Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [126]
She nodded. "That's fair. I ask nothing, only that you think on it."
"What about Duc Barquiel?" I asked, my voice hard. "You know, now, what he has done. What penalty for him?"
Ysandre looked weary. "If you wish, you may bring a case against him in Parliament. I can tell you what he will say. He will claim it an ill-conceived jest at your expense, and nothing more. I tell you truthfully, it is best dealt with in private." She sighed. "Let me keep the letter. I will ask him to step down from command of the Royal Army. Will that suffice?"
"Oh, he'd hate that." Joscelin grinned.
I thought about the suspicion in Bertran's eyes, the way former friends avoided me at Court. "It's not enough," I said. "Barquiel L'Envers smeared my name with treason. I want a public apology from him."
"You won't get it." The Queen's voice was candid. "I know my uncle, and he doesn't bend easily. This"—she waved the letter—"this is insufficiently damning. It's third-hand innuendo from a source admittedly biased toward Phèdre nó Delaunay."
"Then we'll find Barquiel's man," I said. "And make him testify."
"You might," Ysandre said. "Or Barquiel might put him out of reach, or worse. Do you think he doesn't keep a watch posted over his estates? One move from House Montrève in that direction, and I wouldn't give a fig for the man's chances."
My blood ran cold. "So you'd just condone this? Let him get away with it?"
"That's not what I said." Her eyes flashed. "Name of Elua! Imriel, he slandered you. It's unpleasant and underhanded, but it's not a crime against the realm. If you pit yourself against him openly, you will earn his outright enmity. I do not want House Courcel torn apart over this. Use your head," she said grimly. "Barquiel will acquiesce if I reckon with him privately. He won't want to force my hand. And I will make a public proclamation that our investigation has proved you to be the butt of an unfriendly jest by unknown persons. Such is my offer."
I glanced at Phèdre, who looked troubled. "What do you think?"
She addressed Ysandre instead of answering me. "My lady, are you scared of him?"
"Of Barquiel?" The Queen's lids flickered slightly. "Of course not."
It was one of the tell-tales of a lie. Because of what Phèdre had taught me, I knew it. With an effort, I stepped away from my anger and stood outside myself, regarding Queen Ysandre. I beheld a woman who had been thrust into the role of greatness unprepared, who had faced tremendous challenges, who had fought long and hard with all the courage of her convictions to do what was best for her realm.
But the Ysandre de la Courcel who had ridden fearlessly between the ranks of a rebellious army was not the woman who sat the throne today. The burden of the Crown had taken a long, exhausting toll. She was afraid—afraid for her daughters, afraid for the future of relations between Terre d'Ange and Alba, afraid of what her ruthless uncle Barquiel L'Envers would do if openly provoked.
Afraid for me.
I sighed and wished I had seen less. And I thought about my oath to Sidonie, and what it would do to her if I forced House Courcel into schism—and to Alais, the one member of my kin who had always trusted me unreservedly.
"Your majesty, it will suffice." Though my heart was heavy and the words left a bitter taste in my mouth, I said them. "As to the other… I'll think about it."
Ysandre inclined her head. "Thank you."
"Imriel." Drustan hesitated, then spoke. "I think you would like Dorelei. I would never have proposed this if I thought you were ill-suited."
I had always liked and admired the Cruarch of Alba. Today, I didn't. "Do you know what, my lord?" I said to him. "Right now, I don't care."
With that, I turned on my heel and made my exit.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
All was done as the Queen promised. Within a day, her proclamation of my innocence was released. Several days later, it was quietly put about that Duc Barquiel L'Envers was stepping down from command of the Royal Army, citing a desire for respite after years of long service. Ghislain nó Trevalion, Bertram