Kushiel's Mercy

courtyard. So . . .”
    She kissed me again, her tongue darting between my lips. “I want to feel like myself, Imriel. Stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I won’t break.”
    I traced a line down her throat into the cleft between her breasts. “No?”
    Sidonie shook her head, her eyes grave. “No.”
    “All right.” On a whim, I reached for the cup of water on the bedside table. I poured it slowly over the thin linen of her shift, soaking it until it became transparent. “You know you’re driving me mad wearing this thing.”
    She smiled. “Oh, good.”
    The sheer fabric was plastered to her breasts, pink nipples jutting against it. I slid my hands down to her buttocks, pulling her hard against me, then lowered my mouth, sucking and biting at her breasts through the linen. Sidonie sank her hands deep into my hair, sighing with pleasure.
    “More,” she whispered. “Please.”
    “Mmm.” I reached up and tore the neckline of her shift open, the thin, soaked fabric giving way easily. Sidonie made a small, startled sound of delight, then a deeper one as my mouth returned to her breasts, gliding over her silken, wet flesh. She pressed herself harder against me, hips moving involuntarily. When I felt her begin to shudder all over, I lifted my head and captured her mouth, forcing her to moan her pleasure into mine. I felt the sweet vibration of it all the way to my core.
    It almost drowned out the knock at the outer door and the sound of Lady Nicola’s voice.
    It seemed to be true that certain events in our lives were fated to be relived. We looked at one another.
    “You’ll have to answer that,” Sidonie said breathlessly.
    I grimaced. “Let me fetch you a clean shift.”
    Her eyes danced. “There isn’t one.”
    “Where’s your gown?” I asked. “You can wear it with the stays undone.”
    “Taken to be laundered,” she said. “No one’s returned it. I thought it was a ploy to keep me from leaving my quarters.”
    “Tell me you’re jesting,” I pleaded. Sidonie just laughed. With a groan of dismay, I shifted her from my lap and went into the antechamber, closing the door of her bedchamber behind me.
    “Good morning, Imriel,” Nicola greeted me, looking pleased. “Rachel tells me that Sidonie’s much improved.”
    “Yes,” I said wryly. “Much, much improved. My lady, we have a . . . garment crisis.”
    Nicola raised her brows. “Oh?”
    “We escaped the ship with the clothes on our backs,” I explained. “Sidonie’s gown was taken to be laundered and hasn’t been returned.”
    “I asked my seamstress to take her measurements from it and alter a gown or two to fit her,” Nicola said mildly. “I had some of Serafin’s clothing that would suit for you, but nothing for Sidonie. I’ll send someone to investigate. But if she didn’t mind receiving me yesterday clad in—”
    “It’s torn.” I flushed. “Rather badly.”
    “Ah.” Her lovely face lit with mirth. “Much, much improved, I take it.”
    “Oh yes,” I murmured.
    Nicola laughed. “Well, ’tis good to know that love and laughter flourish even in the midst of war. I suspect we need it now more than ever, and I thank you for your unwitting gift of the latter. I can return later.”
    “No.”
    The bedchamber door opened to reveal Sidonie artfully draped in a bedsheet. It looked almost like a Hellene peplos.
    “How did you learn to . . . ?” I gestured vaguely.
    She looked at me with amusement. “Play-acting with Alais when we were children. Lady Nicola, if you will forgive our state of considerable disarray, I would very much like to hear your news.”
    Nicola L’Envers y Aragon was a diplomat’s wife—and like as not, twice the diplomat her husband was. She inclined her head. “Of course.”
    So I ushered her inside, where she told us that Serafin and Ramiro had both come around to thinking it was worth risking a sortie and attempting to send a delegation to treat with the Euskerri.
    “They’re willing to grant sovereignty to Euskerria?” Sidonie asked.
    “If the Euskerri are willing to wage war on Carthage, yes,” Nicola said. “Ramiro thinks several of the southern counties might renege on their treaties with Astegal and rise up against him if we’re able to do this. And that if we don’t make the effort, Aragonia will be devoured piecemeal, Euskerria included. After long thought, Serafin has agreed.”
    “What about General Liberio?” I asked.
    Nicola spread her hands. “They’ll