Kushiel's Dart

courtesy than I'd been brought with. The Queen of Terre d'Ange had apologized to me; it was something to note.
    In the first flush of victory, I had regarded everyone who had fought at Troyes-le-Mont as friend and ally. When the politicking set in later, I regained a measure of perspective. But after Melisande's flight, it changed, and I could look at no one in the same light.
    One of us was a traitor.
    The mystery went unresolved in the end. Wherever Melisande Shah-rizai had gone, and whoever had aided her, their complicity was buried deep enough that it was never uncovered. And there was a realm to be governed, and a wedding planned. Riders continued to issue forth from Troyes-le-Mont, canvassing the breadth of the nation. Melisande would find no welcome on D'Angeline soil.
    It was enough. It would have to be enough.
    In a formal ceremony of thanks, Ysandre de la Courcel restored the sovereignty of the fortress to the Duchese de Troyes-le-Mont, who had evacuated her holdings to spend the battle safe under the hospitality of Roxanne de Mereliot, the Lady of Marsilikos. A considerable portion of the Skaldi ransom would go to restoring the estate and compensating the folk of Troyes-le-Mont for their losses; some would go to paying the army's retainers, and the remainder to making good against the swath of devastation the Skaldi had cut through Namarre, including the restoration of Naamah's temples.
    I was glad to hear it, having not forgotten the priestess of Naamah who had saved me in the Skaldi encampment. These things, Ysandre faced with a pragmatic fortitude, setting herself resolutely to dealing with them.
    Grapes were beginning to hang heavy on the vine when we shifted our encampment, beginning the long triumphal journey south to Terre d'Ange.
    Of all the journeys I have made, though this was one of the shortest, surely it was the most glorious. Encumbered by a goodly number of D'Angeline troops and the whole of the Alban army, our progress was slow, for the folk of Terre d'Ange turned out the whole length of the way, throwing blossoms in Ysandre's path and cheering her as their Queen. They cheered Drustan, too, who rode beside her, coming to stare at his blue features, and staying to shout and throw petals.
    Among the Cruithne and the Dalriada-the quick, dark folk of the Cullach Gorrym, the fair Eidlach Or, the brawny Tarbh Cro and the tall Fhalair Ban-not a one had departed for Alba's shores, waiting on the promised wedding that would bond our two peoples and open the Straits for good. I rode often alongside Grainne's chariot on that journey, to let her know that Eammon's loss was not forgotten; not by me, at least.
    I said nothing of the bloodstained sack that swung from her chariot. The Dalriada have their own superstitions. Eamonn's body lay buried in the fields of Troyes-le-Mont; if his sister wished to ensure that his head would watch forevermore over the seat of the Dalriada in Innisclan, it was not my place to gainsay it. Drustan knew, I think; all the Cruithne did. I never told Ysandre, though.
    So we came at last to the City of Elua, which had been long weeks preparing for our arrival, and rode in triumph through her streets, while the whole of the City turned out to greet us.
    It was a strangeness to me, to ride in that procession. Only once before had I witnessed a military triumph in the City of Elua. It had been the day of Alcuin's debut, and I remembered it well. How I had watched, from the terrace of Cecilie Laveau-Perrin's townhouse, those who had passed; so many of them dead. The Lioness of Azzalle and Baudoin de Trevalion, at whose side Melisande had ridden. Ysandre with her grandfather, Ganelon de la Courcel. And oh, the Allies of Camlach, with Isidore d'Aiglemort at their head. It had seemed so clear and orderly, seeing it from above.
    Nothing is as it appears from beyond.
    And Anafiel Delaunay had been alive that day, winning at kottabos .
    And Alcuin, Alcuin who had borne the auction of his virginity with such dignity.
    I could not explain the tears that pricked my eyes as we rode in triumph through the City of Elua. Most took them for tears of joy for a safe homecoming, and I let it stand, the feeling running too deep in me for words.
    Decimated by sickness and war, the City had room enough to hold us all; common soldiers in the barracks, and Alban nobles housed within the Palace. I had no home, but Ysandre retained me in her service, giving me a suite of rooms within the Palace itself,