Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [6]
The Queen raised her fair brows at me, and I returned her gaze unblinking.
We had thought about it, of course; how not? But there was a truth to Joscelin's words, and a deeper truth I did not voice to Ysandre. I have an ill-luck name, given me by a mother who knew a great deal about Naamah's arts, and not much else. My lord Kushiel marked me as his own, and he has cast his Dart in places further and more deadly than I might have dreamed. Who is to say, if the dubious gift of an anguissette is hereditary? I have never heard that it is; nor have I heard it is not. I am what I am, and there is no point in regretting it. I daresay I would not have survived such adventures as have befallen me if it were not for my unique relationship with pain. Lypiphera, they named me on the island of Kriti; Pain-bearer.
Nonetheless, I had no desire to pass this dubious gift on to any child of my blood, and I had never invoked Eisheth's blessing to open the gates of my womb. It is harder to watch another suffer than to endure it oneself. There are forms of pain even an anguissette will avoid. This was one of them.
"So be it," Ysandre said gently, nodding at the Companion's Star upon my breast. "I always thought you were saving your boon for yourchildren, Phèdre. A duchy, a royal appointment; even a betrothal, mayhap. I have given my word."
"No." I fingered the brooch and shook my head, answering with honesty. "There is naught that I need or desire, my lady, save that which is not within your power to grant." I smiled ruefully. We are gotten on the wrong side of godhead, we D'Angelines, and the One God has washed his hands of Blessed Elua's descendants; not even a Queen can alter that fact. "Can you bring the dead to life, or give me the key to lock the One God's vengeance? Aught else I might desire, you have laid at my disposal."
"I would that it was more. My debt to you is great." Ysandre rose and paced, pausing to gaze across the verdant expanse of her sanctum. No herbs here, but only flowers for her pleasure, lovingly cultivated by her gardeners. Near the gate, four of the Queen's Guard loitered at their ease, at once relaxed and attentive, while the Chamberlain of the Nursery stood by and servants in the livery of House Courcel awaited to attend her pleasure. The Dauphine Sidonie sat cross-legged on the flagstones, humming as she wove a garland, and young Princess Alais tugged at Joscelin's braid. "There is no news of Melisande's boy?"
"No." I said it softly, shaking my head, although she could not see. "I would tell you if there were, my lady."
"Phèdre." She turned around, eyeing me. "Will you never be done with forgetting it, near-cousin?"
"Probably not." I smiled at her, leaning over to pluck a handful of violets from Sidonie's lap and plaiting them expertly into an intricate garland. I had done as much when a child myself, attending adepts in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers. "There," I said, setting it atop her head. The child glowed with pleasure, rising to run with careful steps and show her mother.
Some things a courtesan can do that a Queen cannot.
"Very lovely," Ysandre said, stooping to plant a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Thank the Comtesse, Sidonie."
"Thank you, Comtesse," the girl said obediently, turning round to face me. Her sister Alais loosed a sudden chortle and steel rang as she hoisted one of Joscelin's daggers from its sheath. The guardsmen started to attention at the sound, relaxing with laughter as a chagrined Joscelin cautiously pried the hilt from her small fingers. The Dauphine Sidonie looked appalled at her sister's breach of decorum; Alais looked pleased.
Ysandre de la Courcel looked resigned. "Mayhap you have the right of it," she said wryly. "Elua's blessing upon your quest, Phèdre. And if you pass the Cruarch's flagship on your journey, tell him to make haste."
THREE
I HAVE known other losses as grave as that of Hyacinthe's sacrifice and some worse, in other ways.