Kushiel's Mercy

of me. It is inconvenient, but he poses no threat.” She pointed to Kratos. “And Kratos here is . . . was . . . my lord Astegal’s most trusted and loyal bodyguard. No harm will come to me while he is present.”
    Kratos folded his arms and looked impassive.
    Ghislain hesitated, then shrugged. “As you will.”
    Inside the carriage, we sat in silence for most of the ride. Unlike the rest of Terre d’Ange, the City of Elua was abuzz. People thronged the streets, staring as our entourage passed.
    But there were no greetings shouted, only a rising tide of speculation. It held an edge of anger that made my skin prickle.
    “Feels like a hornets’ nest,” Kratos muttered. “This isn’t how I imagined one of the great cities of Terre d’Ange.”
    “It’s not how it is.” Sidonie glanced at him, pain in her eyes. “All that you will see and hear in these days . . . it’s a lie, a foul lie wrought by Bodeshmun’s magic. I beg you to believe me.”
    “I do,” he said gently.
    And then there was no more time for talk. We clattered into the courtyard of the Palace.
    There were more guards on duty than I ever remembered seeing, and the ostlers who came to attend to mounts and carriage-horses worked with martial efficiency.
    “This way.” Ghislain snapped his fingers and his men formed a cordon around us, ushering us into the Palace.
    It was another moment come around full circle. Members of the Court turned out to stare, wondering at Sidonie’s unexpected return, wondering at my unexpected presence. There were hard-eyed guards posted everywhere. When we passed the Hall of Games, there was a scuffle taking place. A woman’s voice rose to a shriek, haranguing some unseen companion with accusations of cheating. It should have been a shocking breach of decorum, but no one batted an eye.
    Sidonie was right.
    This was not our City.
    We halted outside the door of one of Ysandre’s private salons while Ghislain exchanged a word with the guards. I watched Sidonie’s shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, bracing herself. Kratos placed himself at her side, unbidden. She gave him a look of gratitude. Good. That was all right. No one had cause to believe he was aught but Astegal’s loyal man. He could lend her the support I couldn’t, and no one would think twice at it.
    The door was opened.
    We were ushered into the salon.
    Ysandre and Drustan were awaiting us. They stood side by side: the Queen of Terre d’Ange and the Cruarch of Alba, united. I saw Ysandre take in my presence, and I saw suspicion dawn on her features. Drustan’s expression was unreadable behind his woad tattoos. Ghislain and a dozen of his men remained as the door was closed behind us.
    “Sidonie.” Ysandre uttered her daughter’s name without a trace of warmth. Drustan said nothing, only watched his eldest, the black eyes she’d inherited hard and appraising.
    “What is the meaning of this?”
    “Your majesties.” Sidonie curtsied deeply and held it. She spoke without lifting her head.
    “My husband Astegal, Prince of the House of Sarkal, General of Carthage, is dead.”
    As before, there was a world of grief behind the words, not for Astegal, but for the City of Elua, for her mother and father, and all who dwelled in the City. It didn’t matter. It was real. It sufficed.
    Ysandre paled. “How?”
    Sidonie straightened. “It was the Euskerri. Serafin L’Envers y Aragon made a treaty with them. Together they defeated Astegal’s army outside Amílcar. Astegal . . .” She paused.
    “I am told . . . I am told he was captured and executed. He had left orders for me to flee for my own safety. And there is more—”
    “House L’Envers!” Ysandre hissed the word, nails digging into her own forearms. “I should have known it. This conspiracy grows vaster by the day. I swear to Blessed Elua, I could claw that cursed blood from my own veins if I could!”
    “Hold.” Drustan lifted one hand. “You said there was more,” he said to Sidonie. “Speak.”
    “A ray of hope.” She gazed at her father. “One last gift of my lord’s kinsman Bodeshmun.
    It is why I was sent swiftly and in secret.”
    Ysandre and Drustan exchanged a glance. “Then let us hear this tale in its entirety,”
    Ysandre said. She pointed at me. “And you may begin with how and why Melisande Shahrizai’s oft-vanished son comes to reappear in your company.”
    There were nods and mutters of agreement among Ghislain’s men.
    Sidonie inclined