We knew each other too well, we two, to dissemble.
"No." He shook his head gravely. "Phèdre ... Elua knows, I love you. But I am sworn to Cassiel. I cannot be two things, not even for you. I will honor my vow, to protect and serve you. To the death, if need be. You cannot ask for more. Yet you do."
"I am Kushiel's chosen, and sworn to Naamah," I whis pered. "I honor your vow. Can you not honor mine?"
"So be it," I said with closed eyes.
When I opened them, he was gone.
"You'll need a carriage," Fortun said pragmatically as we drew near to the City. "It won't do for the Comtesse de Montrève to ride astride, my lady. But I reckon it can wait until we've sold the wool."
"It will have to." I had supposed, before Ysandre's Chan cellor of the Exchequer had informed me that I was the inheritor of Delaunay's estate and never-claimed title, that all D'Angeline nobles had coin in abundance; in truth, it was not so. I drew a modest income from my holdings at Montrève, and I had funds from the recompense of Delau nay's City house. It had been seized upon his death, when I was judged in absentia to be his murderer. Now, my name was clear, thanks to Ysandre's intervention. In the City of Elua, it is known that I loved my lord Delaunay well and had no part in his death; as he named me his heir, so did I inherit. Still, I had no wish to dwell in the place where he died.
I had a diamond, once, that would have financed the be ginnings of a salon any courtesan might envy. Thinking on it, I touched my bare throat where it used to hang. I would rather have starved than profit from that gem.
Glancing at Joscelin, I saw his shoulders set with resig nation.
So we entered the City.
In some parts, it was small, and in others, vaster and more lovely than I remembered, gracious and proud. Ti-Philippe scrambled down to meet us, and led us inward, along the winding course of the river toward the Palace. In the street, citizens paused and watched curiously, marking our passage. I could hear the rumors begin to spread. To the east, the hill of Mont Nuit sloped upward. The Night Court was there, with its Thirteen Houses, where I had received my earliest training; in Cereus House, First among the Thirteen. At its foot lay Night's Doorstep, my refuge, where Hyacinthe had established himself as the Prince of Travellers.
That was the past. The future lay before us. In sight of the Palace, at the juncture of a narrow street, Remy met us. After a hurried conference, Ti-Philippe took stewardship of the wool-wagons, leading them to the worsters' district.
I stood in the entry, where the winter light filtered cool and green through the hardy vines. "It will suit," I said, catching my breath in a laugh. "It will suit most admirably, chevalier!"
Thus did I take up residence as the Comtesse de Montrève in the City of Elua.
My first invitation arrived before I'd scarce gotten settled; no surprise, for I'd written to Cecilie in advance that I was returning. We had maintained a steady correspondence dur ing my time at Montrève, for in addition to being one of my oldest acquaintances—and one of the few I trusted nearly as much as I did Joscelin—she was a delightful cor respondent, her letters laden with bits of news and gossip that I relished to no end. I accepted her invitation at once.
"Phèdre." Meeting me at her door, Cecilie Laveau-Perrin enfolded me unhesitatingly in a warm embrace that I re turned without reserve. Her light-blue eyes, set in a face no less beautiful for encroaching age, glowed as she held me at arm's length. "You look well. Country living must suit you." Smiling, she gave Joscelin the kiss of greeting. "And Joscelin Verreuil! I am still jealous of Cassiel's claim upon you."
"Not in Montrève, no." I shook my head and took a sip of wine, then drew a deep breath. "I am returning to the Service of Naamah."
"Ah." Cecilie rested her chin on her fingertips, regarding me. "And Messire Joscelin grieves. Well, I did not think Naamah had done with you, Phèdre," she said, surprising me. "You were born to be one of the great ones, not to waste your youth on sheep-shearings and barn dances. How old are you? Twenty?"
'Twenty-two." A touch of indignation in my tone made her smile.
"You see? Scarce out of girlhood." She toyed with a strand of pearls, but her pale blue eyes were shrewd. "Although I'll allow that you've seen and done things no Night Court adept could survive. Still, in ten years, you might come into your prime. Is it only that, my dear, or is it An afiel Delaunay's game you seek to play?"
I should have known she would suspect it. Cècilie had
As an adept of Cereus House, she had cause to know. In the Thirteen Houses of the Court of Night-Blooming Flow ers, Naamah's Service was an item of faith. As Naamah had lain down with strangers on blessed Elua's behalf, so did we; but we were mortal, and where power intersects with pleasure, there is danger. Adepts of the Night Court dabbled with great caution in political intrigue. As a peer of the realm, I risked all the more. No one living had done it.
Placing a candied rose petal on my tongue, I let it melt in a wash of sweetness. "I will," I promised. "What news have I missed?"
"Ah, well!" Her eyes danced. "Despite the Cruarch's visit this summer, it grows obvious that the Queen is not with child. Now that winter stares us in the teeth, speculation mounts as to whether or not she will take a lover; and if so, whom."
"Does it indeed?" I murmured. "Do you think she will?" We were D'Angeline.
Love as thou wilt.
She would not have been the first, nor the last.
"No," Cecilie said decisively, shaking her head before sipping her wine. "Ysandre was raised as a pawn on the playing field of marital alliance; she knows how to play the game and commit to none. Any mind, I hear she is com mitted to him. If House Courcel provides an heir, he or she will be half Picti."
"If Ysandre is not troubled, I'll not trouble myself." I took up the wine-jug and refilled our glasses. "What of the Skaldi? Have the borders been quiet?"
We were both silent a moment, remembering. Only a few of the Allies of Camlach had survived the battle of Troyes- le-Mont, where the Skaldi warlord Waldemar Selig had united his people, leading an invasion against Terre d'Ange. He had had reason to believe he would prevail, encouraged in his endeavors by Melisande Shahrizai, who played a deep-laid game. I know, for she sold me into slavery among the Skaldi when I learned her plan. I do not think she meant me to survive. I did, though. In the deepest winter of Skaldia, I survived to become Selig's mistress, and I learned his plan, escaping in time to warn Ysandre. It was enough, by the nearest of margins. Ysandre sent me to Alba, and I brought the Cruarch's army to my country's aid. In the end, only Melisande escaped unscathed.
I could have done none of it without Joscelin.
The Allies of Camlach had been vassals of the traitorous Duc Isidore d'Aiglemort, Melisande's ally, whose fatal con spiracy had opened the door for the Skaldic invasion and
nearly brought ruin on the nation. Isidore d'Aiglemort is dead now, and he died a hero at the end.