With the shock of horror one feels only in dreams, I realized that I was not in Delaunay's home at all, but Cereus House; not a child, but an adept, late for the Midwinter Masque. My costume was unfinished, and I had no mask. Despairing, I hurried to join the fête, thinking I might find Favrielle nó Eglantine and beg her to loan me a mask.

The Great Hall of Cereus House was filled with light and gaiety, and all the adepts of the Thirteen Houses in their finery, and I had come in time to see the Sun Prince revealed. I was laughing, then, thinking everything would be well, and wondering what foolishness had possessed me to imagine I should have been studying with Alcuin, when this, yes of course, this was my life, laughing and cheering as the Winter Queen was unmasked as the beautiful Suriah, who had always been kind to me.

That was when I realized the Sun Prince was Waldemar Selig.

No one else noticed, as he took off his mask, smiling, half a head taller than anyone there; no one noticed, as he ran Suriah through with the Sun Prince's gilded spear and she sank to the dais, mouth open and eyes blank, hands clutching around the haft as a dark stain spread across her breast. Waldemar Selig stepped down, wolfskin cloak swinging from his shoulders, and the D'Angeline revelers smiled and bowed and moved out of the way, while the musicians struck up a merry reel.

My scream caught in my throat, struggling for air; dancers swept past me, bright and glittering-and Delaunay, my lord Delaunay was among them. Almost, I got out his name; then he turned, and I saw he held Melisande Shahrizai in his arms, smiling down at her. And Melisande looked past him, over his shoulder, across the crowded hall, to meet my eyes, and the shock of her beauty turned my knees to water. And she smiled at me.

I knew. She knew. And I was too late.

The voice that woke me, reciting the details of the dream, ragged with panic, was my own. I took a deep, gasping breath, half-choking on it, and knew myself to be awake in the chambers of Gentian House. Like an echo in my memory, I could hear Raphael Murain's soft murmur winding through the dream, drawing the account of it from my unwilling lips. I sat upright in the bed, willing the pounding of my heart to slow and waiting for my vision to clear.

When it did, I saw Raphael kneeling at the bedside, his face quiet and composed. "Do you want me to tell it to you?" he asked gently.

"No." I passed my hands blindly over my face and shuddered. "I remember."

"It is often so, when the dream is caught in the making." Rising gracefully, he turned open the shuttered lamps, letting their soft glow brighten the room, and poured me a glass. "Watered wine. Drink it, it will do you good."

I obeyed unthinking, gulping the cool liquid, which soothed my throat and nerves. Raphael sat back on his heels and regarded me.

"It is an easy dream to interpret," he said in his soft voice. "You are putting off a hard choice, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and only ill can come of it. If you wish, we may explore this dream together, and learn what is this choice you fear."

"That won't be necessary." I laughed shortly, and felt myself tremble a little. "I already know." It was not so much easier, after all, to face it waking. I did, and knew fear, smiling crookedly at Raphael Murain nó Gentian. "You see, I have to go to La Serenissima."

TWENTY-FIVE

Though I did not think I would be able to sleep after that nightmare, in time, I did; and that, too, was due to the gift of Raphael, who bid me stay when I would have gone, using his calm presence and soft voice to weave a spell to catch slumber. I slept without dreaming, and in it regained a measure of the ease the night's pleasure had afforded. In the morning, I was glad I had stayed.

Before I left, I knelt before him, placing two fingers against his lips. "Naamah's Servant, in her name, I bid you keep her secrets. Do you understand?"

Raphael nodded against my fingers. There were violet smudges of weariness beneath his eyes; this process took a toll on him. "It is a sacrosanct law of Gentian House. You need not fear. I have taken an oath." His expression changed, lightening a shade as he smiled at me. "Anyway, I would never betray your dreams. It must be difficult," he added gently, "to have feelings for a patron that conflict so deeply."

I did not need to ask who he meant. "Yes," I said, a tremor in my voice, more grateful than I could say. There was a tremendous relief in uttering the words, in the one place it would not draw suspicion upon me. "Yes. It is." And to that, Raphael Murain said nothing, but merely understood. "Thank you." I kissed him lightly, and went to leave a purse of coin, my patron's gift to him, on the night-stand. There is an item they use in the Night Court for the purpose-Naamah's Hands, we called it, a sculpture carved to resemble a stylized pair of cupping hands. Raphael's was of pale, translucent jade. He had prospered in Naamah's Service, I was thinking as I set down the purse, and well he should.

"My lady!" His voice rang like an untuned lyre, and ] turned to see a stricken look on his face. "Please. I cannot accept a patron-gift from you!"

"Why?" I asked curiously. "You have opened my dream to me like a book."

Standing, Raphael Murain nó Gentian shifted and ran a hand through his shining hair. "You paid the fee of the House," he said awkwardly. "For the rest, it was gift enough to serve." Seeing me hesitate, he gave that sweet smile so reminiscent of Alcuin. "I will only give it in offering to Naamah. Better you should do it, and speak my name. I would have her hear it from your lips." "Then I will," I promised.

In the courtyard of Gentian House, Fortun glanced at my face and asked me no questions, which was well. Freed of the oppressive weight of my nightmares, I felt my mind keen and sharp again. Upon returning home, I went immediately to my study and drafted a note to Ysandre, begging a meeting with her and Drustan, sealing it with a blot of red wax and the impress of the official signet of Montrève. I dispatched Remy with it forthwith, giving him explicit instructions. "If you cannot gain access directly to the Queen, try the Cruarch. Drustan's guard will make allowances for a veteran of Troyes-le-Mont. Only to her or him, mind! No one else, not even one of her Cassilines."

"I understand," Remy said solemnly, bowing; when he raised his head, his eyes gleamed. "Are we bound for trouble, my lady?"

"We will be, if you don't do exactly as I say, and quietly," I threatened him. He just laughed, bowed again and left. I don't know why I worried about Raphael Murain's discretion, with retainers like Phèdre's Boys.

For all my concerns, Remy carried out my instructions faithfully. I daresay Ysandre was intrigued; at any rate, she granted my request almost immediately, making time in her schedule and sending a royal coach to escort me into the joint presence of the regents of Terre d'Ange and Alba. A private audience in truth, neither servants nor guards nor Cassilines in attendance.

"Well?" Ysandre asked, raising her eyebrows.

Taking a deep breath, I began, telling her the whole story, beginning with Gonzago de Escabares bringing me the san-goire cloak, and leaving out none of the details I had omitted in the Hall of Portraits. Melisande's challenge, and all my quest thereafter, all the suspicions I harbored, and the winding path I'd taken in pursuing them.

When I had done, both of them were troubled and thoughtful.

"It would ease my mind," Ysandre said slowly, "if you had some proof of your suspicions, Phèdre. If there were cause, I would not hesitate to pursue it... Trevalion, the de Somervilles, even my own uncle. I would summon the Prefect of the Cassiline Brotherhood before the throne if I thought there was cause. But what you tell me is guesswork, and nothing more. I will not act on supposition, not even yours."

I had not expected her to; only to heed my warning. "There is the cloak."

"Yes," Ysandre said wryly. "There is. I should tell you, I have had a correspondence from my great-uncle, Prince Benedicte de la Courcel. Did you know I dispatched couriers to him after Marmion's hearing?" She looked sharply at me, and I shook my head. "I did. And he has scoured La Ser-enissima, and found no trace of Melisande. Indeed, he invites me to make the Caerdicci progressus regalis ere winter, that the city may receive me as Queen of Terre d'Ange."

"Why doesn't Benedicte come here to acknowledge

you?" I asked.

Ysandre rested chin on hand and gazed at me. "It is customary for the D'Angeline ruler to make a progressus, to renew alliances with the Caerdicci city-states. My grandfather did it as a boy; it's not been done for decades. Not in either of our lifetimes. Mayhap if it had, they'd have been quicker to aid us against the Skaldi. Benedicte is right, I can't afford to let those ties lapse. At any rate," she added quieüy, "his new wife has just been delivered of a son, and he's not minded to travel."

"My lady," I said, "that may all be true, but from what Severio told me, La Serenissima is a knot of intrigue. Even Prince Benedicte didn't know his own daughter and son-in-law were guilty of poisoning your mother."

The Queen's eyebrows rose again. "And did Severio Stregazza tell you Melisande Shahrizai was in La Serenissima?" she asked with deceptive mildness. It made my blood run

cold.

"My lady," I whispered. "I would have told you if he had. No. He did not know her, and I believe he spoke the truth. Marmion plagued him, and he didn't know why. I promise you, if I had the least corroborating proof of any of this, I'd have come to you.”

Drustan kept his silence, watching us both.

Ysandre sighed. "So. You suspect the Lord Commander, his son Ghislain, Gaspar Trevalion-whom even Delaunay trusted-and my uncle the Duc, who saved your life. Also the Cassiline Brotherhood, whose service has been beyond reproach for centuries. You believe Melisande Shahrizai is in La Serenissima, despite the fact that you received this information at third hand, obviously by her own devising, and no Serenissiman has laid eyes upon her."

"Yes." I had to admit, it sounded insane to my own ears. "My lady..." I said reluctantly. "I cannot ask you to believe me. But I know Melisande. If she wanted me to think she is in La Serenissima, it is because she is in La Serenissima. I have come to a blind alley, here. It is there I need to go."

It was Drustan who spoke at last, frowning. "I do not like it either, Phèdre nó Delaunay. But it is in my thoughts that this is the voice of your dreams you feared to heed."

I nodded.

Ysandre looked dourly at me. "Last time, you brought me a heap of stinking hides, a Skaldi dagger and a Tsingani fortune-teller. This time, a velvet cloak and a dream. What next? A kerchief and a worrisome feeling?" I bit my tongue and did not answer. "Very well. It is my profound hope that you're wrong this time, but I'm not fool enough to wager on it, nor to try and stop you. What do you want of us?"

I told them my plan. Drustan looked amused, although Ysandre did not. Nonetheless, she agreed to it.

When I made my obeisance and would have left, she called me back in a different tone. "Phèdre." I turned and met her violet eyes, dark with concern. "Anaflel Delaunay was my ally when I had no other around me who did not seek to use me. I called upon his oath, and he died of it. We are at peace, now, and I hold the throne unchallenged. The army is in my hand, and no province but that acknowledges my sovereignty. Drustan mab Necthana is my acknowledged husband and brings with him the sovereign might of Alba. Skaldia's reign is as divided as ever it was before the ascendance of Waldemar Selig, Aragonia gives alliance, and no single Caerdicci city-state has the might to challenge us. When I sent you to Alba, I was desperate; now, Terre d'Ange is in a position of great strength. Yes, I would rest easier if Melisande Shahrizai were dealt with, but whatever she is about, it cannot pose a threat so grave it is worth risking your life."

I paused. "Mayhap. But whoever aided her stands close to the throne."

"And if they did it for blackmail's sake, like as not they pray every day to Elua that I never find it out," Ysandre said grimly. "I am telling you, it is not worth the risk. There is enough blood spilled at the doorstep of House Courcel. I don't want yours added to it."

Like as not she was right; but there was the dream, and the bone-deep terror of it. Would that Hyacinthe or his mother had been there, or any Tsingani who could speak the dromonde, because I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I was not wrong. "I will be careful," I promised.

"Good." Ysandre settled back, and added one last codicil. "If you will not let me give you an honor guard, you will at least take your men-at-arms, and that stubborn Cassiline."

I opened my mouth, and closed it, swallowing. "I... am not sure if Joscelin will go."

Drustan started at that, but Ysandre's look turned flinty. "He swore his sword unto my service when he renounced Cassiel's. He will go, or be forsworn. And I do not hold lightly with oath-breakers."

"I will tell him," I murmured, wondering how he would take it.

With that, I was dismissed.

I did not tell Joscelin or my chevaliers immediately, but set about making the arrangements. I paid a visit first of all to my factor, to explain my desire to travel to La Serenissima to oversee firsthand my investments there. After some searching, he found for me an interest in a shipment of Alban lead, bound from Marsilikos to La Serenissima in a fortnight's time, which suited my needs perfectly. One part of my plan I had withheld even from Ysandre.

Thelesis de Momay, who had known what I was about from the beginning, did what Ysandre had requested, and I met with her to review the list of Cassiline Brothers on active duty at the Palace. "Etienne de Chardin, Brys nó Rinforte, Lisle Arnot, David no Rinforte, Jean de Laurenne ..." Scanning the list, I glanced up at Thelesis. "Why so many adopted into Lord Rinforte's household?"