Escorted by his men-at-arms, we obeyed quickly; indeed, Joscelin couldn’t oblige him quickly enough. The moment the door to d’Essoms' quarters closed behind us, he turned on me, livid with revulsion.
"You call…that," he said savagely, "You call that service to Elua and his Companions? It’s bad enough, what most of your kind do in Naamah’s name, but that…"
"No," I hissed, cutting him off and grabbing his arm. A pair of passing courtiers turned to look. "I call that service to Anafiel Delaunay, who owns my marque," I said in a low tone, "and if it is offensive to you, then I suggest you take it up with your Prefect, who ordered you into the same service. But whatever you do, do not blather it about the halls of the Palace!"
Joscelin’s blue eyes widened and white lines formed at the sides of his nobly-shaped nose. Effortlessly, he pulled his arm free of my grip. "Come on," he said in a tight voice, turning to stride down the hall. I had to hurry to catch him, cursing under my breath.
At least he was easy enough to keep in sight, the dim grey robe of his mandilion coat swinging with the speed of his pace, the hilt of his broadsword rising over his shoulder and the blond hair clubbed at his neck. If we had looked a sight entering together, side by side, I couldn’t imagine how much stranger it looked to have me chasing after him as we left.
"Phèdre!"
A woman’s voice, low and rich, with a hint of laughter in it like music; it was the only one I knew that could stop me in my tracks, my head turning like it was on a string. Melisande Shahrizai stood with two peers just inside an arched doorway. I approached at her beckon, while she bid farewell to the two lords with whom she had been conversing.
"What brings you to the Palace, Phèdre nó Delaunay?" With a smile, she reached out to stroke the scratch d’Essoms' dagger had scored on my throat. "Anafiel’s business, or Naamah’s?"
"My lady," I said, struggling for reserve, "you must ask it of my lord, and not me."
"I shall, when I see him." Melisande ran a fold of my sangoire cloak through her ringers. "Such a beautiful color. I’m glad he found someone who could recreate the old dye. It suits you." She watched me with amusement, as if she could see the pulse quicken in my veins. "I mean to visit, soon. I’ve been in Kusheth, but I heard of your household’s misfortune. Convey my regards to that sweet boy, will you? Alcuin, isn’t it?"
I would bet my marque she had no doubt of his name; the number of people outside Delaunay’s household who even knew of the attack could be numbered on one hand. "I will, my lady, gladly."
Footsteps sounded behind us, quick and sure. I saw Melisande’s graceful brows arch and turned to see Joscelin, frowning. He made a swift bow, and rose with hands resting on his dagger hilts, standing at ease by my right elbow.
Melisande glanced from my face to his, then back again, framing a question. "You?" she asked me, astonished. "The Cassiline Brother serves you?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but Joscelin’s bow and answer came quicker. "I protect and serve," he said flatly.
It was the only time I ever saw Melisande Shahrizai startled into true laughter. It rang from the vaulted roof of the salon, free and spontaneous. "Oh, Anafiel Delaunay," she gasped, gaining composure and wiping her eyes with a lace-edged kerchief. "You priceless man. No wonder…ah, well."
The white lines were back at the sides of Joscelin’s nose and I could nearly hear his teeth grind. As if oblivious to his discomfort, Melisande patted his cheek, then traced a line on his chest with one finger. "It seems the Cassiline Brotherhood has been robbing the Night Court’s cradles," she murmured, regarding him. He stared over her shoulder, the blood rising in a tide to heat his face. "Lucky brethren."
I thought Joscelin might well explode, but he held his stance fixedly and stared into the distance. It is a long discipline, the Cassiline training. Even Melisande Shahrizai couldn’t breach it with a touch. No, it would take somewhat more, I wagered; five minutes, perhaps even ten.
"Well, then." Her eyes sparkled with the aftermath of laughter; a darker blue than Joscelin’s, the starry hue of sapphires. "You will carry my regards to Alcuin, and my everlasting admiration to Delaunay?" I nodded. She had not given me the kiss of greeting, but she kissed me now in farewell, knowing it would set me off-balance with Joscelin watching.
It did.
"Who," he said when she had left us, "is that?"
I cleared my throat. "The Lady Melisande Shahrizai."
"The one who testified against House Trevalion." He continued to gaze after her. I was surprised he knew that much about the affairs of the realm. He shuddered, as if shaking off a spell; I actually sympathized with him, for a moment. "Will you be leaving now?" he asked then, polite and toneless. He had defaulted on his duty once through haste, I thought; it would not happen again.
My feeling of sympathy evaporated.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When we returned, Delaunay was waiting for us in his receiving room, unusual in itself. I wondered if the formality was for Joscelin’s benefit, and grew further irritated with him to think it. Alcuin was there, sitting cross-legged and quiet on a low couch; he had been watching Delaunay pace for the better part of an hour, I guessed.
"Well?" Delaunay asked as we entered. "Will he do it?"
As I made ready to speak, once again Joscelin beat me to it.
"My lord," he said in his most impassive voice, unbuckling his baldric and slinging the sheathed sword off his shoulder, "I have failed in your service. I beg you to accept the blade of this unworthy one."
I stared at him open-mouthed as he went to one knee before Delaunay and proffered the blade across the back of his vambraced left arm. Even Delaunay looked startled.
"What in Elua’s name are you talking about?" he asked. "Phèdre looks well enough to me, and I ask no more than that."
"Show him," Joscelin said, not looking at me.
"What, this?" I touched the trickle of blood that had dried at my throat and laughed, uncomprehending. "From Childric d’Essoms, this is no more than a love-scratch, my lord," I said to Delaunay. "And 'twas Joscelin kept him from giving me worse."
"D’Essoms grew violent toward you?" Delaunay raised his eyebrows.
"When he learned that I had betrayed his patronage to you. But Joscelin-"
"He laid a blade against her and drew blood," Joscelin interrupted me, adamant in his profession of guilt. "I failed in my warding, and then in my anger, I let her out of my sight."
I caught Delaunay’s inquiring glance. "Melisande." Her name sufficed as explanation. "She sends her greetings. and her regrets upon your in jury," I added to Alcuin. To Delaunay, I said, compelled by fairness, "Joscelin did not fail you. He protected me well. D’Essoms took him by surprise, that’s all."
Joscelin didn’t rise, still holding out his sword, head bowed. "I have never drawn blade against any save on the practice-field," he murmured. "I was unready. I am unworthy."
Delaunay drew a deep breath, then released it. "An untried Cassiline," he muttered. "I should have known the Prefect would salt his gift thusly. Well, lad, I have measured your skill myself on the practice-field, and if you succeed thus well against Childric d’Essoms unready and untried on the proving-ground of D’Angeline intrigue, I am not displeased." Joscelin’s head came up, blue eyes blinking. He tried to offer his sword once more. Delaunay shook his head. "To fail and persevere is a harder test than any you will meet on the practice-field. Keep your sword. I cannot afford its loss." Dismissing the matter, he turned his gaze back to me. "Now what of the Duc L’Envers?"