Kushiel's Mercy

missing prince?”
    “More often than not,” I agreed.
    “Call a council, Serafin,” Nicola murmured. “Whatever it is they have to say, I suspect we’ll all want to hear it.”
    He nodded brusquely. “Escort them to the great hall.” With that, Serafin took his leave, accompanied by a handful of guards.
    “He seems a touch . . . intemperate,” I volunteered.
    “Terre d’Ange’s betrayal took everyone hard,” Nicola said soberly. “Serafin more than most. It’s half his heritage. You won’t find a lot of goodwill here, I fear. I’ve felt the brush of suspicion myself, and I’ve lived a good deal of my life in Aragonia.”
    Sidonie finished her tea. “Lady Nicola, do you know what passes in Terre d’Ange these days?”
    “You’ve not heard?” Nicola inquired.
    Sidonie shook her head. “There was no information passing through New Carthage.
    Before that, I was kept ignorant.”
    “We’ve been isolated since the siege began,” Nicola said. Her expression was deeply troubled. “But at last reckoning, Terre d’Ange was divided against itself. Barquiel sought to install your sister, Alais, as Princess-Regent, using troops he raised and some of Alba’s forces. Ysandre decreed them in rebellion against the Crown. They’ve established a base at Turnone, while Ysandre holds the City of Elua.”
    I felt sick. “Are they at war?”
    “Not yet—or at least they weren’t. But it seems a precarious stalemate.” She shifted her worried gaze to mine. “No one’s known what to believe. I’d never have thought Ysandre would grow power-mad, but there’s an ambitious strain in the L’Envers bloodline. Elua knows Barquiel’s always had it.”
    “It’s not ambition,” Sidonie said. “Not this time.” She rose and I took her arm to steady her. She gave me a fleeting smile. “Let’s go take your clothes off for the Aragonian council.”
    “I’m beginning to think you enjoy that part,” I observed.
    Her smile deepened briefly. “I do, actually.”
    The council wasn’t large. It consisted of Serafin and eight others, all men. His father, Ramiro Zornín de Aragon was among them. I wondered how it was that Serafin had claimed the regency over his father’s right, and suspected it had somewhat to do with ambition. Phèdre had always said that Ramiro, a minor member of the House of Aragon who’d long served as King’s Consul, had a good deal of charm and little ambition.
    I supposed she ought to know, since Nicola had been her lover for many years, which was why I’d never liked her. Those feelings seemed distant and petty now.
    The other members of the council consisted of Vitor Gaitán, the captain of the Harbor Watch; a grizzled veteran named Liberio who was in command of what remained of the army; and five other Aragonian lords whose names blurred together in my memory.
    “So few,” Sidonie said in a low voice.
    “Many followed the King when Roderico surrendered,” Nicola said quietly. “And many others have accepted Carthage’s terms.”
    Sidonie and I were ushered into chairs at the long table in the great hall, facing the council. To a man, they looked disapproving. I was glad that Lady Nicola stayed, unobtrusively taking a seat at the far end of the table.
    “Speak,” Serafin said with a curt nod.
    Sidonie rose, resting her hands on the table. Elua, she looked young in those surroundings!
    She was young. But she was the daughter of the Queen of Terre d’Ange and the Cruarch of Alba, and the only person in the room raised from birth to rule a nation.
    “My lords,” she said in a clear voice. “Thank you for hearing us. I am Sidonie de la Courcel of Terre d’Ange, and for our mutual benefit, I wish to tell you what befell my country.”
    The youngest of the Aragonian lords actually had the temerity to hiss. Serafin shot him a look. “Shut your mouth, Jimeno,” he said. “Go on.”
    She inclined her head. “Last summer, we received a suit from General Astegal, Prince of the House of Sarkal, wishing to pay tribute to Terre d’Ange on behalf of Carthage. With some misgivings, Parliament voted to receive his delegation. My mother took the precaution of bringing the Royal Army within the City’s walls and ensuring the Carthaginians were escorted by Admiral Rousse and several of his war-ships.”
    “That we know,” Liberio said laconically.
    Sidonie ignored him. “During the course of his visit, Astegal made an offer for my hand.
    He implied that Carthage, Terre