Kushiel's Mercy

Blue dusk was settling over Carthage, stars emerging as pinpricks in the veil of night. I closed my eyes. Behind my closed lids, I saw her face. Perplexed. A shower of petals falling between us.
    Black eyes.
    Why did it make my heart ache?
    “Sidonie,” I whispered for a third time, my head lolling. Petals fell. Her dark gaze met mine and held it, hard and intense. I searched for a word and found it. “Always.”

Twenty-Nine

    Bodeshmun’s response was swift.
    He’d had my letter requesting an audience with the princess. Sidonie. He’d doubtless had spies watching me, Sunjata ostensibly among them. I was certain he’d received a full report from Gemelquart. Whether or not Bodeshmun was a Guildsman, I didn’t know.
    Even Sunjata was unsure. It didn’t matter. Like Ptolemy Solon, Bodeshmun was filled with knowledge beyond the Guild’s scope. The Chief Horologist made his own rules, and it seemed my appearance among Sidonie’s admirers had goaded him into action. He summoned me to a private audience the following afternoon.
    Of course, I responded promptly. I brought with me the gift of a book of arcane lore I’d found in the tribute manifest, guessing it was intended for the magus.
    “So.” Bodeshmun accepted the book with no visible reaction. He regarded me with deep-set eyes. “You seek audience with my kinsman’s wife on behalf of the Governor of Cythera.”
    I bowed to him, exacting and correct. “Yes, my lord.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
    I spread my hands, helpless. Harmless. “May I speak freely?”
    “Please do,” Bodeshmun said curtly.
    “Much of the world wonders what strange manner of madness has befallen Terre d’Ange,” I said. “They speculate and murmur, wondering, wondering. Surely you must know there is one man in the world who does not.” I gave him another deep bow, this time with a flourish. “My lord Bodeshmun, his eminence Ptolemy Solon wishes to confess himself to be truly and profoundly amazed. You are the architect of a spell the scope and impact of which he could never have envisioned.”
    A smug, satisfied smile touched Bodeshmun’s lips. “Oh, he’d dream it, all right. It’s just he’d never dare it.”
    “That may be so,” I said diplomatically. “Nonetheless, his lordship is sincerely impressed.
    And, I daresay, a bit envious. He is eager for a firsthand report of the workings of your charms.”
    “Oh?” His heavy brows rose. “Were Solon that eager, he’d have sent you to Terre d’Ange. Plenty to see there. But the Ape of Cythera is in no hurry to curry favor from the half-mad Queen, is he? No, he’s sent you sniffing around Carthage for reassurances.”
    “Well, no. There is that. And there is another matter.” I lowered my voice. “He knows about the demon-stone, my lord. The . . .” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, I can’t remember the word. Any mind, ’tis the other he can’t fathom. How you’ve managed to bind the princess all the way across the sea.” I smiled disarmingly. “D’Angelines are notoriously difficult to sway in matters of the heart, as my lord Solon knows all too well.”
    It was a calculated gamble. My grasp of the workings of magic was tenuous. Still, if I understood correctly, much of the spell that bound Sidonie hinged on Prince Imriel’s stolen ring. There were plenty of folk who could have described the preparations for the spell that bound the City of Elua. Aside from Sunjata, who was ostensibly doing the bidding of his Carthaginian masters, no one but the prince himself knew about the ring. I prayed like hell that knowledge of the prince’s arrival on Cythera hadn’t gotten out. Of course if it had, like as not all of this was in vain, so I reckoned it worth a try.
    It hadn’t.
    Bodeshmun smiled again, a broad gloat that sat ill on his grave, bearded face. “Does Ptolemy Solon seek a means to keep his mistress in line? He’ll have to look elsewhere.
    I’ll not divulge my secrets.”
    “Oh, of course not.” I returned his smile. “But if I might meet with the princess . . .”
    His smiled vanished and Bodeshmun gave me a look meant to quell. I looked suitably quelled. It wasn’t hard. He was an imposing fellow.
    “Sidonie,” he mused. My heart gave an unexpected thump at her name. I ignored it and concentrated on looking quelled. Bodeshmun rose and paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes. That was a clever stunt you pulled last night.”
    “I merely hoped to hasten her