Kushiel's Mercy

quarters at the Palace.” I flexed my stiff hands. “Tied to my bed because I’ve been a stark raving lunatic since the last full moon.”
    “Oh, Imri!” The anguished tone of hope in Phèdre’s voice nearly broke my heart. She laid a hand on my brow. “Is it true?”
    Tears trickled from the corners of my eyes. “I promise.”
    “Joscelin!” Her voice rang out, filled with urgency. “ Joscelin!”
    He came at a run, startled out of sleep. For the past month, they’d been taking turns keeping watch over me. “What is it?”
    “The fever’s broken.” Tears gleamed on Phèdre cheeks. “He knows himself.”
    Joscelin turned his bloodshot gaze on me. “Truly?”
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Joscelin, you look like hell. You look worse than I did when you found me in Vralia.”
    “Oh, Elua !” Joscelin dropped to his knees beside the bed. There were tears in his eyes, too. “I thought we’d lost you. Wherever it was you went, I didn’t think you were coming back.”
    “I’m back,” I said hoarsely. “I just wish I didn’t remember.”
    He shook his head. “Don’t . . . just don’t. It was the fever talking.”
    Phèdre sent a guard to fetch the Court chirurgeon while Joscelin worked at the ropes binding me to the bed. My struggles had rendered the knots impossible to untie, and he had to saw at them with a dagger, working with tender care not to further injure my abraded flesh. Between the two of them, they helped me sit upright, propped against pillows, and drink a cup of water. I was so weak, Phèdre had to hold the cup for me. I could feel the water blazing a cool trail into my shrunken belly.
    “Thank you.” I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes, exhausted by the effort. “Where’s Sidonie?”
    There was a brief silence.
    “Sidonie?” Joscelin asked in a puzzled tone.
    I opened my eyes.
    “Like as not in Carthage by now.” Phèdre refilled the cup from a ewer. “Why, love?”
    “Carthage?” I stared at her. “No.”
    “To wed Prince Astegal,” she reminded me, holding the cup to my lips.
    “No.” I pushed it away feebly. “No, no, no! Have you all lost your wits?”
    Their faces fell. “It’s all right,” Joscelin said to Phèdre. “He knows himself, and us. The rest will come.”
    “I just thought . . .” she murmured.
    “I know,” he said.
    “No!” I shouted at them. “Gods above, I’m fine!” I saw the fear in their eyes and caught myself, falling silent. I made myself look at the memories of my month-long madness.
    Sidonie wasn’t in them.
    This was the only way to shield you from it.
    “Astegal,” I muttered. “What did you do? What did they do, those damned Carthaginians?
    What did they do?” I repeated, addressing Phèdre and Joscelin. “The full moon, the mirror? What did they do ?”
    “Hush.” Phèdre stroked my cheek. “It’s all right, love.”
    “What did you see in the mirror?” I demanded.
    They exchanged a glance, faces softening. “It was a marvel,” Joscelin said, wonder in his tone. “The invisible ties that bind all things in the cosmos . . .” His voice trailed off.
    “No,” I said dully. “It was a trick. It was some vast and terrible enchantment, and I was protected from it only because the eunuch stabbed me with something that sent me mad.”
    I laughed in despair. “Madness as a shield against madness. Now I’m sane, and you’re raving.”
    “You’re sick,” Phèdre said gently.
    “I’m sane,” I said. “Sidonie loves me. She defied her mother and half the realm for my sake. She would never wed Astegal. And Terre d’Ange would never betray its alliance with Aragonia to unite with Carthage.”
    Phèdre shook her head in sorrow and went to meet the chirurgeon.
    Somewhat was wrong, terribly wrong. Filled with terror, I held my tongue and suffered myself to be examined by the royal chirurgeon, Lelahiah Valais. She confirmed that the worst of the fever had broken, bandaged my injuries, and recommended strong broth and a great deal of sleep. I heard them speak in hushed tones about my continued delusions.
    “Do you think it’s because he was taken by Carthaginian slavers as a child that he harbors such a peculiar grudge?” Joscelin asked the chirurgeon.
    “Oh, yes,” Lelahiah said. “I’m sure of it. And to be fair, I’ve heard there are folk outside the City unhappy with the Queen’s decision.”
    “People are always fearful of change,” Phèdre murmured. “But what do you make of