Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [71]
"Well, that in itself is something," I retorted. "And I have never known you to care for gossip."
Joscelin smiled wryly, swirling his brandy and lowering his head as if to drink. I daresay no more than a sip of it had passed his lips. "They talk about you, you know," he said into his glass. "They say you are somewhat taken with the Lady Nicola L'Envers y Aragon, so much that you refused her payment. Your friend Apollonaire de Fhirze was passing jealous." Raising his head, he gave a short laugh. "And of me." His lips twisted bitterly. "He thinks I am the most fortunate man alive, it seems."
"You would be," I said. "If you had his tastes."
"Or his sister's."
Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best? Mayhap there is time and world enough, in the blessed Terre d'Ange-that-lies-beyond, to play these games out to their conclusions, but for us, on mortal soil, there is so little time! And I, of all people, was the least equipped to answer this riddle; I, who even now, in a hidden part of my soul, savored the deep ache of the words Joscelin and I threw at each other, the pain of a lovers' quarrel magnified by the deliberate actof hurting each other. Who knows how long we would be bound to the wheel of life by these acts, doomed to live again and again in mortal flesh, until we freed ourselves to pass through Elua's Gate? Yet even so, we do it, time and again.
"Come." Barquiel L'Envers' voice, light and mocking, slid between us like a blade. "Trouble among the Companions' chosen twosome? Say it is not so!"
With an effort, I erased my thoughts from my face to smile pleasantly; Joscelin, forgetting himself, gave a smooth Cassiline bow, hands settling watchfully over his dagger-hilts.
"Your grace," I murmured to the Duc, curtsying.
"If Ysandre doesn't stand on ceremony with you, I'll not." He smiled, showing his teeth. "And of a surety, Nicola is not minded to! She'd not be the first beholden to me I'd lost to your charms, would she, Delaunay's anguissette?"
In truth, she would not. There had been Childric d'Essoms, before, and a minor lordling named Rogier Clavel. Delaunay had used me to get to them, and them to get to the Duc L'Envers. Neither of us had forgotten. "I do not think the Lady Nicola is lost, my lord," I said carefully. "Say rather she thinks we are about the same business, you and I."
L'Envers rubbed at a scar on his chin, a souvenir of Khebbel-im-Akkad, if rumor spoke truth. "And you doubt it."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Don't you, my lord?"
He laughed. "Ah, Phèdre! I begin to think Anafiel Delaunay named a worthier heir than any of us suspected. I thought Ysandre was mad, when she sent you to the wilds of Alba as her emissary. If I'd thought it was aught else than a fool's errand, I'd have done somewhat more to halt it. But you did it, didn't you? And yet." His thoughtful gaze measured me. "Could you truly have watched her slain?"
I didn't have to ask who he meant.
Melisande.
I didn't have to answer honestly, either, but I didn't trustmyself with a lie. I returned his gaze squarely. "No. No, my lord, if you must know; I could not have watched it. Which is why I passed the night on the battlements of Troyes-le-Mont. If you do not believe it, question those men who stood guard that night, and learn it for yourself."
Barquiel L'Envers gave me a wry expression and ran a hand through his short, fair hair. "I've tried, actually; or my men have. They are singularly difficult to locate, the guardsmen of Troyes-le-Mont."
Joscelin started, and I glanced sharply at him. L'Envers didn't miss it, looking from one to the other of us.
"So you, too, have looked. Have you found them? Or," he asked, pleasant and dangerous, "or have you hid them, hmm?"
"Your grace." With an effortless motion, Joscelin stepped between us, and his hands rested lightly on his hilts. "I swear to you, on Cassiel's Dagger, that my lady Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève had naught to do with the disappearance