Kushiel’s Dart

"There is one." From my strained position, I could see Joscelin give his damnable bow; only this time, his daggers flashed free of their sheaths as he gave it. "Cassiel."

Would that I could have seen it clearer. From the far edges of my vision, I saw d’Essom’s men-at-arms step up to the attack. Joscelin moved calmly, and steel glinted in an intricate pattern; he whirled as smoothly as silk, no haste in his motions, and yet the men-at-arms spun away from him like a child’s toys. D’Essoms' gold-hilted dagger came away from my throat as he rose, then Joscelin moved again and it was flying through the air with a ringing sound. D’Essoms shook his hand and cursed. A line of red scored his palm. Joscelin bowed and sheathed his daggers.

"I protect and serve," he said without inflection. "Phèdre nó Delaunay was speaking."

"All right." D’Essoms sank back into his chair, waving his scored hand at his men, who staggered to their feet and fumbled for their blades. The predatory curiosity doubled in d’Essoms' gaze as he watched me collect myself to kneel with some semblance of dignity. "First an anguissette, now this. He’s as real as you are, isn’t he? Anafiel Delaunay is serious indeed, if he’s contracted a Cassiline Brother as your companion. What makes you suppose I serve Barquiel L’Envers?"

"My lord, you spoke of it." I touched my throat unthinking, feeling a trickle of blood. "The night you…the night you took up the poker."

Behind me, I heard Joscelin’s sharp intake of breath. Whatever his training had prepared him for, it was not this. D’Essoms' brows shot up toward his hairline. "You heard that?" he asked, astonishment unfeigned.

From my kneeling position, I stared at him, and the red haze clouded my vision. "My lord d’Essoms, you have known from the first that Anafiel Delaunay fished with interesting bait," I said, citing his own words. "Did you suppose Kushiel’s Dart had no barbs?"

One of the men-at-arms made a sound; I don’t know which. I held d’Essom’s gaze as if my life depended upon it, which perhaps it did. After a moment, he gave a short laugh. "Barbs, yes." His mouth twisted wryly. "I’ve known since that night yours were sunk in me. But these you speak of are Delaunay’s crafting, and not Kushiel’s."

I shook my head. "Delaunay taught me to listen, and cast me on the waters. But what I am, I was born."

D’Essoms sighed and gestured at a chair. "For Elua’s sake, Phèdre, if you would petition me on behalf of a peer, do it seated." I obeyed, and d’Essoms gave his wry smile as he watched Joscelin move to take up his post at my elbow. "Now what does Anafiel Delaunay want with Barquiel L’Envers, and why on earth should the Duc listen to what he has to say?"

"What my lord Delaunay wants, I could not say," I said carefully. "He holds my marque, and I do as he bids; he does not explain himself to me. I know only what he offers."

"Which is?"

It was the only card I held, and I hoped I was playing it wisely. "Delaunay knows who killed the Duc’s sister."

Childric d’Essoms sat unmoving. I could trace the play of his thoughts behind his still gaze. "Why does he not take it to the King?"

"There is no proof."

"Then why should the Duc L’Envers believe him?"

"Because it is true, my lord." I saw as I said it the pattern of Delaunay’s ploy unfolding before me, and gazed at d’Essoms. "By the same token by which I know you serve Barquiel L’Envers, I swear it is true."

"You?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Not I, but by the same token."

"The white-haired boy. It must be." D’Essoms moved restlessly; I sensed rather than saw Joscelin tense, then relax. "Still, they have been enemies a long time, my Duc and your lord. Why would Delaunay…?" I saw the answer come to him, but he bit it off unspoken, gaze moving from me to Joscelin. "Delaunay." He uttered it like a curse, and sighed. "Very well.

My lord the Duc would have my head if I didn’t bring him word of this. I make no promises, but tell Delaunay I will accede to his request. And unless I am mistaken, the Duc will wish to hear what he has to say."

"Yes, my lord," I said, bowing my head. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me." D’Essoms rose smoothly; Joscelin shifted, but I motioned him to stillness as d’Essoms approached. He traced the line of my cheek with his knuckles, ignoring the Cassiline. "You will have a great deal to answer for, should I choose to see you again, Phèdre nó Delaunay," d’Essoms said, making a menacing caress of his voice. I shuddered at his touch, half-overcome with desire.

"Yes, my lord," I whispered, turning my head to kiss his knuckles. His hand shifted, closing hard on the back of my neck. Joscelin quivered like an overtight bowstring, unsheathing several inches of steel from his daggers. D’Essoms gave him an amused look.