Kushiel's Chosen

feeling her bones as frail as a grasshopper. "Blessed Elua keep thee, old mother. It is time for me to go home."
    So it was that our audience ended and I left the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea for the last time, following my Queen out of the shadow of its domes into the waiting sunlight. I had kept my vow, made in the watery depths. It was finished, and I felt no victory, only loss and confusion. Members of the Queen's party were tired and frustrated, balked by the Temple's protection of Melisande and fearful of what lay before us.
    And yet, with undaunted strength, Ysandre de la Courcel raised her head, gazing unerringly in the direction of home.
    "You spoke truly," she said. "We ride for Terre d'Ange."

SEVENTY-EIGHT
    It took yet another day to make ready our departure.
    There was no time for me to seek out Kazan at the Illyrian Ambassador's; I had guessed aright, on that score. I did see Severio Stregazza, who was present at the Little Court to consult with the Vicomte de Cherevin. Although Ysandre had deferred judgement on the matter, it was tacitly assumed that the claim would eventually be settled in Severio's favor.
    It was an awkward meeting, though I was glad he requested it.
    "I cannot exactly thank you for bringing destruction to my family, Phèdre nó Delaunay."
    "I know," I murmured. "I would that it had been otherwise, Severio. But-"
    He cut me off with a gesture. "I know. What my father did was treason. What my mother did was blasphemy. By the grace of Asherat or Elua or Baal-Jupiter, or whosoever watches over me, I am enough unlike them to hate them for it. And yet they are my parents, and I was raised to honor them." He sighed. "You did what was right and necessary. I only wish it had not been."
    "What will happen to them?"
    "Imprisonment is likely." Severio shrugged. "Perhaps exile. It depends on the Judiciary Tribunal's findings, on the mood of the people and the Consiglio Maggiore, my grandfather's wrath, and too," he added quietly, "it depends on Terre d'Ange."
    I knew what he was thinking, although neither of us said it. Marco and Marie-Celeste were not accused of plotting to kill the Doge, merely to supplant him. Their part in the conspiracy to assassinate the Queen of Terre d'Ange was a graver charge. But if matters went ill at home ... if Ysandre lost the throne, no D'Angeline voice would call for Serenissiman justice. It would be Percy de Somerville who ruled, in the name of the rightful heir, Prince Benedicte's son. And if he called for anything, it would likely be the freedom of the infant heir's wrongfully accused mother. 'Twas no wonder Melisande was prepared to wait.
    "Terre d'Ange stands under the rule of Ysandre de la Courcel," was all I said.
    "Truly, I hope so. I am weary of intrigue tearing my loyalties asunder." Severio took my hand, face somber. He had grown a great deal from the rough-tongued young nobleman I'd met at the Palace. "Phèdre, I do not know if events to come will make enemies or allies of us. If Ysandre falls ... I must stand with La Serenissima, and the city will follow where profit lies. Whosoever rules Terre d'Ange, trade must continue. But know that I will always think fondly of you, and I am sorry for what passed between us before."
    "I owe you my life," I said to him. "For that, among other things, I will always be grateful, Prince Severio."
    At that he smiled, a little bit. "You taught me to be proud of my D'Angeline heritage, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and to gaze at those parts of myself I despised without fear. It would not, I think, have been so ill a marriage." Bowing, Severio released my hand. "Luck to you, my lady," he said softly. "And warn your Queen not to look to the Doge over-long for support. Once she's left Serenissiman soil, Grandfather will wait to see how matters play out."
    I'd never doubted it; but then, Severio was a slow learner in the family business of intrigue. I prayed he remained thus, for he was a better person for it. "Thank you, my lord, and Blessed Elua keep you in his regard."
    This was my final farewell in the city of La Serenissima, for we departed the next day at dawn, escorted on the Doge's mighty ships to the D'Angeline encampment on the mainland. My heart swelled to see the bright silken tents with all their pennants fluttering, glossy-hided horses at pasture, hundreds of D'Angeline faces waiting expectantly!
    So many ... and yet so few, when one reckoned the odds. The entourage of the progressus regalis numbered a mere seven