"No," he said finally, his voice harsh. "I know enough. I don't want to hear more."

Melisande inclined her head. "It is as you wish, Imriel. Remember it is there."

He turned back to me. "Can we go, now?"

"Yes," I said. "If it's what you want."

He nodded, his face sick and pleading.

"Then go with Joscelin," I said gently. "You can make an offering to Asherat-of-the-Sea, who once saved my life. I will stay a moment, and speak with your mother."

They went, Imriel placing his hand trustingly in Joscelin's, Joscelin gave me a dour warning glance as they went, but never spoke a word. And Melisande watched them go, and I felt against my skin the bitter intensity of her longing. When they left, she sat down on the couch with a shuddering sigh, passing both hands blindly over her face.

"How is he, truly?" she asked me.

I remained standing. "Whole enough in body, my lady. He has nightmares.”

Melisande lifted her gaze. "Do I want to know why?"

"No." I shook my head. "You don't."

She looked away. "And I am in your debt, twice-over. Do I want to know what you endured to find him, Phèdre?"

"No." I couldn't rid myself of a terrible compassion. "No, my lady, you do not."

"The kingdom that died and lives." Melisande laughed without mirth. "Drujan. Jahanadar, the land of fires. Ptolemy Dikaios feared it, I know that much, and he is a learned man. It lies under the rule of Khebbel-im-Akkad now, had you heard?"

"No."

"It seems they surrendered peaceably." She eyed me. "Passing strange, when even the Khalif s formidable army feared to cross its borders. So, I understand, did Lord Amaury's men."

I said nothing.

Melisande sighed. "What of the men who harmed my son?"

"They are dead."

Her face hardened. "You swear to it?"

"Yes." I thought of Imriel, checking time and again to make certain that the Kereyit Tatar warlord Jagun was dead; and I thought of Mahrk-agir's heart beating beneath my hand, his brilliant, trusting eyes as I positioned the hairpin against his breast. "I swear to it."

"You took my son to Jebe-Barkal."

"Yes." I crossed over to the low table where a tray of refreshments sat ignored, pouring myself a glass of wine. My mouth was dry with fear. "I did."

"Why?"

Her gaze was sharper than Kaneka's hairpins. I kept my face neutral as I sat on the couch opposite her and sipped my wine. "Do you know, he followed us? He pulled one of your own tricks, my lady, trading cloaks with a Tyrean serving-lad. Elua knows what Lord Amaury made of it when he discovered it."

"You could have sent him back."

"Shall we play a game?" I asked softly, curling into a corner of the couch. "Yes, my lady, we could have. But it would have cost me a season's wait, while my friend Hyacinthe, my one true friend, descends slowly into madness. That's why I went, remember? That's why I ac cepted your bargain. And in the end, Imriel too had a part to play."

"You found what you sought."

I gazed at Melisande, feeling the Name of God present on the tip of my tongue, sounding in the throb of my blood. It was there, written in the immaculate geometry of her features, in the framework of bone and the flesh that sheathed it, a fearful beauty. "Yes," I said. "I did."

Never, never show your hand. It is the first law of barter, of games of skill. And it is not my strength, which lies in yielding. It was hard, so hard to wait, to hold her gaze. But I did, and it was Melisande who looked away first. "And now you will give my son to Ysandre," she murmured.

I took another sip of wine. "That, my lady, depends upon you."

Her eyes blazed, and the color rose in her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

"I will tell you," I said, "what I offer. And I will tell you what I require in return. I am willing, my lady, to adopt Imriel into mine own household. And as such . . ." My voice caught in my throat. "Ah, Mel isande! I can't make him love you. You poisoned that well yourself, long before he was born. But I can promise that he will be left free to make his own choices, and I will not turn him against you, not wittingly. If you wish to correspond with him, I will see your missives delivered. Whether or not he reads them is up to him. One day, he may be willing to hear your story. If it is so, I will let him. I would allow him choice. That is what I offer."

"Ysandre would never permit it."

"She would," I said, "if I claimed it as the boon she owes me. I hold the Companion's Star, my lady. It was seen and witnessed by the flower of D'Angeline nobility. It is the one thing Ysandre cannot re fuse."

Melisande studied me. "Why?"

I touched the hollow of my bare throat, where once her diamond had lain. "Why did you pay the price of my marque, so long ago? Why did you set me free?"

A distant smile flickered over her features. "To see what you would do."

"Even so." I nodded. "I would see what Imriel would do, what he would become, were he free to choose. After what he has endured, it is the least he deserves. But I have my own safety to consider, and that of those who are beholden to me."

"The Cassiline," Melisande said dryly.

"Among others," I said. "Yes, Joscelin first of all, but there are others. Ti-Philippe, my chevalier . . . you remember him, my lady? His comrades were slain on Prince Benedicte's orders. And there is Eugenie, my Mistress of the Household, and others, in Montrève . . . my sene schal, Purnell Friote and his wife Richeline, and others, too many to count. I am fond of your son, Melisande; passing fond. But while you plot against the throne, we are all in danger of being accused of conspiracy. I will not jeopardize them on his behalf. I require safeguards."

That was the lie, the bluff. I delivered it unblinking, and Melisande's gaze searched my face. "You said there was a price," she said at length.

It was all I could do to keep from sighing with relief.

"Two things," I said, holding up two fingers. "One: You will swear to me, in Kushiel's name, that you will do naught to jeopardize the lives of Ysandre de la Courcel and her daughters. Two: You will make no attempt to leave this place, but will live out your days in sanctuary, seeking only penitence and not worship."

Melisande laughed.

I waited.

"Ah, Phèdre!" Leaning forward, she brushed my cheek with her fingertips. Her touch stung like a lash, and I closed my eyes against it. "One," Melisande said tenderly, her voice redolent of smoke and honey. "Two conditions have you set me, Phèdre. Do you take my son, and raise him without teaching him to hate me more than he does now, I will grant you one. Only one. And the choosing of it is yours."

It was hard not to lean into her touch. It stirred me, stirred things in me I had not felt since Daršanga. I had thought, after that, I might never yearn for such tender cruelty again. I was wrong. Melisande's scent surrounded me, clouding my faculties. Even the Sacred Name itself blurred under her fingers, turning to incomprehensible syllables, my tongue grown thick with desire. I wanted to touch her, to taste her, to kneel at her feet.

"The first," I said, feeling the pulse beating betwixt my thighs. "On Kushiel's name. Swear you will not raise your hand, nor any other's, against Ysandre and her daughters."

"I swear it." Melisande withdrew her hand. "In Kushiel's name, I swear it."

I stood, feeling giddy. "Then I will raise your son as my own, my lady."

"So be it."

I got halfway to the door before her voice stopped me.

"Why did you do it?" Melisande asked, holding me with her won dering gaze. "Surely, you had done all that was in your power, and more. My oath didn't bind you unto near-certain death. You had your quest, and the key to the Name of God. Why did you abandon it to walk alone, with only that mad Cassiline to protect you, into a land even the most hardened Akkadian warrior feared? Was it only to free my son?"

I paused, and shook my head. "No, my lady. My oath took me to Khebbel-im-Akkad, no further. For the rest, I can say only that it was Elua's will, and part of a pattern more vast than I could have guessed. All of it. There was . . . there was somewhat in Drujan that Ptolemy Dikaios was right to fear, a shadow that might have fallen over us all, had it lived. But it is gone, now. A great ill has been averted. This would not have happened if I had not gone."

Melisande's face was very still. "Then Imriel did not suffer in vain."

"No," I said, and shook my head again, pitying her against my will. "Not wholly, my lady, and not only in retribution for your crimes. There was a purpose to it greater than Kushiel's justice alone."

Her eyes closed, and her lips moved in a prayer of thanksgiving. It was not a thing meant for me to see, and I turned once more to go.

"Phèdre."

After all these years and all that I knew of her, my name on her lips still brought me up short. Melisande might as well have had me on a lead. I stood despairing and watched as she rose from the couch, crossing to approach me. Squares of winter sunlight lay upon the marble floor, and sunlight gleamed on the Veil of Asherat, drawn back to lie in a glittering net on her blue-black hair. Her hands, pale as ivory, with long tapering fingers, rose to cup my face with infinite tenderness and the promise of immaculate cruelty. Caught between the desire to flee and to stay, I caught my breath, my heart beating too fast, erratic.

"Phèdre." Melisande smiled, her eyes as deep blue and fathomless as the evening sky. "You're a dreadful liar."

I drew in a shaking breath, trembling under her touch. "I've never lied to you."

"No?" The corners of her lovely mouth curled with amusement. "Let us say then that there are certain things you failed to mention, such as the attempts upon Imriel’s life made in Khebbel-im-Akkad. As for the rest, I will say only this. One day—not soon, but one day— tell my son that this bargain I have made with you today is my gift to him, the only one he would accept from me. And I, I will rest easier in the knowledge that he will be safer with you and your Cassiline than anywhere in the City of Elua, for you will permit no dangerous intrigues under your roof, and the two of you will protect him to the death." She looked at my expression and laughed. "Oh, Phèdre! Did you think I would not see that he loves you, and is loved in turn? Even Joscelin sought to protect him from me. And you . . . my dear, you could no sooner turn away love than you could erase the prick of Kushiel's Dart from your eye."