Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [314]
I saw joy and relief on the faces of many near me as they gave back the shouts of the defenders, but my own heart was too heavy for rejoicing. I saw the stricken grief in the faces of the soldiers of the Royal Army, struggling to understand what they had done. I saw Brys nó Rinforte, trembling with shame. I saw the stern resolve in the faces of the Unforgiven, who would never be done atoning for their own crime, and I saw Ysandre's chirurgeon and her assistant moving among the ranks, beginning the business of attending to the wounded and dying. I saw the glazed eyes of the Camaeline cavalryman I'd ridden around, and the hand of the village boy clutching in disbelief at the arrow shaft emerging from his flesh. I saw the shadow that haunted Ti-Philippe's smile, and remembered how my heart had been like a stone after Remy and Fortun were slain.
These things should not be.
And this sorrow, too, I saw in the face of Ysandre de la Courcel, who gazed at a man she had trusted since birth, her Royal Commander, a hero of the realm, sovereign Duc of L'Agnace, kin to her and a Prince of the Blood on her grandmother's side.
I think he felt it, too; what would have transpired next between them, I cannot say, for shouting of a different tenor arose from the walls. I looked up to see them pointing toward the north, and a ripple of sound coming from the outlying verge of the Royal Army, resolving sighting into words.
Ghislain was coming.
"Let him pass," Ysandre said.
He came armed for battle, bearing the colors and standard of House Trevalion, deep-blue with three ships and the Navigator's Star, and some three hundred men rode with. him. The Royal Army parted ranks to allow his company throughas he rode unerringly toward us. Ysandre watched him calmly, ordering the Unforgiven to stand aside.
They had ridden hard, their horses lathered and near-spent. Ghislain de Somerville drew rein before Ysandre and his company halted behind him, motionless to a man as he removed his helmet and pressed a clenched fist to his breast.
"My Queen," he said, a catch in his voice; his face was strained with emotion.
Ysandre inclined her head. "My lord de Somerville."
"Name me not thusly, majesty." Ghislain turned his head to his father, mingled hatred and love suffusing his features. "Is it true?"
Percy de Somerville did not look away, although there was a dreadful anguish in his eyes. Whatever else he was, he was no coward. "Yes."
Ghislain flinched as if at a blow, then extended his closed fist and opened it. A length of green cloth fell to the trodden ground, and I glimpsed the embroidered branches of an apple tree, the insignia of the de Somerville line. "In the name of Elua and Anael," he said harshly, "I renounce my House. Ghislain de Somerville is no more."
I felt tears stand in my eyes, and the blood beat hard in my head, a rush of bronze-winged sound, a tinge of crimson washing over my blurred vision. Percy de Somerville bowed his head in grief, his broad shoulders hunched, and I knew something had broken in him.
My lord Kushiel is cruel and just.
"It is heard and acknowledged," Ysandre said quietly, and there was compassion in her gaze. "My lords and ladies of Terre d'Ange, let us go home."
Barquiel L'Envers met us at the gates of the City, where something of a sombre mood had begun to settle after the initial rejoicing; there would be no triumph to celebrate this victory, only a low murmur as they exchanged the kiss of greeting. I do not know what words they spoke. When they parted, L'Envers glanced at me, a trace of the old, familiar irony glinting in his eye.
"Delaunay's anguissette" he acknowledged me. "You send a timely message."
"I am glad you heeded it, my lord," I said politely.
"Your wording was rather persuasive." He raised his brows. "Ysandre, will you reclaim your throne? I find the stewardship of it an onerous task."
Thus did the Queen of Terre d'Ange return to the City of Elua. The streets were thronged with people, and many of them wept openly as she