Kushiel's Mercy

that if the Aragonians and the Euskerri didn’t stand together against Carthage at this juncture, they would fall separately. She enumerated Astegal’s forces in succinct terms.
    I didn’t think the Euskerri doubted her, at least not in a broad sense. We might not have had a parlor trick to play to lend credence to our tale of ensorcelment, but the essential reality of the situation was self-evident. Terre d’Ange was in disarray to the north and Aragonia besieged to the south. The Amazigh had come in pursuit as Sidonie had said they would. Janpier Iturralde could vouch for her identity.
    She presented Iturralde with the written charter of sovereignty that Serafin’s council had prepared and described it in clear detail for the benefit of the audience. She recited from memory the terms of the accord to which her mother had been willing to agree well over a year ago, detailing the D’Angeline territory to be ceded. She gave her word on behalf of Terre d’Ange that not only would the accord be kept if the Euskerri agreed to it, but that Terre d’Ange would use its sway to ensure that Aragonia didn’t break faith with Euskerria.
    When Sidonie finished, a great roar arose, not cheers, but merely the sound of thousands of voices rising in simultaneous argument as the Euskerri turned to one another in the square, taking up their individual concerns and ignoring her presence. She blinked, taken aback.
    Janpier Iturralde moved closer to us. “There will be debate for many hours,” he said frankly. “Perhaps for days, as others come to Roncal. There is nothing more you can do.
    Wait in the guesthouse and I will send word if there is a decision or further questions.”
    I glanced involuntarily toward the north. “My lord, is it not possible—”
    Sidonie laid a hand on my arm. “We will await your word, etxekojaun ,” she said calmly.
    In the days that followed—and it did take days—the debate raged heatedly. If there was a system of governance in place among the Euskerri, I failed to grasp it. Of a surety, there was no single ruler. It didn’t appear that there was a formal parliament or governing council, either, nor any form of elected republic. As best I could determine, each village had its own headman or woman, but they were not allowed to represent the views of the village until concord was reached.
    And once it was, the headmen and women of the villages argued the matter all over again amongst themselves. Only when they had come to agreement did they select spokespersons to carry out their will.
    There was a certain fairness to it, but it was a messy process and a frustrating one. Like Sidonie, I chafed at our nearness to the D’Angeline border. Along with every other house in Roncal, the guesthouse where we were lodged was now filled to overflowing, half a dozen women aiding Bixenta in cooking and cleaning for the contentious horde. Every night, I entertained thoughts of laying claim to a pair of swift horses and fleeing north.
    “We can’t ,” Sidonie said irritably when I proposed the idea for a second time. “Imriel, I agreed to this. If we flee, it undermines all our credence. There will be no agreement, no alliance. The best we could hope is that Amílcar holds until we can send aid. And then we’re talking about sending D’Angelines to fight and die in the Euskerri’s stead. In the end, I’m accountable to our people.”
    I groaned. “I know! It’s just—”
    “I know.” She blew out her breath in an impatient sigh. “Gods! I think about it every hour of every day. Do you think it’s not killing me, too?”
    “No.” I grasped her shoulders hard, rubbing her collarbones with my thumbs. It calmed me. I could feel her body yielding beneath my touch, ceding what her determined sense of honor and propriety wouldn’t. “No, I know. I do. I’m sorry.”
    Sidonie shook her head and reached for me.
    We took out our frustrations on ourselves, on each other. In the midst of turmoil and uncertainty, we found surety. Helpless to rearrange the world to my liking, I was at least able to control this . Unable to relinquish her role, Sidonie was at least able to surrender in our bed. We made love like war. I pinned her wrists high above her head with one hand, feeling her arch beneath me. I plowed her relentlessly, driving her to climax after climax, until I had to release my grip and spend myself deep within her. I felt her nails score my back, her thighs tightening around hips.
    “So