Kushiel's Mercy

hopes of finding out what happened. Just flee with Gaskon and his lads, as hard and fast as you can. Don’t pause until you reach Terre d’Ange.” I traced the line of her brows, so similar to my own.
    “Please? It’s the only way my mind will be at peace.”
    She hesitated only a heartbeat. “I promise.”
    I kissed her. “Good girl.”
    “You should sleep.” Sidonie touched my lips. “As much as I’d like to make love to you until the sun rises, I’d sooner have you go into battle well rested.”
    I caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Blessed Elua grant us a thousand more nights, Sun Princess, that I might make this one lost night up to you a thousandfold.”
    Her black eyes glittered with tears. “Only a thousand?”
    “Ten thousand,” I vowed. “A hundred thousand.”
    She laid her head on my shoulder. “I pray he does.”
    We lay like that for a long time, neither of us moving. I held Sidonie in my arms, listening to her breathe, feeling the heart beating steadily in my breast. And I prayed that Blessed Elua would prove merciful on the morrow. I prayed that our plan wouldn’t fall to pieces; I prayed that Astegal would take our bait. I prayed that this ragtag band of Euskerri wouldn’t be slaughtered, that Amílcar’s forces would recognize us as allies and rally in time. I prayed that Sidonie would be safe.
    And at the end, I allowed myself one selfish prayer that I would survive the coming battle.
    That I would live to see Terre d’Ange free of ensorcelment, to see my loved ones once more. To see the wondrous light of love in Phèdre’s eyes, the pride in Joscelin’s face.
    All of them.
    And to wed the woman I loved and spend a lifetime of peace with her.
    Blessed Elua grant us mercy.
    I slept.
    The day dawned grey and drizzling. The foot-soldiers committed to ambush were the first to depart, slipping over the hills and into the pine forests that lined the road to Amílcar.
    Two of Sidonie’s guards went to take up vantage points and serve as sentries observing the course of the battle. Three hundred Euskerri fussed and fidgeted with their Amazigh robes and scarves, making ready to stage our appearance. I checked my gear and my mount’s hooves one last time.
    All was in readiness.
    It was time to go.
    “Come back to me,” Sidonie said quietly. Fine raindrops glinted in her hair. “May Blessed Elua and his Companions watch over you all and grant us victory.”
    I kissed her, then fastened my scarf in place. “Be safe, love.”
    That was all. I mounted my horse—one of the Amazigh horses, a spirited bay with a strongly arched neck and a willing gait. I glanced around at my three hundred veiled and robed companions. Fearless Euskerri eyes gazed back at me in the slits between their indigo scarves. I adjusted my flowing sleeves to hide the gleam of my vambraces beneath them.
    “Let’s go,” I said.
    Janpier Iturralde echoed the command in Euskerri.
    Atop the crest of the first hill, I turned and looked back. Sidonie was standing, watching us, a small figure in the far end valley, determinedly regal and upright. Her guard surrounded her. Their mounts were saddled in the picket-line, ready to flee on a moment’s notice. Good. I raised one hand in farewell, then rode out of sight.
    We crossed the green hills, then plunged into the woods. I could hear men muttering and swearing as pine branches plucked at their robes. I told Janpier to bid them be silent, and he did. After that there was only the soft tramp of hooves and feet on the pine mast. I could smell the rich loam beneath. The earth was growing warmer. Spring was coming.
    I prayed I’d live to see it.
    The journey that had seemed endless by night went quickly by daylight. We made our way down the forested hills north of Amílcar and emerged from the woods to find the road empty. Beyond it stretched the sea, grey and wrinkled beneath the cloudy skies.
    South lay Amílcar.
    We went south. Thirty horsemen in the front, riding five abreast. I was in the center of the front rank. I’d assumed a position of command. It was expected; the plan we were executing was mine. The others followed on foot. We passed the pine-covered slopes where our comrades were hidden. I looked for them, but there was no sign.
    And then there before us was the Barca River, cutting a wide, winding course through the plains. There was the bridge across which I’d fled with Sidonie and Paskal and Captain Aureliano and his men, our valiant decoys.