Kushiel's Mercy

of the roses, one by one until they were gone.
    It was a nice piece of subtle diplomacy. It was also so damned charming, I caught a couple of the Amazigh guards with eyes crinkled in the suggestion of hidden smiles.
    “Well played, my lady,” I said to her.
    She gave me a sidelong glance. “Tell me, Leander Maignard, what game is it you think we’re playing?”
    “One that I hope will while away the hours and alleviate your tedium.” I placed my hand on my chest. “Have no fear, I know how it ends. With you in the arms of your husband and me broken-hearted.”
    I’d spoken in a light, jesting tone—or at least I’d meant to. But she heard somewhat more in it. Whether I succeeded or failed, there was a bitter truth to my words, somewhat I’d not yet begun to consider. She studied me for a moment, then looked away. “It grows late.
    I should return home.”
    “As you wish,” I said.
    We sat in silence in the palanquin. Gods, I wanted to touch her so badly. Cut through the banter, cut through the spell that bound her. And I couldn’t. Not here, not in public, not with guards watching. I needed to get her alone somehow, and I couldn’t think how to do it.
    I was pondering the problem when the palanquin jolted to an abrupt halt. The two Amazigh preceding us were giving orders in Punic to the bearers, pointing and gesturing.
    I sensed the princess stiffen beside me.
    “Is there trouble?” I asked.
    “No.” Her expression was unreadable. “I need to . . . no.”
    It was my turn to be perplexed. “All right.”
    Whatever it was, the Amazigh and the bearers sorted it out. We changed course and took a different route back to the House of Sarkal’s villa. The princess was quiet and withdrawn, and I was fearful I’d made a misstep.
    “May I call on you tomorrow?” I asked before I took my leave. “Or have I begun to contribute to your tedium?”
    “No, of course not.” She gave me a quick, absentminded smile, and I realized that whatever disturbed her, it had naught to do with me. “I’ve enjoyed your company, Leander. I’ll send word.”
    I bowed. “I will await it.”

Thirty-Three

    When I returned from taking exercise with Sunjata on the morrow, there was word awaiting me—but it was from Bodeshmun, not the princess. He wished for me to call on him immediately at the College of Horology.
    Of course, I complied.
    I found him distracted and pacing. As before, he was an abrupt and ungracious host, not offering so much as a cup of water. I bowed deeply, keeping my tone light and unconcerned. Harmless. Oddly, it was a great deal easier to do with Bodeshmun than it was with Princess Sidonie.
    “You wished to see me, my lord?”
    He fetched up before me, glowering. “You took her into the city.”
    “So I did,” I said. “Was that wrong?”
    Bodeshmun’s deep-set eyes flashed. “I would prefer that you did not, not without consulting me. It is imperative that her contacts be . . . managed.”
    I shrugged. “She made an offering to Tanit and threw some flowers to children in the marketplace. There was no harm in it.”
    “There might have been,” he said grimly.
    “My lord, she’s bored .” I spread my hands. “I accompanied her into the city at her own request. If you wish to keep her distracted and under the impression that she’s not a prisoner for the next fortnight, I suggest you provide her with a few more of these managed contacts, because I fear my charming banter and impressive chess skills are wearing thin.”
    My suggestion earned me one of his quelling looks. “I didn’t become Chief Horologist to play master of revels for a bored young princess!”
    I stifled a smile. “Nonetheless.”
    Bodeshmun sighed. “I’ll think on it. Until then, you will agree to no further excursions.”
    “You wish me to refuse her?” I asked.
    His broad mouth twisted sardonically. “I’m confident you’ll think of some cause. I understand you’ve done quite well at playing the blushing admirer while dancing clear of any . . . awkward . . . topics. Whoever taught you to dissemble is to be commended.”
    I inclined my head. “My thanks, my lord.”
    “Go.” He waved one hand. “And remember that if that glib tongue of yours should slip, I’ll have it cut out. Keep my warning in mind.”
    “I always do,” I said with perfect sincerity.
    The encounter with Bodeshmun didn’t trouble me overmuch. At least he was a known danger, and the meeting confirmed he still thought me