Kushiel's Mercy

perfectly normal, pleasant conversation. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.
    “Will you have a cordial?” Sidonie asked when the meal was finished and the last plate had been cleared. “There is perry brandy, imported from Terre d’Ange.”
    “I would be delighted,” I said.
    A servant approached and poured. “Astegal is thoughtful.” She swirled her cup, and a sweet, spicy aroma arose. “He saw to it that I enjoyed a few comforts of home. To be honest, I think he has a taste for it himself. I remembered today that there was a keg in the cellar.” She sipped her perry brandy. “Do you like it?”
    I tried it. “It’s very nice.”
    “It was distilled on the estate of Lombelon,” Sidonie said. “A very small holding owned by a minor lord. Maslin de Lombelon. He served as the second in command of my personal guard for a time.”
    “It’s very nice,” I repeated, trying to steer the conversation away from Terre d’Ange. “On Cythera, there is a cordial made from the skins of grapes—”
    Her gaze held mine, intense and compelling. “Do you know, Leander, I have been remiss over these past few days. I addressed you in Hellene as an emissary of Cythera. I never thought to inquire . . .” She switched to the D’Angeline tongue. “Do you speak D’Angeline?”
    “Yes, of course.” I replied in kind, startled. “It was what we spoke at home.”
    Her voice was light and careless, speaking D’Angeline. “Why do you discourage me from speaking of Terre d’Ange? And why is it, do you suppose, that my guards insisted on routing us around the slave-market yesterday? What did they fear I might see?”
    There was a movement in the shadows. I glanced past Sidonie to see the Amazigh on guard lift one hand, his finger wagging in warning. I was not to speak words he did not comprehend.
    “I cannot answer you safely.” I made myself stumble over the words in D’Angeline, then laughed and shook my head. “I’m sorry, your highness,” I said, returning to Hellene. “I know it’s my mother-tongue, but I’ve scarce spoken it since I was a babe. Do you mind overmuch if we continue to converse in Hellene?”
    “Not at all.” Her gaze was perfectly steady. “I was merely trying to be polite.”
    Oh, gods.
    So that was what this was about, that was what she had heard. The guards had been careless, forgetting she was studying Punic. That was why Bodeshmun was worried about our excursion. Yes, I thought; Sidonie de la Courcel would be disturbed at the sight of Aragonian children for sale in Carthage’s flesh markets. And well she should be. Terre d’Ange did not countenance slavery, that was true. And she was in love with a man who’d been abducted as a child by Carthaginian slavers. Likely it would strike a chord within her.
    Like the boy I’d seen.
    Is he biddable?
    I shivered.
    “Are you cold, Leander?” Sidonie asked. “Forgive me, I forget you come from a warmer clime than I do.”
    “No,” I said hoarsely. “Not cold.”
    I wanted to tell her. I wanted to confess everything. Smash the glass. I didn’t dare, not in front of the Amazigh. I had to continue balancing on my high ledge. But everything had shifted. She knew . She knew I wasn’t what I seemed. Damned guards! I stared helplessly at her, willing her to understand. Fearful that she understood too much.
    “I do not mean to bedevil you. Perhaps I should seek answers elsewhere,” she mused aloud. “My lord Bodeshmun is a clever fellow.”
    “Yes,” I said. “And a busy one. I myself would not trouble him.”
    Her quick gaze flicked to mine. “You advise against it?”
    I was sweating. I felt my control lapse. I looked involuntarily in the direction of the Amazigh. Thanks to all the gods that were, he wasn’t a Guildsman. And neither was Sidonie, but she had been trained very, very well in the art of statesmanship. It might as well have been the same. She saw where my glance went.
    “I do,” I said.
    She inclined her head. “Then I’ll not trouble him.” She paused, her gaze searching my face. “My lord Astegal will send for me soon. No doubt all will be clear when he does.”
    I gritted my teeth. “No doubt.”
    So near, yet so far! Gods, it was infuriating. And exhausting, too. By the time I took my leave of her that night, I felt as though I’d run a distance-race. The only solace I could take from the encounter was that she was cautious. Very cautious. And right now, that was a damned good thing.