Kushiel's Mercy

her company.
    “Let us say I have become a fool in my dotage, too.” Melisande gave a self-deprecating smile, glancing around. “I don’t wish to lose this, Imriel. But strangely, it is more important to me to make what amendments I might for all that you have suffered.”
    “It wasn’t all your fault,” I said.
    “I know.” She rested her chin on folded hands, gazing into the distance. “And yet. ’Tis a strangeness, truly. I never took pleasure in seeing others suffer against their will, but it never troubled me overmuch, either. It was merely . . . information.”
    “Fault-lines to exploit,” I suggested cynically.
    “Yes.” Her glorious gaze returned to me. “You see them?”
    “I do.” I stuck my fork into a spear of tender asparagus, chewing it slowly. “But like Solon, I choose not to exploit such knowledge for my own gain. I do not think merciful Kushiel intended us to use such a gift lightly.”
    Her tone was unreadable. “So young to be so wise.”
    I shook my head. “A lifetime of struggling against your legacy. I find it hard to believe you never took pleasure in the suffering of others.”
    “Ah, well, suffering .” Melisande gave her graceful shrug. “When it is offered up in tribute, it is another matter. To feel another surrender his or her will unto yours, to bend it until it breaks . . . there is majesty and beauty in it.”
    For the first time, her words made my blood run cold. They were so matter-of-fact. I set down my fork, my appetite waning.
    “It bothers you to hear this,” my mother observed. “Have you never been tempted?”
    I thought about the first time I’d given free rein to the dark desires in me, and the morning after that first encounter at Valerian House, when I’d caught Phèdre’s wrist in anger, felt her pulse leap beneath my thumb, and I’d known . I thought about the horrible, unthinkable threats I’d made during my madness. I’d hated the people I loved best in the world. And I would have taken pleasure in making them suffer against their will. I would have taken enormous pleasure in it.
    “Yes,” I said shortly.
    Melisande cocked her head. “And yet?”
    “As a child, I saw death sown in the place of life,” I said. “And I think if I were to surrender wholly to my own darkest desires, without the bright beacon of love to guide me, I would become all that I despise.”
    “Me,” she said quietly.
    “No,” I said. “Worse.”
    We were both silent a moment. Melisande pushed her own barely touched plate away. A young man who looked to be of mainland Hellene blood, tall and fair, emerged from the recesses of the villa to take our plates away, pausing briefly for a nod of approval that wasn’t forthcoming. Lost in thought, my mother merely gestured absently. He looked a bit crestfallen as he departed.
    “You said you’ve changed,” I said, watching him go. “Does it trouble you now to observe others suffering against their will?”
    “Other than you?” She returned from wherever her thoughts had taken her. “Probably a great deal less than it should, but considerably more than it did.”
    “That’s comforting,” I said.
    Another graceful shrug. “I am as the gods made me, Imriel. I’m doing my best.”
    Since it seemed to be true, I didn’t press her, but changed the topic. “Do you love him?”
    Melisande smiled. “Solon? In my own way.”
    “Quite a change from having one of the most beautiful courtesans in the realm kneeling for your leash,” I commented.
    Her brows rose. “Phèdre told you about that?” she asked, sounding genuinely shocked.
    “Gods, no!” I said. “Mavros did, when we were younger.”
    “Sacriphant’s son,” she murmured. “I heard you’d become friends.” Melisande’s gaze shifted back toward the distance. “Yes and no. Phèdre nó Delaunay is the only anguissette in living memory, and Kushiel’s hand lay heavier on her than on any I have read about in history.” Her mouth quirked. “And unfortunately, she was a good deal more persistent and resourceful than I reckoned, although in the end I had cause to be grateful for it.”
    “You have no idea,” I said.
    “I have enough.” She paused. “But Solon . . . Solon, you see with the shallow eyes of youth. He is a homely man, yes, but the breadth of his knowledge and the acuity of his intellect are staggering. And it is an exhilarating pleasure to have one of the greatest minds in existence laid in supplication at one’s