Kushiel's Mercy

through my hair, still wind-tangled. “I don’t trust Sunjata. He’s the one who took my ring. If he’s caught serving two masters, he’s not like to risk himself on Sidonie’s behalf.” I narrowed my eyes. “Solon, you said you knew a spell that could give one man the semblance of another.”
    “Yes.” He furrowed his brow. “But a mere glamour will not suffice to fool Bodeshmun.
    Ordinary folk, yes. Not a magus.” He hesitated. “Unless it were done so that you believed it yourself.”
    “Is that possible?” I asked.
    “It is.” Solon’s tone was reserved. “But it is dangerous. Of a surety, you would risk losing yourself.”
    “Solon,” my mother murmured. “I think this unwise.”
    “Who would I be?” I asked him, ignoring her.
    “Leander would be a good choice,” he said without looking at Melisande. “Your mother has trained him well. He knows Sunjata. Carthage is likely to accept him as my emissary, since the infernal Guild knows of our circumstances here. And he’s bored and ambitious and handsome enough to consider seducing Astegal’s wife.”
    I nodded curtly. “So I’d think myself Leander?”
    “You would,” Solon confirmed. “Until such time as the spell was broken. It would be necessary to create such a key.” He rubbed his chin, thinking. “A kiss, perhaps?”
    “From Sidonie?” I asked.
    The Wise Ape of Cythera studied me. “Are you that confident, Imriel de la Courcel, that this woman you love, this cousin of yours, will succumb to your charms no matter what face you wear, no matter who you believe yourself to be?”
    “No,” I said softly. I thought about my encounter in the temple that morning, the priestess pressing my hand to her breast. If your heart knows its true desire, you must trust it. “No, my lord. But I am very, very sure that I love Sidonie enough to take any chance.”
    Melisande sighed. “I mislike this. Imriel, you’ve suffered one ordeal of madness. Your mind is fragile.”
    I laughed shortly. “What happened to that bright vein of indomitable strength you spoke of yesterday?”
    “There are limits to what the mortal mind was meant to bear.” Her face was grave. “I fear you challenge them.”
    I glanced at Solon. “What do you say, my lord?”
    He shrugged. “As I said, it is dangerous. There is a chance you would succeed. There is a chance that you would fail, but that this Duc L’Envers will succeed in your stead with the keys I have given you, and you could be thus freed from the spell. And there is a chance that your wits would snap, and you would spend the balance of your life believing yourself to be Leander.”
    “I’ll take it,” I said.

Twenty-Three

    That evening, I acceded to my mother’s wishes and passed the night at her villa. I couldn’t maintain the will to refuse her, and in truth, if this was the last night in which I would know myself for many days, I didn’t wish to spend it alone in rented lodgings.
    I was scared.
    After what had happened in Alba, I’d sworn I’d never suffer myself to be bound by strange magics; and it was true, the memory of my madness was fresh and raw. The prospect of losing myself filled me with dread. But the prospect of doing nothing was worse. Someone had to get to Bodeshmun, and while Sidonie was in Astegal’s thrall, she was in danger. Mayhap it wasn’t immediate, but the moment aught went awry with Carthage’s scheme, Sidonie became a hostage in deadly earnest.
    I wrote a long letter to Barquiel L’Envers, detailing everything I knew. I tried to compose a letter to Phèdre and Joscelin, but in the end, I couldn’t think of anything I hadn’t already said. I settled for asking L’Envers to tell them I loved them. I paid a visit to Captain Oppius of the Aeolia. I released him from his pledge to wait for me, and he promised to see my letter delivered. Beyond that, I told him only that I would be staying on Cythera for a time.
    Melisande was unwontedly quiet and subdued. Although she misliked the plan, she had consented to assist. Leander had been told. He had no real quarrel with it, although he was envious and a bit irritated that Ptolemy Solon had sent a request for all his clothing.
    “Why not simply send me , my lady?” Leander asked Melisande. “It’s a good deal simpler and less risky. And I wouldn’t have to purchase a new wardrobe.”
    “If it were my choice, I would,” she replied. “But this is Imriel’s.”
    “I have to try it,” I said. “I’ll