Kushiel's Mercy

Astegal didn’t take that from you,” I murmured into the crook of her neck.
    “Astegal took nothing from us!” Sidonie whispered fiercely in my ear. “You promised me that.”
    “And I meant it.” I propped myself on one arm. “Nothing he did could ever alter my love for you. But—”
    “You wondered if having my innermost will perverted would curb my penchant for violent pleasure.” Her mouth twisted wryly as I nodded. “So did I, actually. But it seems I’m still reclaiming bits and pieces of myself.”
    “I’m glad,” I said honestly.
    “You were so gentle and beautiful when that was what I needed.” Sidonie wound a lock of my hair around her fingers. “Thank you.”
    “Always,” I said.
    She gave me one of her quick smiles. “Or not, as it happens.”
    I laughed and planted a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “You’re going to have bruises.”
    “Mmm.” Sidonie touched my cheek, her expression turning serious. “That’s a part of me Astegal never touched, Imriel. I don’t . . .” She hesitated. “I’d like to think that somewhere deep inside, I knew enough to withhold my trust from him, to keep the most vulnerable part of me safe. But in truth, I don’t know.” She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “It may simply be that he never knew me well enough to suspect it was there.
    Although in a way, I don’t suppose he could have when there was so much we could never discuss.”
    It was the first time she’d spoken of what had passed between her and Astegal. “No?” I asked quietly.
    “No. The first night . . .” Sidonie pulled away from me to sit upright, drawing her knees up and wrapping the sheet around them. “On the ship. I remember I asked him if he’d ever been in love before. He laughed and told some tale of a married woman he’d adored when he was little more than a youth. Then he told me that he wasn’t going to ask the same question. That as far as he was concerned, whatever lay in my past, it was all washed clean away the moment he laid eyes on me. That we were born anew for one another, and only the future mattered.”
    “Very romantic,” I observed.
    She shot a glance at me to see if I was mocking, but I wasn’t. “I thought so at the time.
    But it was just a means to keep me from discussing the past, lest I realize how much my memory was lacking.”
    “So what did you talk about?” I asked.
    “The future.” She gave another wry smile. “The glorious, peaceful, and just alliance of nations we would build. He laid out a bold, sweeping vision of the reforms he imagined for Carthage’s role in this empire, such as eliminating the slave-trade. Nothing that could be accomplished immediately, mind you, but things that would come in time if we were patient and diligent.”
    “He played to the best in you,” I said softly.
    “Mayhap.” Sidonie raked a hand through her disheveled hair. “Or mayhap to a strain of that L’Envers’ ambition I didn’t know I harbored. Noble aspirations are no excuse for conquest. I don’t know. It shames me to remember it.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “I believed him, though,” she said. “In him, in his vision. And there’s a part of me that wonders . . . in the beginning, when it was all new and fresh, it truly seemed Astegal believed it, too.”
    “When did it change?” I asked.
    “I suppose it started in Carthage.” She hugged her knees. “On the ship, he’d led me to believe I’d be involved in matters of import once we were there. That I’d have a voice, responsibilities as I’d had in Terre d’Ange. But once we arrived, he kept telling me that the Council wasn’t ready, that it wasn’t Carthage’s way. That I had to be patient, and everything would change after Aragonia fell. So I was. Dumb, patient, and obedient.”
    “Not to hear Bodeshmun tell it,” I said.
    “It got worse after Astegal left,” Sidonie said. “That was when I became restless and bored. But I didn’t begin to doubt until you entered my life.” She smiled wistfully. “Or at least Leander Maignard did, reeking of pomade, beating me at chess and stirring strange thoughts and yearnings in me.”
    “Not to mention gazing at you like a lovelorn pup,” I added.
    “Yes.” She glanced at me, tears in her eyes. “That too. And I’m so grateful that you came for me, but . . . oh, gods! I wish none of it had ever happened. I wish I could forget it.
    And I can’t.”
    I slid behind Sidonie and embraced her, holding her