Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [284]
And it reached back farther into the tales of those who had shaped them: Anafiel Delaunay, Phèdre’s mentor and patron. A grandfather I’d never known whose vicious charm had shaped my mother’s youth. On and on it spiraled, backward into the mists of time.
But it would go forward, too. I thought of the words I’d spoken to the injured young noblewoman today. The story would go on and on. One day, Sidonie’s and my great-grandchildren would stand in the Hall of Portraits, holding their own children’s hands. They would point to our likenesses and tell our story.
These were your great-great-grandparents . . .
And they would live tales of their own, spinning it ever farther into the future. On and on without end.
My voice faltered and ran dry. I’d reached the present. The balance of our story was yet to be written.
In the silence that followed, no one spoke. Phèdre was the first to move. She came forward, her eyes shining with too many emotions to name. It didn’t feel right to be raised on the dais, so I stepped down to her level, then helped Sidonie down beside me. Phèdre embraced us both in wordless gratitude.
They all came forward then—Drustan and Ysandre, Joscelin. Ghislain nó Trevalion. All the hundreds of peers and citizens and soldiers packed into the hall. They embraced us and they embraced one another. Raul L’Envers y Aragon was there, his face streaming with tears. His wife, Colette, whom I’d known since I was a youth; her brother, Julian, unfamiliar in an officer’s livery. Mavros. Courtiers and priests and chambermaids, all mingling together. Kratos, a limping hero.
I embraced them all—I, who had once been a damaged, brooding boy reluctant to be touched. I took them into my heart and held them there.
And through it all, I felt the lingering echo of the presence of Blessed Elua and his Companions—a promise of hope, a promise of healing, a promise of happiness. And always, I felt Sidonie’s presence, as sure and unfailing as sunlight, her heart bound to mine by a golden cord.
How long it lasted, I couldn’t say. Three hours, four . . . the moment stretched, endless and infinite.
It was what was needful.
It lasted as long as it lasted.
Slowly, slowly, it moved onward. The throng began to thin. They took our story and our blessing and carried it out into the City. The Queen’s Couriers took Sidonie’s proclamation and rode forth to announce in every quarter that Carthage’s spell was broken and the realm was at peace.
In the streets, strangers embraced and wept.
Poets in their chambers began to scribble notes.
The Secretary of the Presence’s assistants began to transcribe copies of her record, preparing to send them throughout the realm.
In the nearly empty hall, I sat on the edge of the dais and sighed. Sidonie stood beside me, resting one hand on my shoulder. Apart from the attendant guards standing at a discreet distance and the hovering chamberlain, almost everyone had left. Only those who loved us best remained.
“So.” Ysandre broke the long, long silence. Her violet eyes were bemused. “Terre d’Ange owes its freedom to Melisande Shahrizai?”
I nodded wearily. “In a sense.”
Joscelin shook his head. “The humors of the gods are perverse.”
“Yes.” Phèdre’s gaze rested on us, on Sidonie and me. “But in the end, they are merciful.”
Mercy.
Just the sound of the word felt like the touch of grace. I closed my eyes, feeling the tide of exhaustion returning to claim me, a spiraling weight dragging me downward. And then I forced them open so I could look at Sidonie. Her face was swimming in my vision and there was a sparkling darkness behind my eyes. I’d slept very little in the past few days.
“What will you?” Drustan asked his daughter.
“Food.” Sidonie’s fingers brushed over the lump on the back of my skull, feather-light. “And sleep.”
“Sleep,” I echoed.
And then the sparkling darkness took me.
I roused briefly, long enough to allow myself to be assisted to a bed. I was vaguely aware of voices. I let them slip away and slid back into the darkness.
I slept and dreamed. I dreamed of blood and war and