Kushiel's Dart

sides of his nobly-shaped nose. Effortlessly, he pulled his arm free of my grip. "Come on," he said in a tight voice, turning to stride down the hall. I had to hurry to catch him, cursing under my breath.
    At least he was easy enough to keep in sight, the dim grey robe of his mandilion coat swinging with the speed of his pace, the hilt of his broadsword rising over his shoulder and the blond hair clubbed at his neck. If we had looked a sight entering together, side by side, I couldn't imagine how much stranger it looked to have me chasing after him as we left.
    "Phedre!"
    A woman's voice, low and rich, with a hint of laughter in it like music; it was the only one I knew that could stop me in my tracks, my head turning like it was on a string. Melisande Shahrizai stood with two peers just inside an arched doorway. I approached at her beckon, while she bid farewell to the two lords with whom she had been conversing.
    "What brings you to the Palace, Phedre no Delaunay?" With a smile, she reached out to stroke the scratch d'Essoms' dagger had scored on my throat. "Anafiel's business, or Naamah's?"
    "My lady," I said, struggling for reserve, "you must ask it of my lord, and not me."
    "I shall, when I see him." Melisande ran a fold of my sangoire cloak through her ringers. "Such a beautiful color. I'm glad he found someone who could recreate the old dye. It suits you." She watched me with amusement, as if she could see the pulse quicken in my veins. "I mean to visit, soon. I've been in Kusheth, but I heard of your household's misfortune. Convey my regards to that sweet boy, will you? Alcuin, isn't it?"
    I would bet my marque she had no doubt of his name; the number of people outside Delaunay's household who even knew of the attack could be numbered on one hand. "I will, my lady, gladly."
    Footsteps sounded behind us, quick and sure. I saw Melisande's graceful brows arch and turned to see Joscelin, frowning. He made a swift bow, and rose with hands resting on his dagger hilts, standing at ease by my right elbow.
    Melisande glanced from my face to his, then back again, framing a question. "You?" she asked me, astonished. "The Cassiline Brother serves you?"
    I opened my mouth to reply, but Joscelin's bow and answer came quicker. "I protect and serve," he said flatly.
    It was the only time I ever saw Melisande Shahrizai startled into true laughter. It rang from the vaulted roof of the salon, free and spontaneous. "Oh, Anafiel Delaunay," she gasped, gaining composure and wiping her eyes with a lace-edged kerchief. "You priceless man. No wonder... ah, well."
    The white lines were back at the sides of Joscelin's nose and I could nearly hear his teeth grind. As if oblivious to his discomfort, Melisande patted his cheek, then traced a line on his chest with one finger. "It seems the Cassiline Brotherhood has been robbing the Night Court's cradles," she murmured, regarding him. He stared over her shoulder, the blood rising in a tide to heat his face. "Lucky brethren."
    I thought Joscelin might well explode, but he held his stance fixedly and stared into the distance. It is a long discipline, the Cassiline training. Even Melisande Shahrizai couldn't breach it with a touch. No, it would take somewhat more, I wagered; five minutes, perhaps even ten.
    "Well, then." Her eyes sparkled with the aftermath of laughter; a darker blue than Joscelin's, the starry hue of sapphires. "You will carry my regards to Alcuin, and my everlasting admiration to Delaunay?" I nodded. She had not given me the kiss of greeting, but she kissed me now in farewell, knowing it would set me off-balance with Joscelin watching.
    It did.
    "Who," he said when she had left us, "is that?"
    I cleared my throat. "The Lady Melisande Shahrizai."
    "The one who testified against House Trevalion." He continued to gaze after her. I was surprised he knew that much about the affairs of the realm. He shuddered, as if shaking off a spell; I actually sympathized with him, for a moment. "Will you be leaving now?" he asked then, polite and toneless. He had defaulted on his duty once through haste, I thought; it would not happen again.
    My feeling of sympathy evaporated.

FOURTEEN
    It is a matter of some irony that I, of all people, had so little knowledge of the House to which I would have belonged, had not fate pricked my left eye. The gatekeeper admitted Delaunay's coach readily and we traversed a long entrance well-guarded by trees. I was met in the courtyard by two apprentices, a