Kushiel's Mercy

jaw tightened. “You gave me my freedom. It’s not your choice.”
    I gazed at his face: the blunt, worn features, the squashed nose. There was pride there, pride and courage and a canny intellect. Kratos had found hope and purpose long after he’d thought it lost. It would be cruel to take it from him.
    So be it.
    “It is my choice,” I said in a hard tone. “I’m responsible for Sidonie’s safety. And I’m sorry, Kratos, but you’re not fit for travel. You might be able to ride, but could you mount in a hurry? Could you scramble over rocks if we had to flee on foot? No. You’re staying here.”
    Kratos bowed his head. “As you will.”
    I felt bad for him, but not as badly as I would have felt if he’d died like Gilot. “We’d never have gotten this far without you, my friend,” I said more gently. “Think on that while you heal.”
    He grunted. “I’ll try.”
    I took my leave of Kratos and found Captain Deimos. His men were restless and concerned, trapped in a besieged city with the threat of Carthaginian reprisal hanging over them if Amílcar should fall. I promised to speak to Lady Nicola about dispersing them throughout the city so that they might not collectively be identified as the crew of the Cytheran ship that assisted in abducting Astegal’s bride. Beyond that, there wasn’t much else I could do.
    When I returned to the palace, Lady Nicola was in conference with several Aragonian lords’ wives, doing her best to persuade them to sway their husbands, I reckoned. Since I gauged it too early to interrupt Sidonie, I went to the palace stables and begged the loan of a horse.
    Ever since we’d arrived, I’d wanted to get a look at Astegal’s forces. I rode to the northwestern edge of the city.
    Over the course of a day, word had spread of Sidonie’s and my initial address to the council, and I found myself greeted with curiosity and wonder more than hostility. The squadron of guards posted in the northwest tower were glad enough to introduce me to their captain, who took me out onto the walls himself.
    “There the bastard sits, your highness,” the captain announced with a wave of his arm.
    I gazed at the scene before me. There was the army we’d sent off with fanfare from New Carthage, spread out across the plain at the base of the foothills. Amílcar was situated between two rivers, and Astegal’s army occupied the ground between them, fortified by defensive trenches and earthworks. Soldiers bustled about, digging the trenches deeper and building the earthworks higher.
    “No siege engines?” I asked.
    The captain, whose name was Aureliano, shook his head. “Thus far he’s not bothered. I reckon he thinks he can wait us out.”
    “Do you?”
    Aureliano pursed his lips. “Unless something gives, aye. Are the rumors true? Are you and the princess able to put an end to the madness in Terre d’Ange and send aid?”
    “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “If we could get there, yes. But we’re trapped here as surely as you are.” I paused. “What would you think of aid coming from another quarter?
    Euskerria, say?”
    He shrugged. “Better the devil you know than the one you don’t. I’d welcome the Euskerri if they could deal with Astegal.”
    I peered at the forces arrayed against us. “Is he here?”
    Aureliano laughed. “Himself? No, not today.” He pointed toward the south. “We heard he’s taken the palace of Montero for himself. Most days, he’s there, living the good life while his men work and toil.”
    “Careless,” I murmured.
    “He was here the day you arrived, though,” Aureliano added. “And the day after.
    Storming around on a big black horse, looking a fury.”
    “Good,” I said.
    The sun was growing low on the horizon, so I thanked Aureliano for his kindness and rode back to the palace. This time I found Lady Nicola free. There was no word yet regarding General Liberio’s decision, but at least she readily agreed to send someone to ensure that Kratos, Deimos, and the others were taken care of to the best of Amílcar’s ability. In a few days, I’d come to depend so heavily on her generosity and competence, I felt guilty that I’d ever thought ill of her.
    That done, I returned to find Sidonie, still in her pensive mood.
    “Finished, love?” I asked.
    “I think so.” She moved a sheaf of paper. “Elua willing, there’ll be an opportunity to address them again. Is there news?”
    “Not yet.” I sat beside her. “Would you like