Kushiel's Mercy

and hauled her all the way to the harbor, I was like to smother her in the process. Even if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure how Captain Deimos would react to the fact that I’d abducted the Dauphine of Terre d’Ange, drugged insensible.
    And if she didn’t awaken by dawn . . .
    Well, we had a few hours’ grace. I’d sooner have left the palace immediately, but no one was likely to notice aught amiss until the second shift of Sidonie’s guards came to relieve their fellows.
    I resolved to wait as long as I dared. I stowed Bodeshmun’s talisman safely in my purse. I propped a chair under the door with the broken latch, lest anyone attempt to enter. I dragged the bodies of Bodeshmun and the guard into the far bedchamber. I cleaned and whetted my dagger a second time.
    I waited.
    Although it didn’t seem to trouble her in the least, Sidonie’s position in the chair looked uncomfortable. I eased her down to the carpeted floor, then cleared the carpet in preparation. I sat cross-legged, settling her head on my lap.
    She looked younger sleeping, scarce older than the girl I’d fallen in love with. We’d known one another since we were children. I stroked the soft curve of her cheek, remembering. She’d been a reserved child, unnervingly composed from an early age, regarding me with cool distrust. How not? She’d grown up with the weight of the kingdom hovering over her, aware of the schisms that threatened to divide it.
    And I . . . I’d been damaged and brooding, filled with fierce passions and loyalties. How not? By the time I was eleven years old, I’d seen and endured things no one should ever suffer.
    Neither of us could possibly have understood the other.
    It seemed so very long ago.
    Ysandre used to force us to spend time together, the scions of House Courcel, hoping we would further our acquaintance. It made me smile now to think on it. Alais and I used to play cards together under the watchful eye of the Queen’s Guard, while Sidonie ignored us and read a book.
    I wished I could travel backward through time to address those childhood selves. To tell Sidonie that one day she would defy her mother and half the nation for the sake of this proud, wounded boy whom she regarded with such misgivings, that he would grow into a man she trusted beyond all reason. To tell my young self that this cool, haughty girl who galled him so would one day be the most precious thing in the world to him, that she would become a woman for whom he would willingly lay down his life.
    I wished Sidonie would awaken.
    An hour passed, then another. For a mercy, no one came to call on Bodeshmun. But Sidonie showed no signs of waking, either. I shook her, coaxed her, whispered and pleaded to no avail. Once, she sighed in her sleep and my heart leapt, but she only seemed to settle deeper into slumber.
    At last I gave up. If I delayed any longer, I wouldn’t reach the harbor in time. The palace would awaken and the alarm would be raised. I shifted Sidonie to the edge of the carpet.
    “Sun Princess.” I knelt beside her and kissed her sleeping lips. “We have to try this now.
    Don’t you dare die on me, or I swear to Blessed Elua, I’ll haunt you through a thousand lifetimes.”
    There was no answer. I raised her arms and crossed them in front of her face, hoping and praying that it would create a pocket of air that would keep her from smothering.
    Carefully, carefully, I rolled the most precious thing in the world to me into a carpet.
    That done, I rewound the Amazigh scarf around my head and face. I moved the chair blocking Bodeshmun’s door and checked the corridor.
    Empty.
    Good.
    I stooped and hoisted the rolled carpet with an effort, slinging it over my shoulder. It was heavy, heavier than I’d reckoned. Sidonie sleeping was dead weight, and the carpet itself was dense and tightly woven.
    It didn’t matter. I could do it.
    I carried her into the corridor, closing the door behind me, and made swiftly for the servants’ stair. It was narrow and winding, and the ends of the rolled carpet scraped harshly against the stone walls. I had to use both hands to keep my burden balanced, navigating the narrow steps awkwardly. By the time I reached the bottom, the guard posted on the lower floor was already looking curiously toward the stairwell. Keeping my head averted, I laid down the carpet and beckoned to him, moving as though to unroll the carpet and reveal somewhat of interest.
    “What in the name of Ba’al—” he began,