Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [223]
There were tears in the eyes of many of the Euskerri present when his words were translated. One of them rose to speak.
“Yesterday we gained a nation and lost the flower of a generation,” he said simply in accented Aragonian. “We will strive to make Euskerria into a nation worthy of their sacrifice.”
“Your highness?” Ramiro Zornín de Aragon said to Sidonie.
She rose. “On behalf of Terre d’Ange, this concord is heard and witnessed. Like my kinsman, I lack the full weight of authority to speak for my country. But as I am my mother’s heir, I swear in the name of Blessed Elua and his Companions that while my memory lives, I will do all in my power to see that this accord is kept in good faith.”
So it was done.
There was no rejoicing among the Euskerri; the cost had been too high. And Amílcar was a city torn between victory and loss, aware of the struggle that lay ahead. But it was done.
Afterward I yielded to wisdom and retired to my bed to ease my leg. The wound appeared clean enough, but it felt as though someone were holding a hot poker to my thigh. And I reckoned if there were any folk who could be trusted to make travel arrangements with swift efficiency, it was Sidonie and Lady Nicola. I slept fitfully and woke to find Sidonie perched on the side of the bed and gazing at me.
“Well?” I asked.
She smiled for the first time in days. “I found Captain Deimos. With Lady Nicola’s aid, he’s procured a new ship and reassembled his crew, and he’s willing to carry us to Marsilikos.”
I pushed myself upright. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Sidonie said. “He’s impatient to be free of Amílcar and he thinks the seas will be calm enough. He also thinks your mother will have his head if he doesn’t see you home safely.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “Did you find Kratos?”
“Oh, yes.” Her smile deepened. “He was very excited. He embraced me and turned fifty shades of red while apologizing for the importunity. His burns are well on their way to healing. He wishes to travel to Terre d’Ange with us and plans to meet us tomorrow.”
“Can Deimos make ready to sail on the morrow?” I asked.
“He thinks so,” she said. “At least by noon.”
“After Astegal’s execution,” I said.
Sidonie took my hand. “I spent an hour in the infirmary visiting the wounded. It’s . . .” She shook her head. “It’s awful, Imriel. I’m willing to cede my own need for vengeance. But I need to see him die. For everything he did.” She was quiet a moment. “I talked to several of Duke Leopoldo’s men in the infirmary. Paskal fought alongside them after he brought word of our plan. One of them remembered seeing him slain on the battlefield. And I asked after Captain Aureliano and his men, the ones who helped us escape. They never returned.”
“Ah, Elua!” I whispered.
“I know.” Sidonie sighed with sorrow and regret. “Do you know, I begin to understand my mother better. I pray to Blessed Elua that the likes of this never comes again in our lifetimes. But if one of our haughty girls declared herself in love with Astegal’s son, I suspect my reaction would be less than rational.”
I squeezed her hand. “Your father tried to tell me as much.”
“He’s a wise man,” she murmured.
My throat tightened. “Are you sorry?”
“About you?” Sidonie gave me a quick look. “No! Gods, no. About a thousand other things, yes. I wish I’d had the courage to trust in Blessed Elua’s precept years ago and defy my mother. I wish I’d argued more forcefully against letting Bodeshmun show us his damned marvel. I wish I didn’t have the weight of thousands of dead