Kushiel's Dart

you are Alcuin no Delaunay." He grasped Alcuin's hand briefly, seeing a hint of reserve flicker in the dark eyes. I had forgotten the exquisite courtesies of the Night Court; or rather, I had never been on the receiving end of them. "Be welcome."
    "The Dow-" I began to ask, then corrected myself. "The old Do-wayne?"
    Jareth looked grave, although I could tell it was put on. "She died some seven years ago, Phedre. It was a peaceful death, she went in her sleep." He touched his chain. "I have been Dowayne since."
    "I am sorry," I murmured, unaccountably grieved. As fierce as the old woman had been, she was a part of my childhood. "You have been an able successor, I am sure."
    "I do my best." Jareth smiled gently. "You remember Suriah? She is my Second now."
    "Come," Delaunay said to Alcuin, nodding toward the interior of the Great Hall. "Let us meet the revelers, my dear; I'm sure Phedre and the Dowayne have much to discuss."
    I watched them fade into the crowd. At the far end of the hall, a table was set on a dais for Prince Baudoin and a select few. Suriah was there; the Prince was feeding her tidbits by hand. Melisande Shahrizai looked amused. "She was the Winter Queen."
    "It gave her a lot of status." Jareth's voice changed, turning pragmatic, adept to adept. "People still tell the story every Midwinter, I'd have been a fool to choose anyone else."
    He had never been a fool. "No," I said, agreeing. "You made the right choice." Even from a distance, I could see that her pallid beauty had already peaked, and there was no evidence in her of the unexpected steel that lay beneath the delicate veneer of the few rare adepts who survived the loss of youth's tender bloom. I did not think Suriah would live to make Dowayne, and I felt sorry for her. "She was always kind to me."
    "I hope you have fond memories of Cereus House, Phedre."
    Looking into Jareth's blue eyes, I realized it mattered to him; in certain circles, my word could damage the reputation of his House. "Yes," I answered honestly. "If I never belonged, nor was I shunned, and what ill-treatment I received, I well deserved and," I smiled wickedly at him, "quite enjoyed." He blushed; it is a mark of delicacy in Cereus to find the stronger passions immodest. "There is no finer training than that of Cereus House," I added. "It has stood me in good stead, and I can only speak well of my time here."
    "I am pleased," he said, recovering his aplomb and making me a bow. "We are honored to have fostered you." Reaching into a pocket of his waistcoat, he drew forth a token of Cereus House. "Please, take this, and know you are always welcome here."
    I took it and thanked him graciously. Jareth smiled.
    "Enjoy the night," he said. "It's not often a Servant of Naamah has a chance to be a patron."
    With that, he took his leave of me, moving smoothly on to greet newly arriving guests. Neither Delaunay nor Alcuin were in sight, but they would surely be making their way toward to the dais and I hurried to join them. It would be inappropriate for a member of Delaunay's household to be absent when he paid his respects to the Prince. I had not lost the trick of slipping gracefully through a crowd, and had to remind myself that there was no need to keep my gaze downcast; still, I felt an unwarranted thrill of boldness as I looked other patrons full in the face.
    Strange indeed, to be here again.
    A handful of people had gathered at the foot of the dais, waiting to wish the Prince a joyous birthday, and there I found Delaunay and Alcuin. As always, there was a stillness to Delaunay's presence, an observant calm that lent him a dignity surpassing that of those who surrounded him.
    On the dais, anything but dignity reigned. Prince Baudoin, older than the wild boy whom I had first seen in this hall, had lost neither his good looks nor the hectic gleam of gaiety that lit his sea-grey eyes. As I had seen from the back of the hall, he held poor Suriah on his lap, keeping her captive with one arm.
    Adepts of Cereus House are ill-suited to undignified treatment; if this was to be the nature of the fete, Melisande would have done better to reserve another House-Orchis, perhaps, or Jasmine. She sat at Baudoin's right hand, and I understood, then, that the adept's discomfort entertained her. Melisande's choice had been deliberate.
    Two of Baudoin's guard, high-ranking nobles' sons, were privileged to share his table. One, following the Prince's lead, dandled a female adept on his lap. The other