Kushiel's Mercy

whispered to me, tears on her wrinkled cheeks. “I’m very sorry for them.”
    I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “That’s all right, my lady. Just lend us your prayers.”
    “I will.” She pressed my hands between her soft palms. “I will.”
    At length the crush subsided. Barquiel L’Envers pushed his way through with Alais at his side. “I fear their highnesses must depart,” he announced. “Time is of the essence. But they have endured grave dangers to be here today. Let us take heart from their words and resolve to be no less worthy of Terre d’Ange!”
    The cheer was resounding.
    My heart ached.
    And then it was time for one more damnable leavetaking. This one hurt. Marc Faucon and his men came to fetch us. They had Kratos in tow. I introduced him to Alais and L’Envers, reckoning he deserved no less. They’d heard the tale, they knew his role and treated him with respect. Still, I took a certain pleasure in the bemusement of the watching peers, wondering what in Elua’s name an aging Hellene wrestler with a squashed nose was doing in the midst of everything.
    And it drew out the inevitable a few precious moments longer.
    “Good luck,” Alais whispered fiercely against my neck when I hugged her. “Be safe.
    Please be safe. And keep Sidonie safe.”
    I held her hard. “I will.”
    Barquiel L’Envers clasped my hand. “I misjudged you,” he said bluntly. “I’ll not apologize for it. Blessed Elua knows, your mother was a pox on this land, and you struck fear into our hearts when you turned my sensible grandniece’s head.”
    It made me smile. “I know.”
    L’Envers snorted. “Never thought that you might actually love her.” He watched Sidonie and Alais say their farewells, clutching one another’s hands and speaking in low tones.
    His face softened. “I suppose I should have. Never approved of Ysandre and Drustan’s union either, but it seems to have produced a remarkable pair of offspring.”
    “Yes,” I said. “It did.”
    “Ah.” He snapped his fingers. “Speaking of Drustan, I nearly forgot.” L’Envers untied a silk pouch from his belt and handed it to me. “The token you sent with the Euskerri messenger. It was a gift of the Cruarch, was it not? He’ll expect to see you wearing it in his niece’s memory.”
    I opened the pouch to find the torc that Drustan had given me the day I’d wed Dorelei in Alba. I’d always admired Drustan. I’d been proud to receive it from his hands. What an awful thing it was to contemplate all his quiet strength and dignity twisted awry. “Thank you, my lord.”
    Barquiel L’Envers offered a curt bow. “Blessed Elua hold and keep you. I wish you all the luck in the world.”
    Time to go.
    Again.
    Sidonie and I raised our hoods and shrouded our faces. We left as we’d come, cloaked and anonymous. I kept my head lowered, watching the foot-worn granite blocks as I passed. I felt fresh air on my face, damp with spring’s promise. I climbed into the carriage, sliding across the horsehair seats. Sidonie joined me. I felt the carriage dip as Kratos took up his post alongside the driver. Someone drew the curtains. I pushed back my hood. Beside me, Sidonie did the same.
    A whip cracked; a voice issued a command.
    The carriage lurched forward.
    Gods, I was tired. I hadn’t reckoned how much so until I took my place in the carriage. I hadn’t slept and I could feel the weight of all that hope riding on my shoulders. And if I was feeling it, I knew Sidonie was feeling it more. I slid my arm around her and she nestled close against me.
    “You were magnificent,” I murmured against her hair.
    “I’m scared,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid of what we’ll find in the City. I’m afraid of facing it, Imriel. And I’m afraid of failing.”
    “I know.” I drew her closer. “But they didn’t.”
    “No?” Sidonie lifted her head and gazed at me, yearning for reassurance.
    “No.” I shook my head. “They didn’t. You did what you promised. You gave them hope.”
    We paused at the gates of Turnone, and then the carriage nosed steeply downward. The horses plodded steadily, the carriage creaking and groaning. Sidonie yawned and settled her head on my shoulder. I held her, reveling in her warm presence, feeling the undercurrent of exhaustion tugging at the both of us.
    “Sleep,” I whispered. “Sleep, love.”
    She did.
    So did I.

Seventy-Two

    The farther we went toward the City of Elua, the more Sidonie’s bindings