Kushiel's Chosen

reluctant to use siege engines against the jewel of Terre d'Ange. It is his hope that the City will surrender and give over your uncle when Prince Benedicte arrives."
    "Prince Benedicte isn't coming, my lord," I said softly. "You guessed rightly when you guessed I went hunting traitors. I found them."
    He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy. "Prince Benedicte?"
    "Yes." I felt pity for him; he would take it hard, having served already under one traitor. "He was one. I sought the missing guardsmen of Troyes-le-Mont, do you remember? I found them in La Serenissima, in the Little Court of Benedicte de la Courcel."
    Tarren d'Eltoine was not a slow-witted man. He looked at me with a flat gaze. "Who sent his couriers to Lord Percy, the Royal Commander, and not the Queen's chosen regent.”
    "Yes, my lord," I said. "I am sorry."
    "You are certain?"
    "We are certain," Ysandre interposed in her cool voice, though there was compassion in her expression. "It was Percy de Somerville who enabled Melisande Shahrizai's escape." And she told him, then, the whole of the story, beginning with de Somerville's complicity in the schemes of Lyonette de Trevalion, all the way through Melisande's blackmail, her deception in La Serenissima, Prince Benedicte's betrayal, the plots of the Stregazza, David de Rocaille's attempted revenge for his sister's long-ago death, and the missing heir, Imriel de la Courcel.
    D'Eltoine's mien grew stony with gathering anger, reflected in the faces of all the Unforgiven. "Majesty," he said when she had finished. "My couriers are at your disposal. They will carry this story the length of Camlach, and to Eisheth, to Namarre, to Siovale, that you might begin raising an army to move against Lord Percy-"
    "No." Ysandre shook her head. "While I am Queen, I will not instigate civil war in Terre d'Ange. I ride to the City of Elua, Captain, to claim my throne."
    He stared at her; behind me, I could hear Amaury Trente heave a sigh. "What would you have me do, majesty?" d'Eltoine asked, bewildered.
    I stepped forward. "My lord Captain," I said formally. "You told me once that the Unforgiven had sworn to obey Kushiel's chosen. This thing I ask, in Kushiel's name: That your company lead her majesty the Queen to me City of Elua."
    "Leave the borders?" Tarren d'Eltoine blanched. "Comtesse, we have sworn an oath to Camael as well, to ward the passes against the Skaldi for as long as we shall live. Do you ask us to abandon this trust?"
    "You have other recruits to man the garrisons, and the Skaldi have retreated far from our borders," I said to him. "The threat to the realm lies now at its heart, my lord, and the path to your redemption lies in facing betrayal, not the Skaldi.”
    He looked away from me, murmuring, "What you ask is hard, anguissette."
    "Yes." Though I ached for his pain, I did not waver. "I know."
    For a long moment, he said nothing, then gave at last a brusque nod. "Majesty," he said to Ysandre. "Grant me a day, to assemble the Unforgiven. We will escort you to the City of Elua."
    So it was decided, and riders set out within the hour, racing north to carry word to the garrisons' relay stations. I knew well how swiftly the Black Shields could muster. For our part, we took our ease as best we could in the confines of Southfort and beyond, establishing a campsite for the bulk of Amaury Trente's guard.
    With a decision made and a plan to implement-even a foolhardy one-our spirits were strengthened. It was, after all, somewhat of a homecoming; and we were D'Angeline. Kegs of wine were brought forth and heated in vast kettles above the hearth, mulled with spices, to be shared among guardsmen and soldiers alike, and those few of us who were neither. One of the grey-haired ex-soldiers who served as a steward to the garrison brought out a lap-harp in fairly good tune, and Marie de Flairs and Vivienne Neldor took turns at singing and playing. Ysandre's ladies-in-waiting had endured the journey without complaint, and I had come to admire them both. I daresay their efforts did a good deal to raise the spirits of the Camaeline soldiery, still reeling from our news. We who had been on the road had had longer to become accustomed to it.
    Ysandre was closeted with Captain d'Eltoine, Lord Trente and their various subcommanders, plotting a detailed course of action. I did not regret being excluded from these strategies, being content to leave it to the heads of state for once.
    as the evening wore