Kushiel's Mercy

passed before. This time it was different. Somewhat about him, the way he peered furtively at us as we approached. The way his hands slid and twisted on the pruning shears he held. The way he collected himself and set his shoulders. It wasn’t until we’d actually passed him that it all came together in my mind. I glanced over my shoulder.
    Between two of the Amazigh, there was the gardener behind us. He held the blades of his pruning shears by the tip, poised for the throw. His arm shot forward. Metal flashed.
    “Elua, no!”
    I flung myself on Sidonie without thinking, my weight bringing both of us crashing to the earth. Somewhat sharp stung my scalp as we fell. I landed hard atop her, driving the breath from her lungs. Her startled eyes stared into mine. Wet warmth trickled though my hair. Behind us, there were shouts of alarm and fury.
    Oh, gods.
    The feeling of her body beneath mine.
    Neither of us moved.
    And then strong hands yanked me off her, pulled me upright. The Amazigh surrounded us, asking questions in a garbled panic. Behind them, the gardener’s body was slumped on the ground. His head was a few feet away.
    “I’m fine.” Sidonie’s voice shook. “That man— why ?”
    They exchanged glances.
    “It doesn’t matter,” I said. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear or the sudden shock of desire. “You’re safe, love. That’s all that matters.”
    She searched my face. “You’re hurt.”
    I touched the back of my head. My fingers came away bloody, but not terribly so. “It’s just a nick. Scalp wounds bleed a lot.”
    “He tried . . .” Sidonie swallowed. “Oh, gods.”
    “I know.” I rounded on the Amazigh. “Name of Elua! Why did you kill him? You should have taken him alive to be questioned!”
    One of them shrugged. “Desert justice.”
    “Desert idiocy, more like!” I wrestled my temper under control. “No mind. Let’s just get the princess safely back to the palace. Now .”
    The Amazigh formed a tight square around us. Sidonie clung to my arm, holding it pressed hard against her. I could feel her trembling. This time, I didn’t think it was feigned, not in the least. Oh, gods, that had been a near thing! Fury and terror and tenderness broke over me in waves.
    I loved her.
    I loved her so much.
    And I’d nearly lost her.
    Pandemonium broke loose the minute we entered the palace. One of the guards was dispatched at a run to fetch Bodeshmun, who came with alacrity, his black robes swirling around him.
    “Are you harmed, your highness?” he asked Sidonie grimly.
    “No.” Her nails bit into my forearm. “Leander saved me. He’s hurt.”
    “Escort her highness to her quarters,” Bodeshmun said to the Amazigh. “Send for the physician. After he’s examined her, have him report to me.” To me, he said, “Come.”
    I accompanied him to his quarters. There, Bodeshmun bade me sit and tell him all that had transpired. He listened intently, nodding into his black beard.
    “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.