Kushiel's Dart

resting on the hilts of his daggers. I tried to catch his eye, but he gazed straight ahead, scanning the antechamber imperceptibly for danger.
    In a short while, Childric d'Essoms entered with two men-at-arms in attendance, a curious look on his face. Seeing me, he halted. "Phedre. What is it?"
    I rose only to sink into a low curtsy, holding it until he gestured impatiently at me.
    "I've no time for games," he said. "What brings you here? Is it De-launay?"
    "Yes, my lord." I straightened. "May I speak to you in private?"
    D'Essoms glanced at Joscelin, who stood impassively and looked at nothing. D'Essoms' brows rose a fraction. "Yes, I suppose you may. Come with me."
    I followed as he beckoned, and his men stood back and fell in behind me, cutting off Joscelin's route.
    "My lord." The Cassiline Brother's voice was quiet and even, but it held a tone that stopped even d'Essoms in his tracks. He turned around and looked back. Joscelin gave his formal bow. "I have sworn an oath."
    "Oaths." Childric d'Essoms' face twisted at the word. "I suppose you have. Accompany her if you must, Cassiline."
    Another bow-how someone so rigid could make obeisance look as fluid as a river-bend, I will never know-and Joscelin stepped to my side. We retired, the five of us, to d'Essoms' receiving room. He took his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests, waiting, watching me with his hawklike gaze. Knowing better than to presume, I remained standing. His men-at-arms flanked him, hands hovering conspicuously over their sword-hilts.
    "My lord d'Essoms." Uttering the words, I sank down to kneel, abey-ante . It was engrained in me as deeply as Joscelin Verreuil's Cassiline watchfulness. "My lord Delaunay sends me to beg a boon."
    "A boon? Delaunay?" D'Essoms eyebrows rose to full arch, all the more marked by the way his taut braid drew back the dark hair from his face. "What does he want of me?"
    One sentence, and he would know. I clasped my hands together and fought back another shiver, thankful of Joscelin's grey-clad legs behind my back. "He desires a meeting with Due Barquiel L'Envers. He asks that you act as go-between in this matter."
    I looked up, as I said it; I saw d'Essoms' face change. "How does . . .?" he began, puzzled. It changed. "You."
    Childric d'Essoms was trained to arms, and a skilled hunter besides; still, it took me by surprise, how swiftly he moved. It shouldn't have, I'd seen from the first the unerring aim with which he toppled the plastinx in Cecilie Laveau-Perrin's game of kottabos. But I failed to gauge it, and he had me in an instant, back straining beneath his knee, his blade at my throat. I felt it score a fiery line against my skin, and gasped.
    "All this time," d'Essoms hissed, "you have played me false. Well, the King maintains his own justice against treachery, and so do I, Phedre no Delaunay. There is no contract between us now, and no word you may speak to bind me from acting."
    "There is one." From my strained position, I could see Joscelin give his damnable bow; only this time, his daggers flashed free of their sheaths as he gave it. "Cassiel."
    Would that I could have seen it clearer. From the far edges of my vision, I saw d'Essom's men-at-arms step up to the attack. Joscelin moved calmly, and steel glinted in an intricate pattern; he whirled as smoothly as silk, no haste in his motions, and yet the men-at-arms spun away from him like a child's toys. D'Essoms' gold-hiked dagger came away from my throat as he rose, then Joscelin moved again and it was flying through the air with a ringing sound. D'Essoms shook his hand and cursed. A line of red scored his palm. Joscelin bowed and sheathed his daggers.
    "I protect and serve," he said without inflection. "Phedre no Delaunay was speaking."
    "All right." D'Essoms sank back into his chair, waving his scored hand at his men, who staggered to their feet and fumbled for their blades. The predatory curiosity doubled in d'Essoms' gaze as he watched me collect myself to kneel with some semblance of dignity. "First an anguis-sette , now this. He's as real as you are, isn't he? Anafiel Delaunay is serious indeed, if he's contracted a Cassiline Brother as your companion. What makes you suppose I serve Barquiel L'Envers?"
    "My lord, you spoke of it." I touched my throat unthinking, feeling a trickle of blood. "The night you ... the night you took up the poker."
    Behind me, I heard Joscelin's sharp intake of breath. Whatever his training had prepared him for, it was