Kushiel's Mercy

lord.”
    “Blessed Elua bugger me,” L’Envers repeated, bemused. “So what in the seven hells do we do, Imriel de la Courcel? Raise an army? Wrest Quintilius Rousse’s fleet from his control and sail against Carthage? How do we do it without setting off a civil war in Terre d’Ange?”
    “We can’t,” I said. “We have to break the spell.”
    “Cythera.” He raked a hand through his short-cropped hair. “You’re sure that part’s not a fever-dream?”
    “As sure as I can be. Sunjata said the fever would break in a month, and it did. I have to try,” I said. “I’ll grovel and beg, if that’s what it takes. If Ptolemy Solon knows how to undo this, I’ll do whatever is needful. But I need your help to get out of the City, my lord.”
    “If it’s not a piece of your madness, you know damned well what he’ll ask for,” L’Envers said wryly. “A pardon for Melisande Shahrizai.”
    I was silent.
    L’Envers sighed. “I wish to hell I knew whether or not to believe you.”
    “I’m not lying,” I said stiffly.
    “No.” He eyed me. “No, I don’t think you are. But I’m not sure you’ve got your wits back altogether, and of a surety, I’m not convinced you aren’t a pawn in some unknowable scheme of your mother’s. Are you?”
    You’re lucky your mother loves you.
    “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “If I am, can it truly be worse than this?” He didn’t answer. I sipped my brandy, thinking. “Send to Alba, my lord. There’s still one member of House Courcel fit to sit the throne. Alais. If you raise a large enough delegation of D’Angelines and Albans alike to petition Ysandre and convince her that there’s somewhat amiss, if you reason with her instead of shouting, mayhap she’ll be willing to let Alais assume the throne until we can undo what was done.”
    “Alais!” L’Envers said in surprise. “That slip of a girl?”
    “She’s second in line for the throne,” I pointed out. “And she’s gained her majority; she turned eighteen last winter.”
    “True,” he mused.
    “She has the Master of the Straits’ ear,” I added. “If there’s anyone Drustan might listen to, it’s Hyacinthe. I’m sure he would help. He’s a deadly force unto himself, and he knows a good deal about magic. So do the ollamhs .” I thought about Berlik. “So do the Maghuin Dhonn, for that matter. It’s worth asking.”
    “Anything else?” L’Envers asked, only slightly sardonic.
    “Scour the Royal Archives,” I suggested. “The Secretary of the Presence will have recorded Parliament’s last session and . . . and the public audience wherein Ysandre bade me to bring my mother to justice if I truly wished to wed Sidonie. There has to be written evidence that casts doubt on Carthage’s claims and proves the truth. You can recruit scholars from outside the City to compile it.”
    “While you sail off to Cythera to reunite with your mother and Carthage goes unchecked,” he said.
    I spread my hands. “Do you have a better plan?”
    “Unfortunately, no,” L’Envers muttered, rising to pace the room. “You have a point. At the least, it might stall Ysandre from sending the army against Aragonia without setting off a civil war. And there would be a legitimate heir on the throne.” He halted. “No pardon for Melisande. A pardon’s unacceptable.” A look of profound distaste crossed his features. “However, I suppose we could offer to commute her sentence to exile in exchange for Ptolemy Solon’s assistance.”
    My heart leapt. “Then you’ll help me?”
    “Gods, I must have lost my own wits.” His mouth twisted. “I swear to Blessed Elua, if you fail in this, if you prove false or a dupe, I will make it my life’s work to hunt you down and kill you.” His violet eyes were deadly serious. “No intrigue, no ploys. I will kill you and bear whatever punishment follows.”
    I thought about Astegal in Jasmine House, his arms slung around a pair of adepts.
    Smiling as he emerged at dawn, heavy-lidded. I thought about Sidonie in his bed, ensorceled, spreading her thighs willingly for him, urging him into her. My muscles knotted, trembling with fury.
    “Duc Barquiel,” I said in perfect sincerity, “if I fail in this, you’re more than welcome to kill me.”
    He gave a curt nod. “What do you need?”
    I told him. I didn’t need much. Money. My horse, my sword and vambraces, some supplies. Mostly I needed to get out of the City of Elua and to Marsilikos without