Kushiel's Mercy (46 page)

“Idiots,” he said when I told him the Amazigh had killed the gardener. “They’re fierce and loyal enough, but they’ve no head for intrigue.” He sighed. “I’ll have every Aragonian attendant on the palace rounded up for questioning.”

“Good,” I said, angry enough to mean it. “Why do they blame
her
? Surely they must know—”

“No,” Bodeshmun interrupted me. “No, they don’t, young Maignard. They may suspect something amiss, but they do not
know
it. Not for a surety. And I’d prefer to keep it thusly. Folk are a good deal easier to control when their anger is scattered and misplaced.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

“You did well out there.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “How did you know? How did you notice what trained warriors failed to observe?”

“Warriors are trained to fight,” I said. “I’m trained to observe.”

“Ah, yes.” Bodeshmun gave a thin smile. “The Guild’s infamous arts of covertcy. Well, it was well done.”

I inclined my head. “My thanks, my lord.”

The Carthaginian physician arrived in short order. He reported that Sidonie was unharmed, but distraught in the extreme, demanding that Astegal and the army be returned to protect her.

Bodeshmun snorted. “Give her a sleeping draught.”

“I tried,” the physician said. “She refused.”

The Chief Horologist waved a dismissive hand. “See to this young man’s head and try again. Tell her if she’s breeding, she needs to rest for the child’s sake. There is a good chance of it, is there not?”

The physician bowed. “’Tis too early to tell, my lord. But her highness’ weariness and distress augur well for it.”

I swallowed, tasting bile.

I took my leave of Bodeshmun and went with the physician, whose name was Girom, to his quarters. There, he undid my braids and cleaned the wound, swabbing it with something that stung like hell, then closed it with two stitches using a needle and waxed silk thread, which also stung like hell.

Once it was done, Girom dismissed me. I returned to my quarters and washed the drying blood out of my hair in the basin, telling Kratos and a wide-eyed Sunjata what had transpired.

“Name of Elua!” I said in disgust. “Sidonie’s as much a victim in this as any bath-house attendant. What are they thinking?”

Sunjata shrugged. “They’re thinking they saw her kiss General Astegal farewell outside the gates of the city before he rode off to conquer the rest of Aragonia. What else?”

I yanked a comb through my damp hair. “We need to speak to Justina. If this is part of a larger conspiracy, she may be able to find out. She can help spread the word covertly that Sidonie’s no more to be blamed than—”

There was a knock at the outer door that made all three of us startle and fall silent. Kratos went to answer it.

“My lord Maignard.” It was Girom, the physician. He looked harried. “Forgive me, but I require your assistance. Her highness has consented to take a sleeping draught if you will sit at her side until she sleeps.” He cleared his throat. “It seems she feels you are the only one to protect her in General Astegal’s absence. My lord Bodeshmun has consented.”

Oh, clever girl.

I rose. “Of course. I’ll come immediately.”

Fourty-Four

O
ut!”

An earthenware cup shattered against the wall of the bedchamber. One of the Amazigh dodged flying shards. Girom the physician raised his hands pleadingly. “My lady—”

“All of you,
out
!” Sidonie said in a perfect fury, pacing. She was wrapped in a dressing-robe, clutching it to her. Her hair was loose and unbound, falling over her shoulders. Her face was stark white, save for two spots of hectic color on her cheekbones. “Everyone but Leander! You’re worthless, all of you!”

“Go.” Girom gestured to the Amazigh.

Sidonie pointed at the physician. “You too.”

“Yes, yes,” he said in a soothing voice. “As I promised, once you drink the sleeping draught.”

Her breast rose and fell with sharp breaths. “You’ll go, then? You’ll go if I do?”

“As I promised,” Girom repeated.

“I want him to stay.” Sidonie pointed at me. “I want Leander to stay until I fall asleep. And then I want him to keep watch outside my door. He saved my life, and you won’t bring me Astegal.”

The physician sighed. “Drink your draught, your highness.”

Sidonie fixed her gaze on me. “You won’t leave?”

“I swear it,” I said to her. “I’ll stay at your side until you sleep, and then I’ll guard your door until you wake. No one will pass.”

“And you’ll go if I do?” she asked Girom.

“Yes,” he said wearily. “Please, your highness. It’s for your own good.”

“All right.” Sidonie picked up another cup from her night-stand, this one brimming with dark liquid. Her hands shook and the liquid trembled. She eyed Girom with suspicion. “You promise?”

“Yes, your highness!” he said in frustration. “I
promise
.”

She drank. “There. Now go.”

Girom heaved another sigh, this one filled with relief. I didn’t envy him. “Thank you, my lady,” he said to her. “Now lie down and rest. Leander will stay by your side. It’s a potent draught; it will take effect swiftly.”

She sat obediently on her bed. “All right. Go away now.”

He backed through the door, closing it behind him.

We were alone.

Sidonie buried her face in her hands and shuddered. I crossed the room swiftly, kneeling before her. “Are you all right?” I whispered.

“No.” She dropped her hands. “Not really.” Her tone was unwontedly dry. “I’m scared half out of my wits, and that was the single most mortifying performance of my life.” She touched the back of my head with infinite gentleness. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “How long until the sleeping draught takes effect?”

Her fingers slid through my hair, trailed along my cheek. “The one I poured into the vase hidden behind the chamberpot under my bed and replaced with unwatered wine? A few more minutes at least if I’d actually drunk it. Talk fast.”

My entire body shivered beneath her touch. “I’ll try. Only—”

“I know,” Sidonie whispered, cupping my face with both hands now. There were tears in her black eyes. “I know.”

The lover showers kisses on the face of the beloved . . .

It was gentle, it was frantic, it was terrified, all at once. I knelt before her, my face upturned. She kissed my eyelids, my temples, my cheeks, the corners of my mouth. Sweet, so sweet! I hadn’t imagined so much sweetness existed in the world. She kissed my mouth.

My lips parted beneath hers, the tip of her tongue touched mine.

Imriel
.

Ohgodsohgodsohgods! Knowledge and memory burst like a ripe seed-pod inside my skull. It filled me to overflowing.

Imriel.

I was Imriel.

I gasped and tore myself away from her, huddling and clasping my own arms, rocking on my knees and shuddering.

I was Imriel.

Sidonie drew back from me in alarm, her eyes widening.
“What?”

It flooded me; it flooded every part of me. Memories, crashing and churning. I remembered everything. I knew myself. I knew what had happened. Everything. All the plans, all the risk, all the uncertainty. All the fear and horror. My madness. My quest. Ptolemy Solon and his needle, stitching and stitching. Leander’s voice, stitching a new tale, binding his memories to my flesh. I drew a breath, ragged and raw. “Oh, Sidonie!” I murmured. “It’s me. I’m
me
. Imriel.”

She shrank back against the headboard of her bed. “Leander?”

She didn’t know me.

Of course she didn’t know me.

“I love you,” I said in anguish. “Oh, Name of Elua, Sidonie! I’ve loved you since you were sixteen years old. I’m what you’re missing. I’m what you’ve forgotten. You and I.”

“No!” She hissed the word at me, eyes showing the whites all around in sheer terror. “Leander,
please
! Don’t do this to me. I can’t do this!”

I reached for her. “Sidonie . . .”

She shrank back farther. “Go away! Please, go away!”

I sat back on my heels. “Will you just please listen?”

“No.” Sidonie shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as though to block out the world. A pulse in the hollow of her throat beat frantically. “No, no, no, no. I thought you were . . . I don’t know, but you’re not. Just please, go away.”

Ah, Elua.

I knew everything.

“Sidonie,”
I said, desperate to reach her. “Alais’ dog was killed by a bear!”

For a long moment, she didn’t speak or react. I knelt silently, waiting, acutely aware of time dwindling. And then slowly, slowly, Sidonie’s eyes opened. She watched me without speaking, breathing hard through parted lips.

“It happened in Alba,” I said. “But you were right; there was a boar, too. Years earlier, at a hunting party. We stumbled over a boar. Your horse bolted. Alais’ dog, Celeste, was gored, but she survived. I stitched her wound in the woods using Amarante’s embroidery kit.”

“I remember . . . parts,” she murmured.

Oh, gods, it nearly broke my heart to look at her. “Something Bodeshmun did pulled a whole thread out of your memory,” I said gently. “And everything that’s left is partly unravelled. Is that what it feels like?” She nodded slowly. “Sidonie, I can undo it. If you can find a way for us to be alone together again, for a little while longer, I can explain everything.”

Her dark eyes dwelled on my face. “I don’t know.”

I didn’t dare push her. Not now. I was barely holding myself together. “Think on it,” I whispered. “Try to sleep. I don’t dare stay any longer. But I’ll be on the other side of the door, guarding your dreams. And I promise you, Princess, no one will ever harm you while there’s breath in my body.”

I rose slowly and carefully. Sidonie looked so damnably vulnerable. My doing, my fault. It tore me up inside like I’d swallowed broken glass. Still, it had to be done. I left the room quietly, closing the door behind me.

“She sleeps?” Girom inquired.

“Yes.” I leaned against the door, my knees trembling. My voice sounded strange to my ears. I’d entered that room as Leander Maignard, and left it as Imriel de la Courcel. “Yes, she was agitated for a time, but the draught took effect.”

“Good.” The physician nodded. “I’ll return in the morning to examine her.” He hesitated. “Are you actually planning to stay? You needn’t. It’s a powerful draught; she won’t wake for hours.”

“Yes.” I let my knees give way and slid down the door, hoping I looked more like a man settling in for a long vigil than a man collapsing. “I promised.” I tried to find Leander Maignard’s insouciant tone somewhere inside me. “One should always keep a promise to a lady, messire.”

Girom shrugged. “As you like. Send one of the guards to fetch me if there’s any difficulty before I arrive.”

With that, he took his leave. The Amazigh regarded me with impassive disinterest. There were two of them on guard. They exchanged a few words in their native tongue. One went to stir the fire in the hearth, then took up a post where he could keep an eye on both me and the outer door. The other stretched his length on a couch, clearly prepared to nap.

I couldn’t have cared less.

Imriel.

I was Imriel.

The knowledge pounded through me, over and over. I remembered everything. My madness, the flight to Cythera. My mother. Ptolemy Solon’s spell. I remembered everything I’d done as Leander, vividly. I even remembered Leander’s own memories, although they’d grown faint and ghostly, like somewhat read in a tale. But I remembered what
I’d
felt as Leander.

And it was nothing to what I felt now.

I was going to have to act fast. Ptolemy Solon hadn’t thought a mere semblance would fool Bodeshmun, and that was all I had now. I leaned the back of my head against the door, staring into the dim salon. The gouge in my skull throbbed. I had to get Sidonie out of here.

And I had to get Bodeshmun’s talisman.

Ah, gods! What was happening at home? There hadn’t been word of Terre d’Ange since Carthage. The thought made me shiver. Leander Maignard hadn’t cared overmuch.

I did.

It was a long night. I stayed awake, thinking. At some point, the Amazigh warrior on guard yawned and woke the other. They traded roles. Some hours later, another pair came to relieve them altogether. I watched the process through slitted eyes, thinking about the Amazigh garb hidden in my trunks.

A little after dawn, a Carthaginian chambermaid came with a tray of tea and fruit. She made to pass me and enter the bedchamber. I shook my head at her.

“No one passes,” I said. “I promised.”

The door opened behind me. “It’s all right,” Sidonie said quietly. “Elissa may enter.”

I got stiffly to my feet. “Did you sleep well, your highness?”

“Yes.” There were violet shadows under her eyes, but her gaze was clear and calm. Sidonie de la Courcel had come to a decision. “Thank you, Messire Maignard. Your presence helped. Would it be too much to ask you to return tonight?”

“No, my lady,” I said, bowing. “Not at all.”

Fourty-Five

I
made my way wearily to my own chambers, praying I didn’t encounter Bodeshmun on the way. For a mercy, I didn’t. I was going to have to avoid him, at least up until the minute I killed him.

And I was still working on that plan.

Sunjata was there, muttering over his latest manifest. The gem trade had fallen off since Astegal had pulled the army out of New Carthage. I stopped dead, staring at him and remembering.

“You knew,” I said.

His head jerked up and he stared at me, recognition slowly dawning. “You . . . ?”

“Imriel,” I said. “Yes. I know myself.”

“Ah,” Sunjata said. “Yes. It was in her ladyship’s letter.”

I regarded him with a convoluted mixture of Leander’s fondness and my own bitter memories of his voice whispering in my ear, the stab of a long needle, his hand tugging a ring from my finger. “Why did you have me strip?”

He looked away. “I had to know. To see.”

I raised my brows. “You could have refused me.”

“Leander would have been hurt,” Sunjata murmured. “It would have been hard to explain. And . . . you nearly
were
him, at least at first. Even after I saw you.” His throat worked. “This is a lonely business, your highness.”