Kushiel's Mercy

rise and spiral, felt her breathe my breath. I felt the core of her. I felt myself inside her. Fullness. Opening, opening, convulsing. Over and over.
    So good.
    I cried aloud at the end. Sidonie’s eyes widened. What I felt, she felt. The drive, the need, the acute, prolonged spasm of release. Still, she had the presence of mind to clamp one hand over my mouth.
    I collapsed onto my back.
    “Imriel.” Still straddling me, Sidonie leaned on my chest. Her black eyes gazed intently into mine. “How do we save Terre d’Ange?”
    I started laughing.
    “I’m not jesting,” she said.
    “No, I know.” I sank my hands into her hair. “It’s just . . . I was afraid. Afraid of how you’d react once you knew. Afraid of the damage done.” I stroked her hair, winding it around my fingers. “Heart of my heart, I didn’t expect you to emerge from this ready to kill Astegal, make love to me, and rescue the realm.”
    Sidonie smiled ruefully. “I may well fall to pieces later. If I do, I pray you’ll be there to gather them. But for now—”
    “Talk fast?” I suggested.
    She nodded. “Please.”

Fourty-Seven

    I sat on the bed cutting Sidonie’s shift into a long strip of bandage and told her everything I knew that had passed since the night of Carthage’s spell, including my month of madness. She listened in horrified wonder, but she didn’t comment until I mentioned seeking Barquiel L’Envers’ aid.
    “And he gave it?” she asked in amazement.
    “Seems he loves Terre d’Ange more than he hates me.” I told her the rest, tearing the linen carefully. Cythera, my mother. Ptolemy Solon. The details of the spell—the ghafrid-gebla and Bodeshmun’s talisman.
    “Your mother and my uncle,” she mused. “Elua have mercy, I never thought I’d have cause to be grateful to either of them, let alone both at once. You’ve no idea what’s happening in Terre d’Ange?”
    “No.” I shook my head. “There’s been no word for weeks. I don’t know if L’Envers found the gem that holds the ghafrid . I don’t know if he got the rest of the country to rally behind Alais. I’ve no idea. Lift your arms.”
    Sidonie obeyed. I wound the long strip around her body, covering the seeping gouge between her shoulders. I had to crisscross the bandage between her breasts, wrapping it around her twice before I tied it.
    “It’s lucky you’re handy with knots,” she observed. I glanced up to see a faint spark of the old humor in her eyes.
    “Indeed.” I finished and went to rummage in her clothes-press for another shift. “It’s going to be a problem hiding that from your attendants, love. And it really ought to be dressed by a proper chirurgeon.”
    “I know.” She frowned in thought. “There’s nothing to be done for the latter, but I can hold my attendants off for a time. They’re fairly well convinced I’m deeply distraught.
    They’ll leave me to bathe and dress myself in peace if I insist on it.”
    “Girom thinks you might be with child,” I said softly, holding out the garment. “Lift your arms again.”
    She didn’t protest, letting me help her on with the shift. “What if I am?”
    I sat back on the bed and looked into her eyes. “I had to answer that question for someone else, once. Lucius Tadius, you remember? Sidonie, I’m the child of two traitors, and I’m the man I am because Phèdre and Joscelin loved me despite it. Any child of your blood, I will love.” I paused. “Are you?”
    “No.” Sidonie smiled wryly. “I married Astegal in Carthage. The rites were all Carthaginian. There was no invocation beseeching Eisheth for fertility.” Her expression turned quizzical. “And I never said a word about it. I must have known, somewhere deep inside me, that I didn’t love him.”
    I laughed humorlessly. “So Astegal’s efforts to get an heir were all in vain?”
    “Mm-hmm.” She nodded with bitter satisfaction. “Though considerable.”
    I took her hands in mine. “Did he harm you? Because I swear in Kushiel’s name, if he did, it means the difference between Astegal dying and Astegal dying slowly.”
    “No.” Sidonie gave her head a little shake, her gaze sliding away from mine. “No, he wasn’t cruel and he didn’t force me. He didn’t have to. I was willing.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “That’s what sickens me the most.”
    “You weren’t willing.” I squeezed her hands. “Sidonie, they took your will away and turned you against yourself. It’s