Kushiel's Mercy

this. The wounds my mother caused cut too deep, and there are no words that will sway the wounded heart of Terre d’Ange, only deeds.”
    “Deeds,” he echoed, his expression sharpening. “You speak of deeds?”
    “Yes, my lord. One deed in particular.” I took a deep, shaking breath. “There is a burden ahead of me I have to shoulder if I am to prove myself to the Queen and the realm. And I will. I’ll try. But Blessed Elua, I’m tired !” I laughed humorlessly, raking my hands through my hair. “In a scant twenty-one years, I’ve lived enough for three lifetimes. Is it so much to ask for a small respite?”
    Brother Thomas studied me. “You know the burden you face? This deed you have not named?”
    “Yes, my lord,” I said wearily. “Of course I know. Somewhere in my heart, I suppose I’ve always known.”
    Unexpectedly, the Priest of Kushiel rose. “What I have heard suffices,” he said, his voice muffled by the mask. He bowed in my direction, sunlight glinting off the bronze planes.
    “He speaks the truth of his heart.”
    “I concur.” Naamah’s priest and the Priestess of Eisheth spoke simultaneously, rising and exchanging laughing glances. “It may be there is healing in it,” Eisheth’s priestess added.
    The Priest of Naamah smiled at me. “Of a surety, there is desire.”
    Shemhazai’s priest leveled a shrewd, thoughtful gaze at me, then stood. “Yes,” he said. “I cannot fathom the wisdom of it, not yet. But I do not deny the knowledge.”
    “I see no harm here,” Anael’s priestess said simply, rising.
    Azza’s priest stood, tossing his chlamys over his shoulder. “If it is pride that speaks, it is earned,” he said. “No more can I say.”
    The last to rise was the Priest of Camael. He was the oldest among them, with a warrior’s posture that belied his lined face and age-silvered hair. “I like this least among you,” he said slowly. “For there is too much in it that threatens the strength of Terre d’Ange. But I will not say he does not speak true, and that is all you have asked of me.”
    “So be it,” Brother Thomas said.
    One by one, they inclined their heads to him and departed. I got to my feet and watched them go, my heart feeling at once heavy and light. I had spoken the truth, but it was a cruel, harsh truth, and not one I welcomed. Love came at a price. If Terre d’Ange was not to bear the cost of it, I would have to do it. The deed that had been left unspoken. “Is that all, then?” I asked the priest. “What happens now?”
    “It is enough,” he said somberly. “And what happens now depends entirely on the will of her majesty Queen Ysandre.”

Three
    We found out soon enough what Ysandre willed.
    Brother Thomas served us better than I would have reckoned. He paid a visit to the Palace with a dozen members of the temple in tow, serene priests and priestesses in their blue robes and bare feet. The Queen granted them a private audience. What was said in her chambers, no one knew for sure, but all had seen them arrive.
    Speculation swirled, and a day after the meeting, Ysandre announced that there would be a public audience in the throne hall at three hours past noon on the morrow.
    “Do you think she’ll heed their advice?” I asked Sidonie.
    “Elua, I hope so,” she said fervently.
    “And if she doesn’t?” I watched her expression change. “I know it’s your choice, Sidonie.
    But I have a voice in it.”
    “You have a very pleasant voice.” She kissed me. “Not in this.”
    “We’ll see,” I said.
    The audience was enormous. The throne hall was a vast space, big enough to swallow up the two hundred chairs placed toward the front of the room for peers of the realm. There were at least three hundred peers in attendance, and many hundreds more ordinary citizens, jostling for standing room.
    It was easy to see the realm was divided. Sidonie and I were seated in the first realm of peers to the right of the Queen, as was befitting our status. Those who chose to sit or stand on the right side were allies and supporters. House Montrève, of course. House Shahrizai. Sidonie’s personal guard. My old friends Julien Trente and his sister, Colette, now wed to Raul L’Envers y Aragon, who was also there. And too, although he wouldn’t meet the Queen’s eyes, their father, Lord Amaury Trente. Gerard de Mereliot, representing the Lady of Marsilikos. Marquis Tibault de Toluard, the avid inventor, who maintained a friendship with