you than I'd destroy a priceless fresco or a vase . "And I did not. That much, I owed her."
    "And what else?" Ysandre's fair brows raised.
    "Nothing." I raked my hands through my hair and choked on the terrible laughter that still welled inside me. "Your majesty, the only proof of her treason rests on my word. What need had I to save her but remain silent?"
    Ysandre's face changed, turning compassionate; she knew, well enough, the truth of my words. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry, Phedre. But you must understand, while she is free, with allies to aid her, I will never rest easy on my throne."
    "Nor should you." I murmured the words, escorted from the royal presence with considerably more