Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [210]
She shot a glance at me to see if I was mocking, but I wasn’t. “I thought so at the time. But it was just a means to keep me from discussing the past, lest I realize how much my memory was lacking.”
“So what did you talk about?” I asked.
“The future.” She gave another wry smile. “The glorious, peaceful, and just alliance of nations we would build. He laid out a bold, sweeping vision of the reforms he imagined for Carthage’s role in this empire, such as eliminating the slave-trade. Nothing that could be accomplished immediately, mind you, but things that would come in time if we were patient and diligent.”
“He played to the best in you,” I said softly.
“Mayhap.” Sidonie raked a hand through her disheveled hair. “Or mayhap to a strain of that L’Envers’ ambition I didn’t know I harbored. Noble aspirations are no excuse for conquest. I don’t know. It shames me to remember it.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I believed him, though,” she said. “In him, in his vision. And there’s a part of me that wonders . . . in the beginning, when it was all new and fresh, it truly seemed Astegal believed it, too.”
“When did it change?” I asked.
“I suppose it started in Carthage.” She hugged her knees. “On the ship, he’d led me to believe I’d be involved in matters of import once we were there. That I’d have a voice, responsibilities as I’d had in Terre d’Ange. But once we arrived, he kept telling me that the Council wasn’t ready, that it wasn’t Carthage’s way. That I had to be patient, and everything would change after Aragonia fell. So I was. Dumb, patient, and obedient.”
“Not to hear Bodeshmun tell it,” I said.
“It got worse after Astegal left,” Sidonie said. “That was when I became restless and bored. But I didn’t begin to doubt until you entered my life.” She smiled wistfully. “Or at least Leander Maignard did, reeking of pomade, beating me at chess and stirring strange thoughts and yearnings in me.”
“Not to mention gazing at you like a lovelorn pup,” I added.
“Yes.” She glanced at me, tears in her eyes. “That too. And I’m so grateful that you came for me, but . . . oh, gods! I wish none of it had ever happened. I wish I could forget it. And I can’t.”
I slid behind Sidonie and embraced her, holding her while she wept, her body shaking with an anguish she’d not let herself feel until now. My heart ached for her and I wished there were words I could say that would ease the pain, but there weren’t. That was one truth I knew all too well. Hurting was part of the healing.
“It gets better, love,” I said. “That, I promise.”
She laughed through her tears, sniffling. “Good. Because I hate this.”
I smiled against her hair. “I know.”
Afterward, Sidonie slept. I stayed awake for a time, watching her and thinking a thousand thoughts. But at length, I slept, too.
In the morning there was word.
The Euskerri wished to meet with us in the hall of the guest-house.
Sixty-Two
“What?” Sidonie’s voice cracked with outrage when she heard the Euskerri’s terms. A few of them flinched. There was no sign of last night’s wounded young woman in her. This was Ysandre de la Courcel’s heir in a rare fury. “Why in Blessed Elua’s name would you insist on such a thing?”
The Euskerri were demanding that she accompany them to Amílcar.
And that I join them in battle.
“You said you would ensure that the Aragonians keep their word,” Janpier Iturralde reminded her. “We do not trust them. If we are victorious over Carthage, the agreement with Aragonia must be witnessed. As the arbiter of this accord, it is your duty.”
She struggled for control. “I pledged my word, not my person. I have a duty to my country. And Terre d’Ange’s role in this will be meaningless if we’re not able to free her from the spell that binds it.”
Janpier translated her words. There was a rapid spate of argumentative Euskerri, resulting eventually in nods. “Terre d’Ange’s role may be meaningless anyway,” Janpier said calmly. “We do not believe that you have the authority to speak on behalf of Terre d’Ange, not with your country divided against itself. It is Aragonia