Kushiel's Mercy

thoughtful. “He’s wary, though.”
    “He is,” Sidonie agreed. “Carthage is poised to make a gambit. If it succeeds, and the axes of power shift in their favor, well and good. If it fails, he may yet distance himself— and Ephesium—from it.”
    I felt hopelessly over my head. “What gambit?”
    “Therein lies the question,” Ysandre said in a wry tone. She tapped the vellum idly again, thinking. “I must confess, I am curious about this General Astegal, and I’m weary of trying to settle the bickering of Aragonia and those damned Euskerri. I’d cede sovereignty to the Euskerri over the D’Angeline territory they want if Aragonia would do the same, but there’s no reconciling them. And I’ve half a mind to hear Carthage’s suit anyway. We’ve had poor relations with them since . . .” She glanced at me, her face softening. “For a long time.”
    “Carthage still practices slavery,” I pointed out.
    “So do many nations,” Ysandre said gently. “But at least there has been no further traffic in D’Angelines. Imriel, I thank you for your candor in bringing this to me. I have promised a reply to General Astegal in a fortnight’s time. I have taken counsel with the Royal Admiral Quintilius Rousse, who sees no harm in their overture. I will take counsel with Drustan when he arrives, convene Parliament, and give my answer.”
    “Father’s late this year,” Sidonie commented.
    “Yes.” Queen Ysandre eyed her. “Our children are a trial to us.”
    The days that followed were fraught with tension. Emile in Night’s Doorstep located the Tsingano lad who’d delivered the missive, but the boy could tell me nothing useful about the lady who’d given it to him. A foreigner, he said, but he couldn’t guess from what nation. She’d asked him to deliver it because she was leaving the City in haste, or so she claimed. I spoke to the City Guard, but any number of foreign women had come and gone in the past two days. In the end, it didn’t really matter how the message had arrived. What mattered was what we would decide regarding it. And so we waited. We waited for Drustan to arrive; I waited for Phèdre and Joscelin to arrive. The Carthaginians awaited a reply. Quintilius Rousse awaited word to bring it. Alba awaited a clear line of succession.
    Parliament awaited a voice and a vote.
    Everyone was waiting, waiting.
    I felt myself wound tight and restless. For the first time, things went awry between Sidonie and me in the bedchamber, our desires staggering out of rhythm. She wanted reassurance, and I sought to lose myself in violent pleasure.
    I ignored her protestations for too long, too far.
    “Always!” Her voice cracked like a whip, one hand wrenching away the blindfold of black silk she wore. She glared at me. “Imriel—”
    I dropped the tawse paddle, dropped to my knees. “I’m sorry !”
    “Imriel . . .” Sidonie sighed, cupping my face. “I know. The world’s all out of kilter, isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Sidonie . . .”
    “So we’ll set it right.” There was a world of tenderness in her voice. “I asked you for this, do you remember? Tonight, you do what I say. Do you trust me?”
    “Always,” I said hoarsely.
    She handed me the blindfold. “Put this on.”
    I obeyed, tying it behind my head.
    “Present yourself,” she said, and I clasped my hands behind the nape of my neck as I’d taught her to do. I heard her pick up the tawse and circle me. My skin prickled. I was still wound tight and I didn’t want this, not now, but I was willing to bear it in atonement. The edge of the tawse scraped along my skin. My muscles tightened further. “I don’t mind giving my signale when we’re caught up in play that’s gone too far,” Sidonie said. “Or when I find my imagination exceeds my appetite.” She tapped me lightly between the shoulder blades with the paddle’s edge, and I flinched. “But you just weren’t listening to me tonight, were you?”
    “No,” I whispered.
    “You do make a lovely picture like this.” There was amusement in Sidonie’s voice. “But I’m not going to punish you.” The tawse fell to the carpet with a soft thud. She tugged off the blindfold, tangled her fingers in my hair. I blinked up at her, feeling the heat of her body, breathing in the scent of honeyed musk. “I’d never ask aught from you that you didn’t wish to give freely and joyously, Imriel.”
    “If you want—”
    “Oh, hush.” She gave my hair a