come spring.”
I winced. “I’d forgotten.”
She kissed me. “She’s like to forgive you. She’s got larger matters to consider.”
Of a surety, that was true. Unlike Sidonie, I’d always regarded Alais as a sister, a true sister. And although she was young, she was older now than Sidonie had been when first I’d begun to fall in love with her. Alais was still affianced to her own cousin in Alba, Drustan’s nephew, Talorcan. The wedding had been postponed a number of times.
Everything had been so certain once.
The lines of succession in Alba were matrilineal. Terre d’Ange had feared losing its foothold. That was why Ysandre and Drustan had pressed me to wed Dorelei, Talorcan’s sister. Our son would have been his heir.
Our son, the monster.
Now Alais was pressing for change. She was willing to wed Talorcan . . . but she wanted assurance that their children would inherit.
“I don’t blame her,” Sidonie said. “’Tis a rule based on men’s mistrust of women and fear of being cuckolded. I daresay there are any number of Alban women who would support her in this, and a few men, too, when you come to it.”
“Drustan’s thoughts changed after he became a father, didn’t they?” I asked.
She nodded. “He can’t do it, though. It’s tied too closely to Maelcon the Usurper’s revolt.”
It was yet another event that had happened long before we were born. The old Cruarch’s son, Maelcon, had seized the throne and overturned the old traditions of succession. Drustan, the Cruarch’s nephew and heir, had fled into exile among the Dalriada. In time, with the aid of the Dalriada—not to mention Phèdre and Joscelin—Drustan had raised an army of his own and taken the throne back. He had restored the matrilineal lines. There would be a fearful outcry against the hypocrisy if he overturned them now.
“Gods.” I groaned. “I know it’s not old history to those who lived it, but I get infernally tired of having our lives shackled to the past.”
“I know,” Sidonie said with sympathy. “Believe me, I do. But it won’t be forever, or at least not all of it. Mayhap the Ephesian ambassador will have a swift reply at a cost we’re willing to bear.”
“Mayhap,” I said. “Claudia said there were factions within the Guild, and I got the sense Agallon was no ally of my mother’s. If he had been, he would have known the medallion’s origin and dangled it before me as a surety, not a possibility. I pray he can discover it, and I pray he’s willing and eager to betray her, because that’s exactly what we need.”
It had been one of the factors, a big one, in my decision to contact Diokles Agallon. Ysandre had made her decree in a public forum, heard and acknowledged. By now, all of Terre d’Ange knew, and gossip had doubtless spread beyond our borders. There was simply no way my mother was unaware of it. And while I had come to believe that she did indeed love me in her own way, I didn’t think she was likely to wait patiently for me to find her and fetch her back to Terre d’Ange to be executed, a notion that made me queasy when I contemplated it.
No, if I tried to trace her trail, years old, amid a tangled maze of allies and enemies, Melisande would know. She would know my next step before I took it. It would be child’s play for her to stay a step ahead of me.
Taking her by surprise was our best chance. And even at that, even if Agallon
did
betray her, even with Ysandre’s promise of aid, I didn’t expect it to be easy.
The decision came at a price, though. Seeking to bargain with the Guildsman might have been the most expedient course with the best chance of success, but no one could know of it. Sidonie told her mother; Ysandre extracted a promise that I’d not grant any favors without her consent. And I told Phèdre and Joscelin, of course. Beyond that, we didn’t dare tear away the Unseen Guild’s veil of secrecy.
I had been allowed to walk away from the Guild, but there
I winced. “I’d forgotten.”
She kissed me. “She’s like to forgive you. She’s got larger matters to consider.”
Of a surety, that was true. Unlike Sidonie, I’d always regarded Alais as a sister, a true sister. And although she was young, she was older now than Sidonie had been when first I’d begun to fall in love with her. Alais was still affianced to her own cousin in Alba, Drustan’s nephew, Talorcan. The wedding had been postponed a number of times.
Everything had been so certain once.
The lines of succession in Alba were matrilineal. Terre d’Ange had feared losing its foothold. That was why Ysandre and Drustan had pressed me to wed Dorelei, Talorcan’s sister. Our son would have been his heir.
Our son, the monster.
Now Alais was pressing for change. She was willing to wed Talorcan . . . but she wanted assurance that their children would inherit.
“I don’t blame her,” Sidonie said. “’Tis a rule based on men’s mistrust of women and fear of being cuckolded. I daresay there are any number of Alban women who would support her in this, and a few men, too, when you come to it.”
“Drustan’s thoughts changed after he became a father, didn’t they?” I asked.
She nodded. “He can’t do it, though. It’s tied too closely to Maelcon the Usurper’s revolt.”
It was yet another event that had happened long before we were born. The old Cruarch’s son, Maelcon, had seized the throne and overturned the old traditions of succession. Drustan, the Cruarch’s nephew and heir, had fled into exile among the Dalriada. In time, with the aid of the Dalriada—not to mention Phèdre and Joscelin—Drustan had raised an army of his own and taken the throne back. He had restored the matrilineal lines. There would be a fearful outcry against the hypocrisy if he overturned them now.
“Gods.” I groaned. “I know it’s not old history to those who lived it, but I get infernally tired of having our lives shackled to the past.”
“I know,” Sidonie said with sympathy. “Believe me, I do. But it won’t be forever, or at least not all of it. Mayhap the Ephesian ambassador will have a swift reply at a cost we’re willing to bear.”
“Mayhap,” I said. “Claudia said there were factions within the Guild, and I got the sense Agallon was no ally of my mother’s. If he had been, he would have known the medallion’s origin and dangled it before me as a surety, not a possibility. I pray he can discover it, and I pray he’s willing and eager to betray her, because that’s exactly what we need.”
It had been one of the factors, a big one, in my decision to contact Diokles Agallon. Ysandre had made her decree in a public forum, heard and acknowledged. By now, all of Terre d’Ange knew, and gossip had doubtless spread beyond our borders. There was simply no way my mother was unaware of it. And while I had come to believe that she did indeed love me in her own way, I didn’t think she was likely to wait patiently for me to find her and fetch her back to Terre d’Ange to be executed, a notion that made me queasy when I contemplated it.
No, if I tried to trace her trail, years old, amid a tangled maze of allies and enemies, Melisande would know. She would know my next step before I took it. It would be child’s play for her to stay a step ahead of me.
Taking her by surprise was our best chance. And even at that, even if Agallon
did
betray her, even with Ysandre’s promise of aid, I didn’t expect it to be easy.
The decision came at a price, though. Seeking to bargain with the Guildsman might have been the most expedient course with the best chance of success, but no one could know of it. Sidonie told her mother; Ysandre extracted a promise that I’d not grant any favors without her consent. And I told Phèdre and Joscelin, of course. Beyond that, we didn’t dare tear away the Unseen Guild’s veil of secrecy.
I had been allowed to walk away from the Guild, but there
Similar Books
