Kushiel's Mercy

you.”
    With that, Kratos shouldered my trunk and exited our quarters. He paused in the hallway, glancing to make sure it was clear, then gave me a brief gesture of affirmation. I slipped through the door, clad in my Amazigh garb. Kratos strode toward the front of the palace without looking back.
    I went in the opposite direction.
    There weren’t as many guards as there had been when Astegal was here. Bodeshmun had increased their number after Sidonie was attacked, but they were still spread thin. Mostly, he’d settled for purging the palace staff of any Aragonians, having uncovered no organized conspiracy, but a deep vein of seething resentment when he put them to questioning.
    None of the guards I passed gave me a second glance. If they had, they might have noticed small details amiss. The ash-dark hue of my skin, the color of my eyes. The cut of my sword-belt, the hilts of my blades. But they didn’t. The guards were accustomed to letting Astegal’s Amazigh pass without question. They saw what they expected to see, and I passed them like an indigo ghost and climbed the stairs.
    I’d decided to take care of the guard waiting in Sidonie’s quarters first. He would be the safer kill, and the less I needed to move about the palace, the better. And too, I needed to allow time for the sleeping draught to take effect. Outside her door, I drew my dagger and held it reversed, the blade hidden under the flowing sleeve of my robe.
    I knocked on the door.
    There was a shuffling sound within, and then one of the Amazigh opened it. He asked me somewhat in his own tongue or in Punic; I couldn’t have said. I shook my head and pressed a finger to the fabric muffling my mouth. He shrugged and admitted me, closing the door behind me.
    He did take a second look.
    I saw his eyes widen in the narrow strip of visible face, and didn’t hesitate. I whipped my arm up, sleeve falling to bare the hidden blade. Plunged the dagger hilt-deep in his chest, one hand smothering his muffled mouth.
    Quick.
    I’d always been quick.
    The Amazigh died almost without a sound, his expression of alarm still fixed around the eyes. Somewhere far away, I felt a little sickened at the discovery that I’d make a skilled and effective assassin. I pushed the thought farther away and concentrated on doing what needed to be done, dragging his body into Sidonie’s bedchamber and hiding it on the far side of the bed where it was unlikely to be spotted at a careless glance. If anyone raised an alarm, every moment could be precious.
    Once that was done, I yanked the dagger from his chest. His heart had long since stopped, and the wound didn’t even bleed much. I cleaned my blade on his robes and gave it a quick whetting.
    By now, the sleeping draught should have worked.
    If it had worked.
    I took a moment to gather myself, breathing slowly. The second guard, the one posted outside Bodeshmun’s door, would be harder. I let myself into the corridor, listening. It was late and the palace was quiet. Downstairs, I could hear a few murmurs, but it seemed quiet upstairs. I soft-footed my way to Bodeshmun’s quarters, holding the dagger low and hidden at my side.
    I didn’t give the second Amazigh guard time to react. I simply walked right up to him and pressed him against the door, shoving the dagger under his ribs, angling upward for his heart, clamping my left hand over his veiled mouth. He struggled briefly. I shoved the dagger harder, until I felt him shudder and go limp. With my left hand, I felt for the handle of the door and tried it.
    Locked.
    I cursed silently, then listened intently for a moment. There were no sounds beyond the door. I eased my dagger from the guard’s body, struggling to keep him braced upright.
    Worked the dagger in between the door and the frame, prying hard until I felt the latch give way with a brittle groan.
    That done, I froze. If Bodeshmun wasn’t unconscious, he would have heard the sound, and like as not, the scuffle, too. He might well be waiting on the far side of the door for me, smiling into his beard, prepared to blow a handful of death into my lungs.
    For a mercy, the door opened inward. Still holding the guard upright, I pushed the door open with one foot and heaved the guard’s body inside, jumping quickly backward.
    The guard’s body fell heavily to the floor.
    No Bodeshmun.
    I glanced quickly around to confirm no one had come, then stepped inside, closing the door behind me. The narrow antechamber was empty