Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [280]
“No,” I said. “But it sounds like Captain Duval has.”
“I suppose some were bound to,” Sidonie murmured. “It’s a terrible strain.”
Claude de Monluc drew his sword. “Open the gates and stand aside, man! I heard the Queen’s words myself. Her highness is in command here.”
The guard screwed up his face. Now it looked as though he were about to burst into tears. “I don’t know what to do.”
“How many of the Palace Guard are with him?” de Monluc asked.
“Forty or fifty?” he guessed.
“We can take them, your highness,” de Monluc said to Sidonie. He gave me a grim, sidelong smile. “With Prince Imriel’s help, I don’t doubt it.”
“Elua, no!” Sidonie said in alarm. She glanced at Isabel de Bretel, who had gone ashen. “No violence. It’s not his fault. It’s no one’s fault.” She pressed her temples. “Imriel. Do you think you can persuade my mother that her presence is required more urgently here than among the wounded?”
“I’ll try,” I said. “And I’ll drag her here if I can’t.”
I rode quickly back to Elua’s Square, weaving and dodging hundreds of aimless, wandering pedestrians. I found Joscelin outside the tent where Lelahiah Valais was still working on Drustan’s injuries, and Ysandre and Phèdre within it. I bowed and explained the situation to the Queen.
“No.” Ysandre didn’t meet my eyes. “I had Isabel de Bretel cast in chains for speaking the truth to madness. I can’t possibly face her. I’m sorry. That’s why I abdicated the throne. It’s Sidonie’s duty now.”
“Sidonie refused your charge,” I said.
Ysandre shrugged. “She accepted the regency. We will discuss it later.”
“Your majesty!” I said sharply. “Will you force her to use violence against your own people?” She winced as though I’d struck her. I beheld the fault-lines of pride and shame in her and exploited them without mercy. “With all due respect, your majesty, your daughter’s ordeal has been worse than yours. And yet she has consented to bear this burden until you are ready to resume it. Will you truly weighten her load?”
That stung her.
Ysandre’s head rose, her cheeks flushing. “You dare speak to me thusly?”
“Yes,” I said ruthlessly.
“Ysandre,” Phèdre murmured. Her name, nothing else. The Queen looked askance at her. If there was anyone in the world who knew aught about carrying terrible burdens, it was Phèdre nó Delaunay.
“I’ll accompany you,” Drustan offered.
“No.” Ysandre closed her eyes, then opened them, squaring her shoulders in a familiar gesture. “No, stay. Lelahiah isn’t finished. Imriel is right. I need to do this.”
Exiting the tent, Ysandre summoned a company of the Palace Guard and placed them under Joscelin’s command. He accepted it without comment, bowing in the Cassiline manner. Back to the Palace we rode, a hundred strong. This time, people cleared the streets. Ysandre sat very straight in the saddle, her face stark. No one begged her for answers. Outside the gates of the Palace, she met Isabel de Bretel’s gaze without flinching.
“My lady de Bretel,” Ysandre said in a steady tone. “I am so very sorry for making you suffer.”
The elderly baronesse bowed her head. “Your majesty.”
Ysandre looked at the guard. “Open the gates.”
He did with alacrity. We entered the courtyard. The guards on the outer doors fidgeted.
“Summon Captain Duval,” Ysandre said. “Summon the guard. Summon the Royal Chamberlain Lord Robert and the household staff. I want them all assembled.”
They obeyed. We waited while ostlers and stable-lads peered at us, gaping. In a short while, there was a considerable crowd of guards and attendants spreading into the courtyard. I knew Diderot Duval by sight. He stared at us, flanked by uncertain guards, his face working helplessly. I pitied him.
“Hear me,” Ysandre said to them. “Until further notice, you will obey her highness Sidonie de la Courcel as the rightful and acknowledged regent of Terre d’Ange. Is that understood?”
Most murmured in agreement.
“Your majesty, no!” Captain Duval cried. “You’re ensorceled! This is madness, this is sedition—”
“Take him,” Ysandre ordered the guards surrounding