Kushiel's Mercy

in an effort to discern what divine lessons it might hold.
    I kept my word and dispatched a letter to my mother and Ptolemy Solon on Cythera, giving sincere thanks for their aid and including a generous reward for Captain Deimos and his men drawn on the Royal Treasury. It also included an official declaration stamped with the royal seal and signed by the Regent of Terre d’Ange confirming that Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel’s sentence of execution had been reduced to one of exile.
    Across the realm, there was no rejoicing, only quiet relief. In the City, a somber mood prevailed.
    It was a strange time. I’d returned to the City and been treated with wary care as an invalid, deranged and harmless. All of that had changed. Without being asked, the folk of the realm treated me as an unofficial co-regent. The captains of the Palace Guard and the City Guard consulted me on their decisions. Claude de Monluc, continuing as the head of Sidonie’s personal guard, regarded my word as interchangeable with hers. And then there was Kratos, our unlikely hero, loyal to us both.
    “Gods be thanked,” Sidonie said when I commented on it.
    Her workload was heavy. Within two days of the spell’s breaking, petitioners began pouring into the City, heedless of the injunction to spend the time in contemplation. It seemed ten thousand petty disputes had sprung up during the time of madness. The judicial system had fallen apart under the strain. Some suits were unsettled and deserved a fair hearing; others had been settled by Alais in a manner the complainants disliked.
    Sidonie considered refusing to hear them until the month had passed, but after consulting with Brother Thomas from the Temple of Elua, she decided that the realm would be better served by accepting their petitions and hastening the return to normalcy.
    Word from Alais and Barquiel L’Envers had been swift and joyous on the heels of our news. Still, it took time for them to arrive. It was a week before we heard that their entourage had been sighted.
    That was a glad day.
    They came under the white banner of peace, trebling the number of pennants Sidonie had dispatched. I stood beside Sidonie under the arch that spanned the gates to the City, watching them come. All those white pennants fluttering, as though a flock of white doves hovered above the earth. The walls were lined with watchers.
    My throat felt tight.
    Aside from the pennants, it wasn’t an impressive entourage. All the outriders wore mismatched livery, much of it threadbare. This was a fragment of the army we would have fought, cobbled together from commonfolk and the scions of the Lesser Houses.
    Still, their weapons were sturdy and sharp. It would have been a terrible thing.
    “Sidonie.” Alais breathed her sister’s name, dismounting before the gates. Barquiel L’Envers followed suit. The man behind them remained in the saddle. I looked up with a shock and met Hyacinthe’s sea-shifting gaze.
    The crowd murmured.
    Slowly and deliberately, the Lord of the Straits dismounted. He moved as though to offer a bow.
    “No, my lord.” Sidonie sank into a curtsy. I bowed low. All our guards dropped to one knee. After a moment, Sidonie rose. “Terre d’Ange gives thanks to her highness Alais de la Courcel and his grace Barquiel L’Envers for serving in her hour of need,” she said in a clear, strong voice. “Let it be noted!”
    There were cheers then, for the first time, ragged but heartfelt. L’Envers clasped my hand as Sidonie embraced her sister.
    “Imriel,” he said steadily. “Well done.”
    I nodded. “And you.”
    Hyacinthe.
    He was slighter than I remembered; still, there was that mantle of power that hung over him, those dark, roiling eyes that had stared into the prospect of a dreadful forever. He clasped my hand, too.
    “Thank you,” I said to him. “Thank you for coming.”
    Hyacinthe smiled slightly. “Thank you for rendering my presence unnecessary.” He looked past me, searching.
    “She’s not here,” I said, knowing he was looking for Phèdre. “There’s to be a ceremony in Elua’s Square.”
    He inclined his head. “Ah.”
    I hugged Alais. She felt less frail than she had in Turnone. “I’m so glad,” she whispered.
    “So very, very glad.”
    “So am I, love,” I whispered back.
    We mounted and rode to Elua’s Square. It had been left untouched, bereft of its paving stones, the wooden dais still on the dirt beneath the great oak tree. Drustan and Ysandre