I thought about Valiana, to whom I’d given my name until Jillard had taken it away, but oddly, it was to Ethalia my eyes went. ‘I have no children of my own, no.’
‘I have a boy,’ Lyssande said, ‘six years old, and a girl, a year younger. Life’s been hard for my village since before my children were born, and yet they face each day so bravely, smiling when they find a bush in berry, playing at Greatcoats with nothing more than a bit of stick.’ She turned to the others. ‘I don’t know why we lose ourselves so easily in this country, but we are not born to be slaves. That is not our way.’
‘And who’s going to fight for your “way”, you silly cow?’ Darriana sneered. She gestured towards the door. ‘Have you been outside? Those pathetic conscripts? They are the dregs – actually, they’re the dregs of dregs. They’re not going to make a good impression on anyone.’
Then she turned to face me. ‘How many times have these fine upstanding Tristians let you down, Falcio? Remind me: when the Dukes came for the one King who’d actively tried to better their lot, did they rise up? When the Blacksmith orchestrated his takeover and set his little churchmen against this country and this country’s Gods, did all these farmers and craftspeople and ditch-diggers fight? No, they bowed down.’
She looked back at Lyssande and said, ‘I’m surprised you aren’t already on your knees. And when the Avareans come and those brave children of yours see every adult in their village bow to the invaders, you can bet they’ll learn to be cowards just like everyone else.’
‘And how much courage does it take to denigrate those who haven’t spent a lifetime learning to fight?’ Ethalia asked.
Darriana looked chastened, but only for a moment before her angry, bitter self took over again. ‘So look who’s found her claws.’ She gestured to the duelling circle. ‘Is today the day we finally see your full measure?’
‘It certainly isn’t the day we see yours,’ Ethalia said. ‘Terrifying this woman who has no sword, no armour? She comes before you asking for hope – an act far more courageous than anything I’ve seen from you today.’ She hesitated for a moment, and I saw her rising fury give way to a gentler impulse. ‘I expected better of you, Darriana.’
Darri’s face went redder than I’d ever seen it. ‘One day,’ she muttered. Oddly, it was not so much a threat as a promise.
‘One day,’ Ethalia agreed. ‘But not today.’
Finally Darri nodded, ‘Not today.’ She turned to Lyssande and said, ‘I’m sorry, Sister. I had no business . . . I’m sorry, that’s all.’
A thought occurred to me. ‘Ethalia, if it comes to war, will the Saints of Tristia fight with us?’
She shook her head. ‘The Saints’ Awe cannot be wielded as a sword, and should we try, I fear for what might happen.’ She stood up straighter. ‘But I will fight, whether the rest of the Orders unite or not.’
‘And you?’ I asked Nehra. ‘What do you have to say?’
‘I have no counsel to offer.’
‘No counsel? You arranged this trial!’
‘I did.’
‘Why? If you don’t have—’
‘The country is about to change, First Cantor, either because we made a decision and fought for it, or because we sat back and let the winds of Fate decide.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘I’m a Bardatti. We hate stories where Chance decides the ending.’
Almost as if they’d received a signal, everyone else withdrew a step, leaving only Kest and Brasti standing there.
‘Anything you two want to add?’ I asked.
Kest looked uncertain. ‘It comes down to a choice between Law and Justice – and they are two very different things, Falcio, despite how hard you’ve tried to unite them. The simple fact is that Filian is King now, and so it’s every citizen’s lawful obligation to defend him, and thus the country.’
‘Even if they’ll die in the attempt? Even for a country not worth defending any more? How is that—?’
‘Justice? It’s not. That’s my point: if you want justice, then go and murder Trin right now. Kill Filian too, and put someone else on the throne – someone you believe will serve the people and not the foul plans of a dead Duchess whose visceral loathing of her own country has brought us here, to the brink of destruction.’
‘Except . . .’ Brasti began.
‘Neither of you are here as witnesses,’ Nehra said.
‘Oh well, forgive me. In that case . . .’ Brasti turned back to me. ‘Anyway, what I was going to say – and I can’t believe I’m saying it, by the way – is that . . . wasn’t Trin ill-treated herself? Wasn’t she tormented, tortured and manipulated, forced into this pattern, this life by that bitch Patriana? And had Jillard even a hint of her existence, he’d have killed her as a child, wouldn’t he? So she has as much right to demand justice as anyone else, and, Saint Agnita-who-vomits-men’s-bones, what might that look like?’
‘Vendetta,’ Valiana said quietly. ‘An endless cycle of revenge in which each death is merely fair payment for a previous one.’
Vendetta. How close had I come to triggering one of my own? Had I succeeded in murdering Trin, how many citizens of Hervor might rightfully have sought vengeance for the Duchess they so admired? This was why Valiana had been so insistent that we bring Trin back for trial rather than simply killing her on sight.
How did you ever become so wise? I wondered, staring at the young woman who had taken my name. Soon she would have to shed that name and instead become Valiana, Duchess of Rijou. She would never be known by the title I had secretly hoped she would one day take: she would never be First Cantor of the Greatcoats.
Of course, neither title would have much meaning if the country ceased to exist. How, by all the Gods and Saints, was I supposed to choose between ending a country or bringing even greater sorrow to its people?
King Paelis, I don’t know if the dead can hear the thoughts of the living, but I really wish you’d picked someone other than me for this job.
I looked at Nehra, then at the others. ‘I’m leaving now,’ I said.
‘Where are you going?’ Kest asked.
‘Back to my cell.’
‘You have to render your verdict,’ Nehra said. ‘You must decide what course w—’
‘Tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Right now I have one more witness to question.’
Nehra’s eyes narrowed as if she didn’t quite believe me. ‘What witness? Tell us who and we will bring them to you.’
‘You won’t have to,’ I replied. ‘The witness will be coming to me.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
The Royal Consort