Kushiel's Chosen

just.
    "It is heard and acknowledged," Ysandre said quietly, and there was compassion in her gaze. "My lords and ladies of Terre d'Ange, let us go home."
    Barquiel L'Envers met us at the gates of the City, where something of a sombre mood had begun to settle after the initial rejoicing; there would be no triumph to celebrate this victory, only a low murmur as they exchanged the kiss of greeting. I do not know what words they spoke. When they parted, L'Envers glanced at me, a trace of the old, familiar irony glinting in his eye.
    "Delaunay's anguissette" he acknowledged me. "You send a timely message."
    "I am glad you heeded it, my lord," I said politely.
    "Your wording was rather persuasive." He raised his brows. "Ysandre, will you reclaim your throne? I find the stewardship of it an onerous task."
    Thus did the Queen of Terre d'Ange return to the City of Elua. The streets were thronged with people, and many of them wept openly as she passed. They had believed her dead these many days, for de Somerville had kept the rumor of her return from reaching the beleaguered City. It is a profound testament to the will and leadership of Barquiel L'Envers that he managed to maintain order in the City and hold the loyalty of the Palace and City Guards throughout the siege. My Kritian message had arrived scant days before Melisande's couriers, but it had come accompanied by a contingent of Eisandine troops sent by Roxanne de Mereliot, who urged him in strongest terms to act swiftly to secure the City. This he had done, sending to Namarre for a company of his own Akkadian-trained men and setting a watch on Champs-de-Guerre. When the Royal Army began to mobilize, L'Envers' spies fled to the City at breakneck pace and the gates were closed and sealed.
    All these things I learned over time; then, there was simply too much to be done for the stories to unfold. Percy de Somerville was taken into custody, along with his chief lieutenants and subcommanders, for of a surety, some few of them must have known. Ysandre appointed Barquiel L'Envers to serve as Royal Commander pro tem, and supervise the military trials of the officers; being a peer of the realm, de Somerville would be tried before the assembled Parliament, like the family of House Trevalion long ago.
    It was Marc de Trevalion, I learned, who had suspected Lord Percy's complicity when word of the Queen's death and the siege mounted against the City had reached Azzalle, and it was he who told his son-in-law Ghislain as much. He had known what Melisande had known, though he'd had no proof of it; that Percy de Somerville had vowed to support Lyonette de Trevalion's bid to place Prince Baudoin on the throne. Would that he had spoken of it sooner, for it would have saved a great deal of grief. I suppose at the time he thought it was ancient history and would have caused only pain, with his daughter wed to de Somerville's son. He would have been right, too, if not for Melisande.
    Whether or not it ever occurred to Marc de Trevalion to suspect de Somerville in her escape, I cannot say. He was not there, at Troyes-le-Mont. He says it did not, and Ghislain believes him. After all, he would have had no reason to suspect Melisande even knew of de Somerville's complicity-save the fact that she is Melisande. It would have been enough for me ... but then, I know her too well. Ysandre accepted his word; I do not know if she believed it. Enough to let it rest, I daresay.
    Ysandre held an audience for those L'Agnacite villagers who had followed our company, learning their names, thanking each in person; to each one, she gave a gift, a gold ducat stamped with her image, sewn in a velvet purse with the Courcel insignia. There are cynics who claim she did it out of political expedience, for there was bound to be unrest in L'Agnace with the arrest of its much-loved Duc de Somerville, but I, who had seen the tears in her eyes when they came to join us, knew otherwise.
    There was a private ceremony commending the service of the Unforgiven. Ysandre would have done more, for they were deserving-and too, it would aid in restoring the good name of the former Allies of Camlach-but they refused it to a man. I was there, when she gave them her thanks and blessing, and offered prayers for the dead. Ten had died, one in twenty. It had not been an entirely bloodless victory.
    "Was it well done, Kushiel's chosen?" Tarren d'Eltoine asked me.
    "It was well done, my lord," I replied.
    And I thought on old Bianca's