Kushiel's Mercy

guards, asking the same questions. Sidonie was forced to repeat a variant of the same speech before ordering the release of Isabel de Bretel and the men who had travelled with her.
    As a rule, Terre d’Ange is not cruel to prisoners. But when I saw the elderly Baronesse de Bretel and her men blinking at the spring sunlight in the dungeon’s courtyard, I knew that at the least they had been confined in darkness since yesterday’s audience. The baronesse stopped short, squinting at Sidonie and me. Her men cringed a little.
    “Ah, gods,” Sidonie whispered in pain.
    “It’s all right,” I said to Isabel de Bretel. “We did it, my lady. We succeeded after all. The spell is broken. Sidonie serves as regent at her majesty’s bidding. There will be no war.”
    Her head rose, her formerly neat coif of white hair lank and disheveled. The baronesse glanced slowly around at the shocked guards, their sudden attitude of humble respect.
    Her voice broke. “Truly?”
    “Truly,” Sidonie said. “My lady, I had thought to ask you to bear this message to my sister and uncle, but given your travail, it was thoughtless—”
    “No!” Isabel de Bretel flushed, her skin as fine as wrinkled parchment. She gave a short, wondering laugh. She clasped her hands together. “No, your highness. Please, I beg you.
    Nothing would please me more.”
    “Are you certain?” Sidonie asked gravely.
    “Yes.” The baronesse nodded. “Oh, yes. May I . . .” She hesitated. “Forgive me, your highnesses, but may I touch you? May I be certain this is real and not some fevered dream born out of fear and confinement?”
    I answered for both of us. “Yes.”
    With slow, tentative steps, Isabel de Bretel came forward. Her men followed, strides gradually lengthening as they realized their shackles had been stricken for good, that they were no longer prisoners and there would be no war. Isabel de Bretel cupped Sidonie’s face in her gnarled hands, then mine. Feeling and believing, her old eyes filled with hope and awe. After all the stricken faces I’d seen, it gladdened my heart to see hers. I remembered the touch of her soft, wrinkled palms against my skin. Then it had felt like redemption. Today it felt like a benediction.
    We had given them hope.
    And we had not failed them.

Eighty-Four

    We escorted the Baronesse Isabel de Bretel and her men to the Palace to prepare for their journey and found a new dilemma awaiting us.
    “You’re not allowed entrance, your highness,” the nervous guard at the gates informed us.
    “Captain Duval’s orders.”
    Sidonie stared at him. “What?”
    The guard licked his lips. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. He came riding hell-for-leather from the Square. He said you wrought a terrible spell that’s driven everyone mad and we had to trust him and keep you from claiming the throne at all costs.” He looked ill. “I don’t . . .
    I don’t know what to believe. Have I lost my wits?”
    “No,” I said. “But it sounds like Captain Duval has.”
    “I suppose some were bound to,” Sidonie murmured. “It’s a terrible strain.”
    Claude de Monluc drew his sword. “Open the gates and stand aside, man! I heard the Queen’s words myself. Her highness is in command here.”
    The guard screwed up his face. Now it looked as though he were about to burst into tears.
    “I don’t know what to do.”
    “How many of the Palace Guard are with him?” de Monluc asked.
    “Forty or fifty?” he guessed.
    “We can take them, your highness,” de Monluc said to Sidonie. He gave me a grim, sidelong smile. “With Prince Imriel’s help, I don’t doubt it.”
    “Elua, no!” Sidonie said in alarm. She glanced at Isabel de Bretel, who had gone ashen.
    “No violence. It’s not his fault. It’s no one’s fault.” She pressed her temples. “Imriel. Do you think you can persuade my mother that her presence is required more urgently here than among the wounded?”
    “I’ll try,” I said. “And I’ll drag her here if I can’t.”
    I rode quickly back to Elua’s Square, weaving and dodging hundreds of aimless, wandering pedestrians. I found Joscelin outside the tent where Lelahiah Valais was still working on Drustan’s injuries, and Ysandre and Phèdre within it. I bowed and explained the situation to the Queen.
    “No.” Ysandre didn’t meet my eyes. “I had Isabel de Bretel cast in chains for speaking the truth to madness. I can’t possibly face her. I’m sorry. That’s why I abdicated