Kushiel's Mercy

you.”
    Maslin, rising to approach me, his gaze clear of the old bitterness. “I’m happy for you,”
    he said, honest and direct. “Truly. Both of you.”
    I grinned at him. “My thanks, my bright angel.” It made him laugh. “I’m glad you came.”
    Alais, looking older and self-assured. She hugged me hard and whispered in my ear. “I’m so glad to have you as a brother, really and truly.”
    I hugged her back. “You always did, villain.” She didn’t protest at the nickname, only laughed. “No harpist?” I inquired.
    “No.” Alais pulled away to regard me with amusement. “Not yet.”
    And then Drustan and Ysandre approached. I bowed. “Your majesties.”
    “Imriel.” Drustan laid his hand on my shoulder. “I told you once that you would always be family to me.” He smiled quietly. “I am pleased to find it true.”
    “As am I,” Ysandre echoed.
    I bowed again. “I will try to be worthy.”
    “I think you’ve managed,” Ysandre said wryly; but then she embraced me and touched my face, her touch gentle and lingering. “I did a very good thing when I sought to heal the rifts in our realm by finding you, Imriel de la Courcel. Better than I knew. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”
    I nodded, words failing me.
    It went on and on. Mavros and my Shahrizai kin. Lady Nicola. Ghislain nó Trevalion; his wife, who’d sought to have me killed. Their son, Bertran. Lucius Tadius da Lucca.
    Barquiel L’Envers. Old friends, old enemies.
    All happy.
    Phèdre and Joscelin.
    “Thank you,” I said to them. “Just . . . thank you.”
    For the gift of my life, for the gift of all that I was. For everything. I owed them everything. I always would.
    Phèdre smiled. “Your happiness is all the thanks either of us ever needed, love. I pray to Elua it never ends.” She turned her head, sensing Hyacinthe’s approach. “What does the dromonde see today?”
    “Happiness, indeed.” Hyacinthe’s sea-shifting gaze settled on my face. He smiled, too.
    “Ordinary and mortal and messy. A great deal of it. Will that suffice?”
    “Yes,” Joscelin said firmly.
    “Gods, yes!” I echoed fervently.
    The congratulations ended and the fête began in earnest. There was food, an abundance of food. Long tables had been laid beneath the silk tents and they were filled to groaning.
    Musicians played in shifts, unceasing. There were acrobats from Eglantine House and strolling poets. Sidonie and I sat side by side, reveling in the joyous pageantry. We listened to a thousand toasts, we received a thousand gifts. We made a toast of our own, drinking deep to one another, to all of those we loved who were present. To those who could not be here today. I watched Sidonie fulfill a vow, dancing with lumbering Kratos as the setting sun streaked the sky with fire.
    I thought about my mother, far away on Cythera.
    And Ptolemy Solon.
    Happiness is the highest form of wisdom .
    I thought the Wise Ape might be right.
    “Your highness,” Claude de Monluc’s voice said at my ear. “There’s a fellow here seeks entrance to your nuptial feast. He says you’ll know him. Says he has your horse. Sure as hell looks like it.”
    I rose, a trifle unsteady. “Did he give his name?”
    Claude shook his head. “He said you’d know.”
    I went to meet him. In the fiery wash of light, the Bastard’s spotted hide glowed. He pricked his ears forward at the sight of me. The figure astride him raised one hand, backlit by the setting sun. I looked up at him, shading my eyes, and gazed at a face I’d seen in the mirror, disconcertingly familiar. “Leander Maignard.”
    “Prince Imriel.” He bowed from the saddle, then dismounted with a lithe twist and handed me the reins. “Thought you might like your horse back. He’s a fine mount and you seemed passing fond of him.”
    I stroked the Bastard’s neck. The Bastard snuffled my hair. “You came all this way to return my horse?”
    “Not exactly.” Leander grinned. “I was supposed to be here days ago, but the damned ship was wind-stilled during the passage. Her ladyship’s going to be disappointed that I missed the ceremony. She was expecting a thorough accounting.”
    “I see.” I glanced back at the reveling throng. “It would surprise me to learn that she doesn’t have other spies in place.”
    “Ah.” He shrugged. “Doubtless. But none who might hope to gain a lengthy audience with the Dauphine of Terre d’Ange that they might report back to her ladyship in