Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [16]
I felt sick.
Joscelin uttered a violent oath. "That's all?"
"Nearly." Ysandre sighed. "He claims to have had the Priestesses of the Temple questioned. They disavowed all knowledge of Melisande's disappearance, and he was satisfied with their answers."
"A priestess may lie as well as a priest," I said, remembering Brother Selbert.
"I know." There was kindness in Ysandre's regard. I looked away, finding it hard to bear. "But Lorenzo Pescaro reckons it is a D'Angeline matter, and little concern of his. He will not challenge the Temple of Asherat over it."
"Well, someone aided her," Phèdre mused aloud. "It's her way. She wouldn't leave without a plan in place, not after fourteen years of biding her time." She glanced at Joscelin. "Do you remember Allegra Stregazza's warning?"
He muttered under his breath.
"What?" Barquiel L'Envers' voice cracked.
"There were rumors." Phèdre glanced at me. "She took the Veil of Asherat, claimed sanctuary, and made herself into a mystery. A legendary beauty, bereft of her child, condemned by her country—"
He stared incredulously at her. "A cult of worship?"
I felt sicker.
"Well, a very small one," Phèdre said. "She wouldn't cultivate it, that would skirt too close to blasphemy."
"No." The Duc shook his head. "Oh, no! Not even Melisande—"
"Oh, she would. It's a means to an end." Phèdre rose without thinking, pacing the room. She wore a familiar look, vivid and distracted. "Have you sent for Duc Faragon?"
"Yes. He's coming from Kusheth. He should arrive in a few days." Ysandre watched her. "Do you think the Shahrizai are involved?"
"No." Phèdre frowned. "On the balance, no. Melisande hasn't trusted them fully since Persia's betrayal. She didn't trust them with the knowledge of Imriel's whereabouts, and I doubt she would with this."
"Mayhap," Ysandre said. "I'd like you to be there when I discuss the matter with him."
"As you wish, my lady." Phèdre tilted her head, thinking. "I'll write to Allegra today; and Severio, too. Among the Stregazza, they're two I trust. If we leave immediately after speaking to Duc Faragon—" "No."
Joscelin's voice cut through hers like a blade, flat and implacable. Among the four of us in the room, only Phèdre, lost in thought, failed to startle at it. She blinked at him, uncomprehending. Barquiel L'Envers opened his mouth to speak, then closed it as Drustan shook his head in warning.
"No," Joscelin repeated, sounding weary this time. "No. We are not going to La Serenissima. We are not embarking on another search for Melisande Shahrizai. No."
"But I can find her," she said simply.
"I don't care." He held her gaze. "Isn't this why you extracted a promise from her? You claim to understand her. You thought it worthwhile. Do you have so little faith in your own claim? Will you once more risk everything we have?"
Everyone was silent.
Phèdre closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and looked at me. I clenched my hands into fists, afraid of what she would say. I didn't want her to go to La Serenissima. I didn't want her to chase after the damned spectre of my damned mother. But my heart was in my throat, choking me speechless.
"No," she whispered at last. "You're right."
I unclenched my hands and breathed a sigh.
"Well, and that was hardly my intention!" Ysandre's voice was acerbic in the aftermath of tension. "What I want is your counsel and your wits, Phèdre. Here, beside me, in Terre d'Ange, serving the interest of the nation. Do you understand?"
She inclined her head. "Your majesty."
"Oh, stop that!" Ysandre said irritably. Gathering herself, she turned to me. "Imriel, heed me. I have kept the