Kushiel’s Dart

"What I now know," I said, "half the peers of the realm knew already, and I think no one is anxious to kill for it. Isabel de la Courcel had her revenge, when she had his verses banned. Thelesis de Mornay told me Delaunay might have been the King’s Poet, if matters hadn’t fallen out differently. It’s what he became instead that is dangerous to know."

"And do you suppose Melisande Shahrizai isn’t clever enough to send you fishing for it?" Alcuin raised his brows.

I felt a chill at the thought, and kept my silence. Alcuin had said he would tell me what he knew when I made my marque; he had promised not to speak of it before then. The long-ago prophecy of Hyacinthe’s mother echoed in my memory, and I was suddenly afraid to tell him what Melisande had given me. "Will you tell Delaunay?" I asked instead.

He shook his head somberly. "It’s your decision. I’ll have no part of it, Phèdre. If you’re wise, you’ll tell him. But I’ll leave it to you."

With that, he left me, feeling more alone than ever I had in Delaunay’s service.

In the end, I temporized.

I told him everything, all that I could remember, except the part about Prince Rolande and the book. He made me go over the Duc de Morhban’s Masque a dozen times over, at last giving up and turning his attention to the diamond-spangled cloth, turning it over in his hands and shaking his head.

"What will you do?" he asked at last.

I’d had a little time to give it thought, and clasped my hands together, gathering courage to voice it. "My lord," I said, keeping my voice steady. "In the Night Court, when an adept has made their marque, they may stay in the service of their House, and rise within its ranks until such time as they choose to retire. I don’t…I don’t wish to leave your household."

Delaunay’s smile was like the sun rising after the Longest Night. "You wish to stay?"

"My lord." I swallowed against the lump of mingled fear and hope in my throat. "Do you permit it?"

He laughed out loud, drew me into his arms and kissed me on both cheeks. "Do you jest? Phèdre, you take enough risks to turn my hair grey with fright, but I’m the one who taught you to do it. Since you will take them whether I will it or no, I would sooner you do it under my roof, where I can safeguard you somewhat, than anywhere else in the realm." Delaunay stroked my hair. "I’d half-thought I might lose you to your Tsingano boy," he said, not entirely in jest. "If not House Shahrizai."

"If the Prince of Travellers thinks I’ve been waiting for the moment my marque was made, that he might deem me worthy, he’s sore mistaken," I said, giddy with relief. "Let him court me, if he wishes it. And Melisande is too interested in seeing how far I will run with her collar on me," I added, fingering the diamond at the end of the velvet cord, color rising to my face.

Delaunay forbore to comment on it, for which I was grateful. "Phèdre," he said instead, his tone sober, "you are a member of my household, and bear my surname. If ever you doubted it, know well, I would never, ever cast you out."

"Thank you, my lord," I murmured, unexpectedly moved. He grinned at me.

"Even if your service fills Naamah’s coffers and your own, rather than mine." He hefted the remains of my gown. "Shall I send this to a gem-merchant, then?"

"Yes, my lord," I said, adding fervently, "please."

It would be some days before the whole of the transaction could be completed; with Delaunay’s permission, I took a sullen Joscelin as my escort and rode to Night’s Doorstep, albeit by day. Alcuin lent me his saddle horse, and though the winter air was bitter, it was a pleasure to ride on horseback rather than cloistered in a coach. My last memory of a coach had too much of Melisande Shahrizai in it, and I welcomed the cold air clearing my thoughts.

I wore the diamond, though. I couldn’t quite bear to remove it, and tried not to think too much about why.

Hyacinthe was supervising a handful of young men, easing a battered carriage into the stables he leased. "Phèdre!" he shouted, catching me in his arms and swinging me around. "Look at this. I’ve nigh got a full-fledged livery service now. A noble’s carriage, and I bought it for a song."

Joscelin leaned against the weathered wall of the stable, ashen garments rendering him nearly invisible. "Then you paid a verse too high, Tsingano," he said, nodding at the warped wheels and missing spokes. "Stripping that fancy trim won’t cover the cost of repairing the wheels."

"Happily, Sir Cassiline, I know a cartwright who will also work for a song," Hyacinthe said mildly. He turned back to me and grinned. "Delaunay let you out of your cage? Can I buy you a jug?"

"I’ll buy you one." I jingled the purse at my belt. "Come on, Joscelin, it won’t kill you to set foot in an inn. Cassiel will forgive you, if you stick to water."