Kushiel's Mercy

stood on it. Instead of guards, they were flanked by Priests and Priestesses of Elua, barefoot in blue robes.
    There hadn’t been time to issue an announcement, but a sizable crowd had gathered nonetheless. They whispered among themselves as we approached, the rumor of Hyacinthe’s presence spreading.
    At a word from Sidonie, our company drew rein and dismounted. Alais and L’Envers approached the dais.
    “It is not truly my place to perform this office today,” Ysandre said in a quiet tone. She gazed at her youngest daughter, sorrow etched on her face. “But I think it fitting that you receive this from my hand and no other. It is I who owes you the greatest debt.” She held out a gold medallion strung on green ribbon. “Alais de la Courcel, for your service to the realm, I present you with the Medal of Valor.”
    Alais bowed her head. Ysandre placed the medal around her neck, then kissed and embraced her daughter. Drustan put his arms around them both and said somewhat in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. Alais nodded, her face hidden. A soft sigh of approval ran through the crowd.
    Terre d’Ange was whole.
    We would endure.
    The Medal of Valor was likewise presented to Barquiel L’Envers, who received it with a modesty I didn’t think was feigned. This ordeal had altered him, as it had all of us. He looked tired and relieved, a man spared a dreadful burden. But Alais . . . when Alais turned to face the crowd, she gave a smile so bright and dazzling, so utterly genuine, that I felt myself smiling in reply.
    We would heal.
    The ceremony was concluded. I watched Hyacinthe pay his respects to Drustan and Ysandre. There was somewhat reassuring about his presence there, a reminder that there were benign forces in the world able to match Carthage’s magic. I thought about the mysterious journey that Phèdre and Joscelin had undertaken at his behest some years ago.
    Somewhere, I suspected, the pages of the Book of Raziel from whence his arcane knowledge came lay hidden and guarded. Mayhap they would vanish forever, or mayhap they would become a thread in someone else’s tale.
    I didn’t know for sure.
    I didn’t want to know.
    All that I wanted, I had. I glanced sidelong at Sidonie and caught her doing the same. She laughed.
    “What are you thinking, Sun Princess?” I asked.
    Her eyes sparkled. “Guess.”
    I smiled. “I think I can.”
    “Likely.” Sidonie reached up to kiss me, and there were no murmurs of disapproval from the slowly dispersing crowd, no underlying current of suspicion, only quiet smiles and nods. The fact that we were together had become emblematic of the fact that all was well in Terre d’Ange. Our love had been woven into the fabric of the realm.
    My arm resting around Sidonie’s waist, I watched Hyacinthe approach Phèdre and Joscelin.
    “Tsingano,” Joscelin said in greeting.
    Hyacinthe nodded at him. “Cassiline.”
    He didn’t speak to Phèdre, only folded her in his arms. I watched her cling to him, holding him hard, taking solace in his presence. He was the Master of the Straits, but he was her oldest friend, too. Their story reached back a long, long way. Across the crowd, I met Joscelin’s eyes. He shrugged, the hilt of his sword rising over his left shoulder.
    Joscelin understood.
    Everything was intertwined.
    If Phèdre had never cared so deeply for Hyacinthe, she would never have set out on a quest to free him from his curse. Never have found herself in Menekhet, where the threads of our stories intertwined. Never have gone to Daršanga to free me. And if Joscelin hadn’t loved her beyond all reason, he would never have accompanied her.
    Never have defended us all in a dark and terrible hall that stank of death and ran red with blood.
    None of us would be here.
    “Imriel.” Sidonie’s voice broke my reverie. I realized that the official participants of the ceremony were waiting on us. They wouldn’t leave before we gave the signal. That was something else to which I’d have to grow accustomed, a taste of the future to come.
    Sidonie’s regency would end in a month, but I had fallen in love with the Dauphine of Terre d’Ange, heir to a throne that my mother had coveted and I had never wanted. One day she truly would rule in her mother’s stead, with me at her side. “Are you ready?”
    “No,” I said. “But I will be.”

Eighty-Seven

    The month passed swiftly.
    There was an endless amount of work to be done, but the arrival of Alais and