Kushiel's Mercy

everyone on the dance floor was pressed tight around us, eagerly watching the spectacle. I edged my body in front of her. “Who in the hell are you, man?”
    “Your neighbor , ” he spat. “Your vassal , my greedy, treasonous, pandering liege!” He waved a flask, his tone turning bitterly sardonic. “Care for a swig of Muscat?”
    “Jean Le Blanc?” I asked.
    “Everyone knows!” He pointed at Sidonie, swaying. “You. You wouldn’t even hear my suit. Everyone knows. Walking around all day, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. Spreading your legs for that traitor-spawn, rutting like an animal all night. Your guards talk. They laugh. Everyone knows.”
    “That is a cursed lie!” Claude de Monluc squeezed through the crowd, his hand on his sword-hilt, his face flushed with fury. “Your guards don’t talk, my lady,” he said to Sidonie. “And they certainly don’t laugh.”
    Jean Le Blanc sneered. “Don’t deny the rutting, do you?”
    “No one denies the rutting, my lord.” Sidonie’s voice was cool and remarkably calm.
    “That’s why I refused to hear your suit. Apparently your advocate chose not to waste my mother’s time with it.” She studied him. “Did someone suggest otherwise to you?”
    He looked away, uncertain.
    I followed his gaze and saw Barquiel L’Envers grinning. He caught my eye and gave me a mocking salute. “Oh, Elua and his Companions have mercy on me!” I said in disgust.
    “Is this what you’ve been reduced to, L’Envers?”
    “He said . . .” Le Blanc swayed. “His advocate said . . .”
    “Listen to me, you thrice-cursed idiot.” I grabbed a handful of his white robe and shook him. “He put you up to this, didn’t he? Pushing your suit after it had been settled fairly.
    Lending you his advocate. Why?” I tightened my grip. “More of my damned mother’s legacy?”
    Le Blanc had turned pale, but he found a measure of his dignity. “It’s not old history. Not to some of us. I fought at Troyes-le-Mont, but I couldn’t protect my own family.” His mouth worked. “My wife . . . my wife was raped. Many times. She killed herself.”
    I let go of him. “I’m sorry.”
    “No, you’re not !” he said in anguish. “Dancing and laughing and kissing—”
    “And rutting,” Sidonie murmured.
    His hands tightened into fists. “Don’t,” I said to her. “My lord, believe me, I’m sorrier than you know, but we have no quarrel here. You were urged to bring a foolish suit and misled about its outcome.” I pointed at L’Envers. “He took your grief and turned it to his own purposes for what amounts to little more than a childish prank. So tell me, my lord, where your anger lies.”
    “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
    “You’re drunk,” Claude de Monluc said crisply. “Drunk, and a disgrace to the Court. Her highness has acted correctly in all legal matters, which is all that need concern you. You may apologize and leave.”
    “I can’t.” Le Blanc glanced at Sidonie. “I just . . . can’t.”
    He left, though, miserable and stumbling, a pathetic figure. No one accompanied him, least of all his patron L’Envers. I felt sick at heart.
    “Uncle.” Queen Ysandre’s voice sliced through the crowd, filled with rare fury. Her guards cleared the throng. Glittering in wintry white, her mask discarded, she confronted L’Envers. “You go too far,” she said grimly. “Urging that poor man to profane the Longest Night.”
    “Ysandre . . .” he said in a placating tone, gesturing at Sidonie and me. “They flaunt—”
    “I don’t care!” Color rioted on her cheekbones. “They’re in love. I don’t like it; you don’t like it. No one likes it, except mayhap the Night Court and folk too young to remember. But Name of Elua! It’s the Longest Night, and I will have peace in my Court.
    Since you’ve broken it, you may take your leave.”
    If it was a contest of wills, L’Envers lost. He bowed stiffly and departed.
    “Thank you,” Sidonie said quietly to her mother.
    “Don’t.” Ysandre rounded on her. “Just . . .” She drew a sharp breath, her violet gaze settling on me. “Find her,” she said simply. “I’m willing to place resources at your disposal once you do. Whatever it takes to bring Melisande Shahrizai to justice, I will provide. Bribery, diplomacy, force of arms. Only find her , Imriel.”
    “I will,” I promised.

Eight
    Winter’s grip on the land began to ease.
    I wrote to Diokles Agallon, the Ephesian