Kushiel's Mercy

core.
    How much worse had it gotten?
    Some distance from the City, Gilbert Dumel ordered his oarsmen to cease progress. We waited until Sidonie emerged into the sunlight. She looked pale and hollow-eyed. I didn’t think she’d slept like a soldier. She gazed toward the City, expressionless.
    “We’ll not be able to enter unchallenged, your highness,” Gilbert informed her. “They’ll raise the chain and insist on searching the barge before we’re allowed to enter the harbor.”
    “I’ll speak to them,” Sidonie said.
    Gilbert gave a curt nod. “We’ll take our lead from you, highness.”
    The oarsmen resumed their stroke. Before long, we could see that the massive chain used to protect the harbor from invasion was already raised. A swift, sleek galley with a ballista mounted on its prow hailed us.
    “State your business!” came the shout.
    Sidonie was silent.
    We followed her lead.
    The galley bore down on us fast. As it drew nigh, I saw there were additional ballistae mounted on the sides and aft. Every one was manned, and there was a sizable contingent of armed men aboard, a thicket of crossbows pointing at us.
    “Halt the barge,” Sidonie said quietly. Gilbert gave the order. As we drifted slowly to a halt, the galley turned broadside to us.
    “State your business,” the galley’s captain repeated. He had a hard face. They all had hard faces. Sidonie stood in the prow without moving, Kratos and I a few paces behind.
    Although the captain didn’t notice me, I watched his face as he recognized her. It only got more grim. “Your highness.”
    “My business is the business of Terre d’Ange.” There was a raw edge to Sidonie’s voice, but it held a note of command, too. “And I will state it only to her majesty the Queen.”
    The captain gestured and his men lowered their crossbows. “You bring tidings out of Carthage?”
    “I bring tidings of woe,” Sidonie said, low and savage. “Tidings of death and defeat and bitter betrayal. But I will not deliver them to you, messire. Lower the chain and let us pass, or you may go join my sister and her rebel army.”
    If the captain harbored any doubts, those words erased them—that, and the unfeigned emotion behind them. She didn’t have to pretend. All of the very real grief and fury at what had befallen Terre d’Ange was there.
    “Lower the chain!” the captain shouted. “Send to the Palace! Tell them the Dauphine has returned! Now !”
    Unseen gears ground somewhere ashore. The mammoth chain sank beneath the waters.
    Our would-be adversary became our escort as the galley swung back around to precede us into the harbor. As our progress resumed, Sidonie stood motionless, her black cloak hanging in folds around her. The garment that had served as a tool of concealment now appeared a badge of mourning.
    Our oarsmen bent their backs. The barge slid past the white walls.
    We entered the City of Elua.
    I couldn’t sense any immediate change, but I saw Sidonie’s shoulders tighten and I knew the pain had gotten worse. I prayed that was all it was. “Are you all right?” I asked under my breath.
    She nodded without turning. “Thus far.”
    Gods, it was hard not to go to her, to offer the simple comfort of my presence. To share the burden. But I couldn’t, or at least Sidonie couldn’t accept it if I did. Not with the eyes of the City watching.
    So I didn’t.
    The response to the galley captain’s order had been swift. By the time we were docked at the wharf, there was a royal escort awaiting us: a company of soldiers led by Ghislain nó Trevalion himself. His broad, good-natured face was set in harsh lines. And unlike the galley captain, Ghislain noticed me immediately as we disembarked, his eyes widening in shock. “You!”
    “Have no fear, my lord,” Sidonie said. “He’s no danger.”
    Ghislain’s face darkened, but he proffered a bow. “We will see, your highness. I would welcome you home, but I fear your return portends ill.”
    “Yes.” She met his gaze squarely. “I need to speak to my mother. Immediately. Is my father in residence?”
    “He is.”
    She nodded. “So much the better. Take me to them, please.”
    There was a carriage with the insignia of House Courcel waiting. When I made to follow Sidonie into it, Ghislain caught my arm. “I think it best if you ride, Prince Imriel.”
    “My lord Ghislain!” Sidonie’s voice was sharp. “I tell you, it’s fine. Imriel labors under the delusion that he’s enamored