Kushiel's Mercy

L’Envers and their shadow Parliament was a great help. With their aid, we were able to assemble a Court of Assizes willing and qualified to review the multitude of petitions. There were a handful of cases in which Alais admitted to questioning her own judgment—she knew a great deal more about Alban law than D’Angeline—but many could be dismissed out of hand by the Court. The rest, Sidonie agreed to review herself.
    The moon waned and waxed. The trade routes grew busy. Life in the City began to resume some of its normal rhythms.
    Alais met with her royal parents to speak to them about her desire to end her betrothal to Talorcan and pursue her studies to become an ollamh . Sidonie and I attended the meeting.
    They heard Alais out in silence.
    “I am willing to give my blessing to this plan,” Drustan said when she had finished. “As an ollamh , her stature and influence will be greater than that of a Cruarch’s wife. But I do not know if that would be understood in Terre d’Ange.”
    “Far better than it would have been a year ago,” Ysandre murmured. “Though there is still the question of succession.”
    “I’ve thought about that, too.” Alais hesitated. “Aunt Breidaia . . . we’ve grown close since Dorelei’s death. I think she would be pleased to adopt me as a foster-daughter. And if she did . . .”
    “You’d be Talorcan’s sister in the eyes of Alban law,” Drustan mused, finishing the thought. “Your children would be eligible to be named his heirs.”
    Alais nodded without speaking.
    “Ah, love!” Ysandre studied Alais’ face. “Is it truly your heart’s desire?”
    “It is,” Alais said in a steady voice.
    Ysandre smiled with sorrow. “Then I think I too must consent to give my blessing. If we have learned naught else, of a surety we have learned the dangers of placing politics over love.” Her gaze fell on Sidonie and me. “So one oft-postponed wedding is to be cancelled and one much-thwarted one announced. I think it would be best if we waited until I’ve resumed the throne to issue both proclamations. I want there to be no question that this was in accordance with my will and done with my blessing.”
    “And mine,” Drustan said quietly.
    So it was decided.
    The waxing moon grew full. In a small, modest ceremony, Sidonie relinquished the regency and Ysandre reclaimed the throne. The banns were posted announcing our betrothal. The wedding would take place the following summer, in one year’s time. All of us reckoned the realm needed time yet to heal, and Sidonie and I would sooner be wed in joy than sorrow. For now it was enough that our betrothal was recognized and accepted.
    There were no protests, no mention of Melisande Shahrizai. Carthage’s treachery had overshadowed hers. The love affair that had strained the realm had proved its salvation.
    The world had changed.
    A few weeks after Ysandre resumed the throne, word came from Aragonia. Pressed by the presence of the D’Angeline fleet and fearful of further military support coming from Terre d’Ange, bereft of its ambitious general and his sorcerous kinsman, Carthage was cutting its losses and negotiating for a truce.
    Aragonia itself was in disarray. There were factions supporting Serafin L’Envers y Aragon and factions supporting the deposed king, Roderico de Aragon. There were factions that held that the best compromise was for the childless Roderico to name Serafin his heir. There were factions supporting the accord with the Euskerri and factions opposing it. After consulting with Sidonie, Ysandre sent a sharply worded message indicating that if Aragonia failed to honor its bargain with the fledgling sovereign nation of Euskerria, Terre d’Ange would withdraw its naval support, leaving their ports defenseless.
    Beyond that, it was their story to tell.
    There was talk of retribution against Carthage. As spring wore onto summer, Ysandre convened Parliament to discuss the matter—a Parliament altered and expanded by circumstance. The members of the shadow Parliament who had helped Alais govern had been inaugurated as official members under Ysandre’s rule. The debate was waged by old members and new, the bright mirror and the dark.
    All voices were heard. Sidonie and I spoke against war. We’d both seen too much bloodshed. We both carried our own scars. No amount of further blood would erase them.
    In the end it was Hyacinthe’s voice that decided it.
    He had elected to stay until Drustan returned to