Kushiel's Scion (Imriel's Trilogy #1)

I stood and paced restlessly around the salon, rubbing my left hand. Did I risk the uncertainty of waiting or take certain freedom and the loss of my hand? Not my sword hand, at least, I thought, remembering Gilot. I wished he was here. He always had sensible advice, even if I usually ignored it. I wondered what he would say.

"I'm staying."

"Eamonn," Brigitta breathed. "No!"

"What?" He shrugged. "Imriel's not about to let Valpetra lop his damned hand off. Lucca's got high, strong walls, plenty of water, food enough for weeks, and a mad genius in command of its defense, even if he is a dead man." He grinned at her. "You can help rescue us when the D'Angelines come. We'll be here."

It was the beginning of a lengthy argument. I led Quentin LeClerc and his men quietly out of the villa and escorted them back to the gatehouse. He agreed to report back to Valpetra and return on the morrow. Whatever was decided in the argument, there was still the matter of getting Gallus Tadius to agree to the exchange.

"Your mind's settled?" LeClerc asked me atop the wall.

"Yes." I rubbed my hand. "I'm staying."

Under the watchful eyes of Gallus' guards, the ladder was lowered and they made their precarious, swaying descent. The last to go was the one who had remembered me from the embassy. He laid a hand on my shoulder.

"Have a care, your highness," he said. "Valpetra's up to somewhat over at the river."

I frowned. "What?"

"He's got his men digging a trench." He pointed. "Over on the far side. I don't reckon you can get a good look at it from the wall. But I grew up in Siovale, and unless I miss my guess, he means to try and dam the river."

"Ah, well." I relaxed. "Mayhap no one told him Lucca's got deep wells."

He nodded. "All the same, have a care."

"My thanks." I bade him farewell, then watched as they departed.

The D'Angeline banners still fluttered brightly in the breeze, but they no longer carried any hope with them. The distant Valpetran cavalry began to move and the lieutenant in charge of the wall that afternoon ordered me down.

I went to find Gallus Tadius.

He was in the empty common room of the city guard's barracks, poring over inventory lists and muttering to himself. I gazed at the top of his head, the familiar burst of dark auburn curls. It evoked fond memories of Tiberium. In a strange way, I was glad I wasn't leaving.

"Lucius Tadius da Lucca," I said without thinking. "What's Master Piero got you studying now?"

His head came up with a jerk. "Montrève?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Lucius?"

He blinked. "I don't…" He pressed his fingers to his temples and grimaced. "Sweet Apollo! My head hurts."

"Lucius." I yanked out the chair opposite him and sat. "Listen to me, quickly. You've got to give an order to free the Valpetran prisoners."

His face shifted. "Why?"

Leaning across the table, I grasped his arms, willing him to stay. "Valpetra's agreed to an exchange. Three for three. Claudia, Deccus, and Brigitta." I didn't expect Eamonn to lose that argument. "Safe passage to Tiberium."

"Tiberium," he murmured. "Montrève…" His brow furrowed. Elua, it looked like the lines were cut into his flesh by a chisel. "People have died because of me, haven't they?"

"Lucius, please." I tightened my grip. "Just do this."

He stared at me, his eyes lost and haunted in their bruised, sleepless hollows. "What must I say?"

I gave him words to say and dragged him bodily from the room, hauling him by one arm, terrified that he'd turn on me without notice. Outside, he shook me off, but said nothing. I watched his stride lengthen and his shoulders straighten as he flagged down a pair of mounted riders on day patrol.

"Soldier!" he snapped. "Carry a message to Captain Arturo for me. Tell him I've authorized the exchange of the Valpetran prisoners on the morrow."

They saluted. "Aye, sir!"

Once they'd ridden onward, he turned to me. His face was unreadable, neither quite Lucius or Gallus. "You know, I might change my mind about this."

"Please, don't." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Is that all you wanted?"

"Yes," I said. "I mean, no. I came to tell you…" I wasn't quite sure who I was talking to. "That is…"

"Spit it out, man!" he said impatiently.

Gallus.

"One of the D'Angelines told me he thinks Valpetra's trying to dam the river," I said. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Huh. He is, is he? Interesting." Behind the mask of his face, one could see the thoughts working. Clearly, the news meant more to Gallus Tadius than it had to me. He gave me a brisk nod of dismissal. "My thanks, lad."

"Aye, sir." I turned to go.

"D'Angeline!"

"My lord?"

He gave the back of his left hand a meaningful tap. His face wore the peculiar in-between look again. "Staying or going?"

"I'm staying," I said.

"Good." Gallus nodded, or Lucius did. "I'm glad."

With that, he strode back to the barracks. I watched him go, feeling more than a little bewildered myself, then made my way back to the villa.

Despite my news, the atmosphere there was grave. I was right, Eamonn had refused to be dissuaded. Brigitta was furious and grief-stricken. I stayed well out of their way and spent my time composing a letter to Phèdre and Joscelin. If all went well, if Denise Fleurais succeeded in raising an army of allies or hiring a condottiere's mercenary company, if Lucca held strong, I'd be free and on my way home to Terre d'Ange before winter.

If it didn't… well.

What does one say in such a letter? I didn't know. So I wrote about what had happened, and about Gilot's death. I told them that Eamonn was here with me. There was so much I wanted to say—about Claudia, the Unseen Guild, Bernadette de Trevalion, the mystery of Canis. But it would all take too long. Once I started, I knew I'd write myself dry; and I was wary of committing anything that might endanger them to paper. I thought about enclosing the letter that Ruggero Caccini had given me implicating Bernadette. I'd brought it with me for safekeeping. And yet, if it came to it, I didn't want my last act to be one of retribution. Let the blood feud die with me and pray that Kushiel's justice prevailed in the end. It was the farewells that mattered.

I told them how much I loved them, or tried to.

For that, there weren't enough words.

I nearly tore up the letter and started again, but there wasn't time. So I left my inadequate words on the page. I asked them to thank Mavros for the kinship of the Shahrizai, to give my love to Alais and my apologies to Queen Ysandre. After some hesitation, I asked them to tell Sidonie I wished her happiness. I fought down a wave of homesickness that brought tears to my eyes, and signed my name. I folded the letter, then reopened it and scrawled a postscript.

Thank you for the gift of my life, I wrote.

I sealed it without blotting it, before I could change my mind. And then, with dusk falling, I went to report for night patrol.

It was a quiet night. Quiet beyond the walls, quiet in the city, quiet between Eamonn and me. We spoke a little bit about his decision.

"I knew what you'd choose," he said simply. "And I couldn't let you stay here alone."

"Yes, you could."

"And let Deccus Fulvius take my place?" He glanced at me. "He's too old for this, Imri. I'm not, and I'm good at fighting if it comes to it."

"True," I said. "But as Deccus said, it's not your war. And you just got married."

"Oh, I know!" Eamonn grinned. "Brigitta is very angry. But Imri, listen. All that talk with Master Piero about virtue… honor, loyalty… what's it worth if we don't put it into practice? It's when the choices are hard that it matters."

At dawn we returned to the villa, yawning. I was thinking about how the nights were growing longer as the siege wore further into autumn and wondering if Gallus Tadius would be amenable to splitting the night patrol into two shifts. It felt like weeks since I'd had a proper night's sleep. Come to think on it, it likely was. Even on the road from Tiberium, I'd slept poorly, distracted by Claudia's proximity. And these days, no one got to sleep much.

"Imriel."

I blinked at Claudia, standing in the chilly atrium with a thick robe wrapped around her gown. For a few heartbeats, it seemed as though my thoughts had conjured her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know you're tired. But I wanted to see you."

Eamonn touched my shoulder. "I'll be in my chamber."

He took his leave, and Claudia and I went to the salon in the guest quarters. It was cold there, too. We sat side by side on one of the couches, she huddled in her robe and I wrapped in my cloak. Since I didn't know what to say to her, I waited for her to speak.

After a moment, she gave a short laugh. "I had a speech in mind. I lay awake half the night thinking of the right words. Now it's gone."

"Too little sleep," I said. "None of us are in our right wits."

"Imriel nó Montrève." Sliding one cold hand out of her sleeve, Claudia touched my hair, which hung long enough to touch my shoulders. "You let it grow," she murmured. "Do you remember I asked you to?"

I smiled. "All too well, my lady."

"Oh, indeed." A faint glimmer of her old carnal mischief surfaced in her answering smile. "I owe you my thanks."

"For my hair?" I asked stupidly.

"For my freedom." Claudia's expression turned grave. "For Deccus' and Brigitta's. And I promise you, whatever I can do to bring this siege to an end, I will. I will use any influence at my disposal to ensure that the D'Angeline ambassadress' negotiations fall upon willing ears and help comes swiftly."

I eyed her. "At what price?"

Claudia winced. "I deserve that, I suppose. There is no price, Imriel. I'll not use this to try to bind you to a promise, if that's what you're thinking."

It was. I gazed at her face, touched by the dawn light slanting through the window. There were fine lines at the corners of her eyes that had not been there before. The siege had aged her. She had watched her brother descend into madness, her father's spirit broken, her mother reduced by grief. "The Guild abandoned you," I said slowly. "And yet you're still loyal to them?"

"Yes." She offered no justification.

So be it. "Thank you," I said. "I appreciate your aid."

Claudia nodded. "I will do my best. Imriel… this is no price, but only a favor I ask. Will you do what you can to look out for my family?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes, of course. I hesitated. "Will you answer a question for me? Honestly and truthfully?"

"I'll try," she said.

"Who is Canis?" I asked. "Who sent him?"

"The beggar?" Her brown eyes were steady and clear, touched to amber by the dawn's rays. "I don't know."

"He's here, you know." I watched her pupils dilate. She hadn't known. "I think he may have been the one to send a message to Lady Denise. And I think he's done other things, too. Is he Guild?"

"I don't know." Nothing in her face betrayed her, but Claudia held my gaze too long. Only that, the most subtle of tell-tales. She lied very, very well. "I'm sorry, Imriel."

"So am I." I smiled at her, rueful and tired. "Yes, my lady. I will do all that is in my power to look out for your family, including your wraith-ridden brother. However," I added, turning my hands palm upward, "I fear that while the siege continues, my power is limited to whatever lies within these."

"No." To my surprise, Claudia took my hands in hers. Raising them to her lips, she kissed both my palms. "You have a kind heart."

"Not really." I swallowed. "Deccus…"

She laid her fingers over my lips, silencing me. "Deccus Fulvius is a good man with an unfaithful wife. It changes nothing. The truth of what I said stands." Taking her hand away, she kissed me, then rose. "And I have no regrets."

Elua, but she was a strong woman! I laughed softly. When all was said and done, I didn't want to trade my memories, either. "All right, my lady. No regrets. Except mayhap for a few deeds left undone."

Blowing me a final kiss, Claudia Fulvia left.

Too tired to seek my bed, I rolled myself in my cloak and fell asleep on the couch.

When I dreamed, I dreamed of Claudia.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

The transfer went smoothly.

We were all there to see it effected. I was in an agony of fear that Gallus Tadius would change his mind and rescind his order, but he was nowhere in evidence. The three Valpetran prisoners were released. They were dirty and disoriented, blinking at the sudden emergence into daylight, but their wounds had been tended and all three were alive.

It took some time to get them down the ladder, and longer for Quentin LeClerc's men to escort them into their condottiere's custody, where their identity was confirmed. The wall was bristling with armed guards, but Valpetra's men agreed to the continued truce and maintained their distance.

Once it was done, it was time for our three to go.

We said our farewells. Claudia was warmly cordial. Deccus Fulvius shook my hand firmly. He would have shaken Eamonn's, too, but he and Brigitta were locked in a tight embrace.