Kushiel's Mercy

not your fault. None of it.”
    She glanced back at me. “I can get to Bodeshmun.”
    I opened my mouth to say it was too dangerous, then thought better of it. “How?”
    “The same way I dealt with the guards.” Sidonie nodded at the door.
    I did say it then. “It’s too dangerous, love. The Amazigh are going to be on alert after tonight. And Bodeshmun’s twice as suspicious as any desert tribesman.”
    “The guards won’t talk,” she said. “After the incident in the gardens, Bodeshmun put the fear of whatever gods they worship into them. I wouldn’t risk it twice, not with them, but I’d wager anything that they’ll cover for one another rather than admit to Bodeshmun that they fell asleep on duty.”
    “What if he sees that the spell’s broken?” I asked. “Ptolemy Solon told me he’d see through a mere semblance.”
    Sidonie shrugged. “He didn’t notice when you broke the first half. Mayhap it’s not the same. After all, I’m still myself. I was all along. And Bodeshmun doesn’t look at me, Imriel. I’m just a necessary nuisance to him. I was a bored, pestering nuisance, and now I’m a dithering nuisance.”
    I considered it. “And you actually believe he’d drink a toast at the request of a dithering nuisance?”
    “I do,” she said. “If I brought him the great good news that I was carrying Astegal’s heir, and that in the absence of the father, it was D’Angeline custom that his nearest kinsman drink a toast to the health of the babe . . . yes. Particularly if I threatened to get hysterical if he refused.”
    “Let me think on it for a day,” I said. “If you’re sure of it, then I believe you. But I still need to find a way to get you safely out of the palace and onto Deimos’ ship. You’re a bit hard to disguise.”
    “So are you,” Sidonie noted.
    “I’m free to come and go.” I twined my fingers with hers, thinking. “Is it always at least four Amazigh who escort you?”
    “Inside the palace, betimes it’s only one. But outside, yes.” She tilted her head. “Why?” I told her about the Amazigh garb that Ghanim had obtained for me. “It won’t work. Not outside the palace, not after the attack. We’d be stopped.” Sidonie got up and paced the room restlessly, grimacing at the pain of her wounded back. I glanced out the darkened window. Once again, time was dwindling. Soon I’d have to take up my post outside her door. I rose and began cleaning up the mess at the dressing table, gathering the bloodstained rags and ringing them out in the basin. I’d have to take them with me, hidden under my shirt.
    “What do you suppose we should do with this?” I asked, reluctantly picking up the ragged disk of skin and flesh marked with the Sarkal insignia.
    “Burn it,” Sidonie said briefly.
    The brazier was burning low, but the coals flared when I blew on them. I laid the piece of flesh carefully atop them. It seared and sizzled, smelling disconcertingly edible. Sidonie shuddered with disgust, watching it blacken and shrink, her fingers unconsciously rolling and unrolling the sash of her robe.
    It gave me an idea.
    “Sidonie, did you ever hear the tale of the deposed Menekhetan queen who had herself smuggled before a Tiberian general rolled in a carpet?” I asked.
    She stopped and stared at me. “You’re brilliant.”
    “No.” I grinned at her. “But between the two of us, we manage to shine fairly brightly, love. If Kratos can find a discreet way out of the palace, I’m willing to sling you over my shoulder and carry you to the harbor.”
    “When?” she asked simply.
    “Give me a day,” I repeated. “Send for me tomorrow like you did tonight. Don’t risk drugging the guards. A few moments will be long enough to confer.” I glanced at the window. “And I don’t think I ought to stay any longer. The second team of guards will be arriving soon.”
    “Tomorrow, then.” Sidonie took a deep breath. “Will you hold me first?” I gathered her into my arms, wishing I never had to let her go. She clung to me, pressing herself hard against me. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she whispered against my chest. “Imriel, once this is over, I never, ever want us to be parted again.”
    “I know,” I murmured against her hair. “Believe me, love, I know.”
    Leaving her that night was one of the hardest things I’d done. It felt like I was tearing my heart out of my chest. I had mad fantasies of staying and barricading the door, holding the