Chapter XV. Treachery’s Fruit
XV
TREACHERY’S FRUIT
“IT WAS NEAR dusk before I made sense of what the hell had happened.”
Gabriel’s stare was fixed across the river, locked on his sister.
“Lieutenant Mathieu had taken charge of Charlotte’s body, Lachie, and the other fallen, beginning the grim task of tallying the slain.
But a handful of lads in León colors came with me as I went in search of Dior.
The slow chill of shock was sinking into the city’s bones, and the ironworks were still burning hot, that blessed steam rolling through those streets now so thick I couldn’t see but two feet in front of my face.
I was all out of sanctus, still too wounded to move quickly or well, and it was near noon before Joaquin and his fellows found me blundering among the carnage in the noble quarter.
“‘Chevalier, thank God,’ the lad gasped, bending double. ‘I’ve been searching f—’
“‘Where’s Dior?’
“‘In the ironmonger’s w—’
“‘No shit, pigdick, where the fuck are they? I can’t see anything in this soup!’
“‘Follow me.’
“And so I did, stumbling about for another hour behind the houndboy until I was almost ready to throttle him.
But finally, we bumbled our way into the Guild Quarter, and from there, even blind, I basically knew the way.
The wind was still blowing, deathly chill, and the fog over Augustin was beginning to lift as we finally spotted it, towering above those bloody streets like a silent headstone—the marvel that was La Rivière de Fer.
“The building was surrounded by chevaliers of the crown and men in golden tabards, a great gaggle of commonfolk and guildsmen. Pushing my way through the crush, I saw a familiar figure, clad in torn mail and a tabard of bloody blue.
“‘Survived, Fontaine? Lucky for us.’
“Duke Maarten’s face darkened at the sight of me, the lips I’d split parted in a snarl.
“‘I should see you hanged for insubordination, bastard.’
“‘The soldiers I saved at Lastbridge might sing different. And the princess who saved us all definitely will.’
“Maarten’s face dropped at that, eyes downturned. I looked about me and saw the grim expressions among the soldiery, commonfolk weeping, belly running cold.
“‘What’s happened?’ I whispered.
“And Maarten told me.
“Isabella was in the throne room when I found her. She’d dismissed all save her personal guards, but they were wise enough to let me pass once they saw the look on my face.
The Empress stood with her back to me, looking out of a tall window on the broken city she yet ruled; a portrait framed in faint soot-stained light.
“She didn’t even turn as I entered.
“Isabella de Augustin had the seeming of a goddess when I’d first met her.
A sixteen-year-old cub I was. She’d arrived at San Michon at the head of her army, clad in a golden gown and silver breastplate; the mother of empire, dressed for war.
I could still feel her blade kissing my shoulders as she’d declared me Sword of the Realm before all my brethren.
That was still one of the proudest moments of my life.
I’d served her faithfully for five years afterward, the sword she’d gifted me singing in my hand.
“Isabella’s Lion.
“I’d come to know my Empress well during my service.
And after a few too many wines and a few too many victory feasts, I’d glimpsed the woman behind the royal facade.
Despite the fact she’d been behind Astrid’s banishment from court, I’d even come to think of her as a sort of friend.
Isabella loved her people. Her husband, in her way.
Most of all, she loved her children. But she was prideful, my friend.
Vain. She nursed grudges like a beggar his beer, and stood before her now, I knew she was still angry with me.
“We’d never spoken after my excommunication.
“After I’d abandoned loyalty for love.
“‘Empress.’
“Isabella turned as I spoke, and I saw she was weeping. I’d never seen her do that, not in all my time as her sword. And as she swept toward me, throwing trembling arms about me, she collapsed in heaving sobs, fighting just to breathe.
“‘G-Gabriel…’
“‘I’m sorry, Bella.’
“‘Gabriel, h-he … oh my p-poor Philippe…’
“‘I know,’ I whispered, holding her tight. ‘I know, Bella. I’m so sorry.’”
The Last Silversaint hung his head.
“What a waste of breath. What a weak and worthless nothing is the word sorry at a time like that. Sorry doesn’t bring back your children, Historian.
Sorry is the thing we say when there is nothing to say, but silence feels a sin.
We say sorry to comfort ourselves, not the ones we say it to.
And I knew it, too. So I shut my fucking mouth and stood with my old friend in my arms, and let her weep for her murdered son.
“But in the end …
“‘Bella, I need horses. Supplies.’
“My old friend looked up at that, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“‘… W-why?’
“‘He’s taken her. Voss. He’s taken Dior, Bella. I need to run him down before—’
“‘You…’
“The arms she’d thrown about me fell away, and she backed off, whispering.
“‘You … dare speak to me of Dior Lachance?’
“Isabella bared her teeth, the bloodshot sapphire of her eyes ablaze.
“‘That serpent? That treacherous, poisonous, pompous little cunt? She who lied with every breath she could muster to worm her way into my son’s arms? Philippe died defending her, Gabriel! Slaughtered like some hog on a hook! Do you understand what that means? The line of Maximille the Conqueror is ended because of HER!’
“‘And I go to end the one who extinguished it!’
“I reached for her hands, but she snatched them away.
“‘Voss is weak, Bella! His legion gone, his children slain! If ever we had a chance to end him, it’s now! I already have the men! Thousands of soldiers in de León colors with a hell of a score to settle. Give us horses to run him down and I swear—’
“‘You swear?’
“Bitter laughter turned to a snarl.
“‘You SWEAR? You, who swore to love God and no other? To serve the realm before himself? What then is it worth, the troth of a liar? A traitor? A whoremonger?’
“‘My wife was no—’
“‘Astrid Rennier was a viper while she lived here at court, and a viper when she and her slattern mother were banished thereafter! That you were fool enough to bed my husband’s bastard speaks only to the sweetness of her venom, and that she tarnished my Sword in her quim bears testament to the treachery in her heart!’
“I clenched my jaw, holding my rebuke behind my teeth.
“‘I need horses, Bella.’
“‘And I needed a Sword who could keep his fool cock in his britches! I needed a man who would serve the crown before himself!’
“She shook her head, lip curling.
“‘It seems even empresses don’t always get what they need. Yet men ever seem to.’
“‘After all these years…’ I shook my head, my voice a whisper. ‘You’ve still not forgiven I chose to stand with Astrid rather than kneel before you. And now you’ll let Dior and realm both pay the price for it?’
“‘You betrayed me. Now taste treachery’s fruit.’
“Isabella sniffed hard, pawing the tears from her eyes.
“‘We reject your request, Chevalier de León. Augustin has suffered too grievous a blow to spare what you ask. Furthermore, you are forbidden to drain troops from our walls for this fool’s gambit, no matter the colors they wear. Our enemy may return, and Augustin’s mothers have already given too m-many sons. ’
“Her facade almost cracked then. But still, she lifted her chin.
“‘We must rebuild. Strike at Voss after we have regained our strength.’
“‘By then it w—’
“‘The crown has spoken. Capitaine?’
“The doors behind me opened at Isabella’s call. ‘Empress?’
“‘Escort the good chevalier out.’
“I searched those sapphire eyes for the woman behind the facade. Any trace of my old friend. But all I found was a mother mourning. A dynast without a dynasty.
“An Empress.
“And bowing low, I marched from the room.”