Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [248]
Sidonie was right.
This was not our City.
We halted outside the door of one of Ysandre’s private salons while Ghislain exchanged a word with the guards. I watched Sidonie’s shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, bracing herself. Kratos placed himself at her side, unbidden. She gave him a look of gratitude. Good. That was all right. No one had cause to believe he was aught but Astegal’s loyal man. He could lend her the support I couldn’t, and no one would think twice at it.
The door was opened.
We were ushered into the salon.
Ysandre and Drustan were awaiting us. They stood side by side: the Queen of Terre d’Ange and the Cruarch of Alba, united. I saw Ysandre take in my presence, and I saw suspicion dawn on her features. Drustan’s expression was unreadable behind his woad tattoos. Ghislain and a dozen of his men remained as the door was closed behind us.
“Sidonie.” Ysandre uttered her daughter’s name without a trace of warmth. Drustan said nothing, only watched his eldest, the black eyes she’d inherited hard and appraising. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Your majesties.” Sidonie curtsied deeply and held it. She spoke without lifting her head. “My husband Astegal, Prince of the House of Sarkal, General of Carthage, is dead.”
As before, there was a world of grief behind the words, not for Astegal, but for the City of Elua, for her mother and father, and all who dwelled in the City. It didn’t matter. It was real. It sufficed.
Ysandre paled. “How?”
Sidonie straightened. “It was the Euskerri. Serafin L’Envers y Aragon made a treaty with them. Together they defeated Astegal’s army outside Amílcar. Astegal . . .” She paused. “I am told . . . I am told he was captured and executed. He had left orders for me to flee for my own safety. And there is more—”
“House L’Envers!” Ysandre hissed the word, nails digging into her own forearms. “I should have known it. This conspiracy grows vaster by the day. I swear to Blessed Elua, I could claw that cursed blood from my own veins if I could!”
“Hold.” Drustan lifted one hand. “You said there was more,” he said to Sidonie. “Speak.”
“A ray of hope.” She gazed at her father. “One last gift of my lord’s kinsman Bodeshmun. It is why I was sent swiftly and in secret.”
Ysandre and Drustan exchanged a glance. “Then let us hear this tale in its entirety,” Ysandre said. She pointed at me. “And you may begin with how and why Melisande Shahrizai’s oft-vanished son comes to reappear in your company.”
There were nods and mutters of agreement among Ghislain’s men.
Sidonie inclined her head and began to speak.
In the end, I daresay it was Barquiel L’Envers’ long-standing and well-known dislike of me that sold my end of the tale. They knew he’d helped me get out of the City. When Sidonie stated her belief that he’d done it to get me out of the way for good, it struck a chord. We already knew Joscelin believed it to be true.
“No doubt Uncle Barquiel believed Astegal would be swift to dispatch Imriel when he showed up in Carthage with this mad fantasy of rescuing me.” Sidonie’s voice softened. “But he didn’t know my husband. Astegal took pity on Imriel and had his physicians treat him as best they could. He was kind that way. He had a generous, noble heart.”
Everyone nodded.
I swallowed my bile and tried to look humble.
“And what do you believe now, Imriel de la Courcel?” Drustan asked in an implacable tone.
I spread my hands. “I believe whatever Sidonie tells me. I know there are thoughts in my head that are wrong. I know Sidonie doesn’t love me. I saw that in Carthage. But I believe whatever she tells me, and I would never do anything to harm her or any of you. I just don’t want to be sent away again.”
I sounded like a simpleton to my own ears, but they seemed willing to accept it.
“This is Kratos.” Sidonie switched to Hellene, laying a hand on Kratos’ arm. “He was my lord’s most trusted bodyguard, the companion of his childhood. At Astegal’s command, he has seen me safe these long weeks. Now that we are here, he has agreed to keep watch