Kushiel's Mercy

either.”
    “I will.” I hesitated, then fished the letter I’d written out of an inner pocket. “I don’t have the right to ask you any further favors . . .”
    L’Envers lips tightened. “Just ask.”
    “This is for Phèdre and Joscelin.” I handed him the letter. “I didn’t divulge any details.
    And I know you can’t give it to them yet. Not until I’m well away, not until you’ve raised a sufficient delegation that they might, might listen, instead of accusing you of abducting me. But it’s important to me. I owe them my life. I owe them everything I am.”
    He took it. “What else?”
    “Sidonie,” I said softly. “If I fail, if I’ve been misled . . .” My voice faltered. “You’re welcome to seek vengeance against me, I don’t care. But please . . . no matter how it seemed, she didn’t go willingly. Not really.”
    Somewhat in L’Envers’ worn, chiseled face softened. “I know.”
    I swallowed. “Whatever you can do to save her.”
    “Imriel.” Barquiel L’Envers hands settled on my shoulders. “She’s my blood. Why the hell do you think I wanted to protect her from you so badly?” His fingers flexed, biting deep. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
    “Thank you,” I whispered.
    He let me go. “Get out of here.”
    I went.
    Shrouded in my cloak, I boarded the barge. I wasn’t such a fool as to trust L’Envers wholeheartedly; before we cast off, I made certain all was as he’d promised. It was. The Bastard was belowdeck, looking profoundly discontented. I lingered briefly, cupping his whiskered muzzle in my hand. My saddlebags were stowed in a cabin, neatly packed.
    There was a generous purse. My sword-belt and my dagger were there. I buckled my weapons in place, my fingers shaking with the effort. Still, it made me feel stronger.
    I went to tell the barge captain all was in readiness. He was a taciturn Eisandine fellow, uneasiness lurking behind his eyes.
    “You’re sure you want to do this, your highness?” he asked.
    Sunlight sparkled on the Aviline River. I could see the distant walls of the Palace gleaming. Somewhere in the City behind us, Phèdre and Joscelin were strolling the outer gardens of Eisheth’s temple, beginning to get worried. Mayhap they were already alarmed, alerted that some intruder had struck down a young initiate and I was nowhere to be found.
    And somewhere in Carthage, Astegal, a prince of the House of Sarkal, appointed General of the Council of Thirty, preened his scarlet beard and dreamed of empire, basking under the ensorceled gaze of my girl Sidonie. Whom he might or might not have wed by now.
    Who did not love him, but had gone away with him willingly.
    I ground my teeth. “I’m sure.”
    The captain—Gilbert Dumel was his name—gave the order. “Oars away!”
    The moorings were loosed, the ropes tossed aboard the barge. Deft sailors leapt across the gap. Rowers bent their backs, groaning with effort. L’Envers and his men were gone, nowhere in sight.
    Another departure, another leavetaking.
    Gods, I was tired.
    The grey cloak puddled around me. I heard members of the crew murmuring, speculating.
    I bowed my head like Eisheth, splaying one hand on the sun-warmed boards of the prow to brace myself.
    Love.
    You will find it and lose it, again and again.
    A Priest of Elua had told me that long ago. It was true. There were so many loves in my life I had found and lost. So many treasures that had slipped through my fingers. Not this.
    I wouldn’t allow it.
    Not Sidonie.



Sixteen
    The barge made steady progress down the Aviline. I kept to myself, spending long hours practicing the Cassiline discipline in an effort to regain my strength, while the green banks of Terre d’Ange slid past us.
    Gilbert and his men gave me a wide, wary berth. They’d heard the stories in the City.
    Prince Imriel gone mad, tied to his bed and raving. I might have seemed sane enough now, but my wrists were still circled with healing scabs.
    They kept their word, though. No one betrayed my presence. I supposed that was one good thing about finding myself under the patronage of Barquiel L’Envers. He wasn’t a man anyone wanted to cross.
    And, too, they were scared. Somehow, Carthage had managed to strike at the very heart of Terre d’Ange, and no one knew how.
    As the days passed, I grew stronger. I’d fought back from worse. Berlik had nearly killed me; this was nothing.
    Fighting despair was harder.
    Even as my body slowly healed, the sense of weariness