Kushiel's Dart

not this. D'Essoms' brows shot up toward his hairline. "You heard that?" he asked, astonishment unfeigned.
    From my kneeling position, I stared at him, and the red haze clouded my vision. "My lord d'Essoms, you have known from the first that Anafiel Delaunay fished with interesting bait," I said, citing his own words. "Did you suppose Kushiel's Dart had no barbs?"
    One of the men-at-arms made a sound; I don't know which. I held d'Essom's gaze as if my life depended upon it, which perhaps it did. After a moment, he gave a short laugh. "Barbs, yes." His mouth twisted wryly. "I've known since that night yours were sunk in me. But these you speak of are Delaunay's crafting, and not Kushiel's."
    I shook my head. "Delaunay taught me to listen, and cast me on the waters. But what I am, I was born."
    D'Essoms sighed and gestured at a chair. "For Elua's sake, Phedre, if you would petition me on behalf of a peer, do it seated." I obeyed, and d'Essoms gave his wry smile as he watched Joscelin move to take up his post at my elbow. "Now what does Anafiel Delaunay want with Barquiel L'Envers, and why on earth should the Due listen to what he has to say?"
    "What my lord Delaunay wants, I could not say," I said carefully. "He holds my marque, and I do as he bids; he does not explain himself to me. I know only what he offers."
    "Which is?"
    It was the only card I held, and I hoped I was playing it wisely. "Delaunay knows who killed the Due's sister."
    Childric d'Essoms sat unmoving. I could trace the play of his thoughts behind his still gaze. "Why does he not take it to the King?"
    "There is no proof."
    "Then why should the Due L'Envers believe him?"
    "Because it is true, my lord." I saw as I said it the pattern of Delaunay's ploy unfolding before me, and gazed at d'Essoms. "By the same token by which I know you serve Barquiel L'Envers, I swear it is true."
    "You?" he asked. I shook my head.
    "Not I, but by the same token."
    "The white-haired boy. It must be." D'Essoms moved restlessly; I sensed rather than saw Joscelin tense, then relax. "Still, they have been enemies a long time, my Due and your lord. Why would Delaunay . . .?" I saw the answer come to him, but he bit it off unspoken, gaze moving from me to Joscelin. "Delaunay." He uttered it like a curse, and sighed. "Very well.
    My lord the Due would have my head if I didn't bring him word of this. I make no promises, but tell Delaunay I will accede to his request. And unless I am mistaken, the Due will wish to hear what he has to say."
    "Yes, my lord," I said, bowing my head. "Thank you."
    "Don't thank me." D'Essoms rose smoothly; Joscelin shifted, but I motioned him to stillness as d'Essoms approached. He traced the line of my cheek with his knuckles, ignoring the Cassiline. "You will have a great deal to answer for, should I choose to see you again, Phedre no Delaunay," d'Essoms said, making a menacing caress of his voice. I shuddered at his touch, half-overcome with desire.
    "Yes, my lord," I whispered, turning my head to kiss his knuckles. His hand shifted, closing hard on the back of my neck. Joscelin quivered like an overtight bowstring, unsheathing several inches of steel from his daggers. D'Essoms gave him an amused look.
    "Know what it is you serve, Cassiline," he said contemptuously, giving my neck a brief, hard shake. I drew in a sharp breath, not exactly in pain. "You'll need a strong stomach, if you're to be companion to an anguis-sette ." Releasing me, d'Essoms stepped back. His men eyed Joscelin warily, but the Cassiline merely bowed, his face like stone. "Tell Delaunay he will hear word," d'Essoms said to the both of us, bored by his own game. "Now get out of my sight."
    Escorted by his men-at-arms, we obeyed quickly; indeed, Joscelin couldn't oblige him quickly enough. The moment the door to d'Essoms' quarters closed behind us, he turned on me, livid with revulsion.
    "You call . . . that" he said savagely, "You call that service to Elua and his Companions? It's bad enough, what most of your kind do in Naamah's name, but that. . ."
    "No," I hissed, cutting him off and grabbing his arm. A pair of passing courtiers turned to look. "I call that service to Anafiel Delaunay, who owns my marque," I said in a low tone, "and if it is offensive to you, then I suggest you take it up with your Prefect, who ordered you into the same service. But whatever you do, do not blather it about the halls of the Palace!"
    Joscelin's blue eyes widened and white lines formed at the