Kushiel's Mercy (Imriel's Trilogy #3)

Kushiel's Mercy (Imriel's Trilogy #3) Page 49

“I remember . . . parts,” she murmured.

Oh, gods, it nearly broke my heart to look at her. “Something Bodeshmun did pulled a whole thread out of your memory,” I said gently. “And everything that’s left is partly unravelled. Is that what it feels like?” She nodded slowly. “Sidonie, I can undo it. If you can find a way for us to be alone together again, for a little while longer, I can explain everything.”

Her dark eyes dwelled on my face. “I don’t know.”

I didn’t dare push her. Not now. I was barely holding myself together. “Think on it,” I whispered. “Try to sleep. I don’t dare stay any longer. But I’ll be on the other side of the door, guarding your dreams. And I promise you, Princess, no one will ever harm you while there’s breath in my body.”

I rose slowly and carefully. Sidonie looked so damnably vulnerable. My doing, my fault. It tore me up inside like I’d swallowed broken glass. Still, it had to be done. I left the room quietly, closing the door behind me.

“She sleeps?” Girom inquired.

“Yes.” I leaned against the door, my knees trembling. My voice sounded strange to my ears. I’d entered that room as Leander Maignard, and left it as Imriel de la Courcel. “Yes, she was agitated for a time, but the draught took effect.”

“Good.” The physician nodded. “I’ll return in the morning to examine her.” He hesitated. “Are you actually planning to stay? You needn’t. It’s a powerful draught; she won’t wake for hours.”

“Yes.” I let my knees give way and slid down the door, hoping I looked more like a man settling in for a long vigil than a man collapsing. “I promised.” I tried to find Leander Maignard’s insouciant tone somewhere inside me. “One should always keep a promise to a lady, messire.”

Girom shrugged. “As you like. Send one of the guards to fetch me if there’s any difficulty before I arrive.”

With that, he took his leave. The Amazigh regarded me with impassive disinterest. There were two of them on guard. They exchanged a few words in their native tongue. One went to stir the fire in the hearth, then took up a post where he could keep an eye on both me and the outer door. The other stretched his length on a couch, clearly prepared to nap.

I couldn’t have cared less.

Imriel.

I was Imriel.

The knowledge pounded through me, over and over. I remembered everything. My madness, the flight to Cythera. My mother. Ptolemy Solon’s spell. I remembered everything I’d done as Leander, vividly. I even remembered Leander’s own memories, although they’d grown faint and ghostly, like somewhat read in a tale. But I remembered what I’d felt as Leander.

And it was nothing to what I felt now.

I was going to have to act fast. Ptolemy Solon hadn’t thought a mere semblance would fool Bodeshmun, and that was all I had now. I leaned the back of my head against the door, staring into the dim salon. The gouge in my skull throbbed. I had to get Sidonie out of here.

And I had to get Bodeshmun’s talisman.

Ah, gods! What was happening at home? There hadn’t been word of Terre d’Ange since Carthage. The thought made me shiver. Leander Maignard hadn’t cared overmuch.

I did.

It was a long night. I stayed awake, thinking. At some point, the Amazigh warrior on guard yawned and woke the other. They traded roles. Some hours later, another pair came to relieve them altogether. I watched the process through slitted eyes, thinking about the Amazigh garb hidden in my trunks.

A little after dawn, a Carthaginian chambermaid came with a tray of tea and fruit. She made to pass me and enter the bedchamber. I shook my head at her.

“No one passes,” I said. “I promised.”

The door opened behind me. “It’s all right,” Sidonie said quietly. “Elissa may enter.”

I got stiffly to my feet. “Did you sleep well, your highness?”

“Yes.” There were violet shadows under her eyes, but her gaze was clear and calm. Sidonie de la Courcel had come to a decision. “Thank you, Messire Maignard. Your presence helped. Would it be too much to ask you to return tonight?”

“No, my lady,” I said, bowing. “Not at all.”

Fourty-Five

I made my way wearily to my own chambers, praying I didn’t encounter Bodeshmun on the way. For a mercy, I didn’t. I was going to have to avoid him, at least up until the minute I killed him.

And I was still working on that plan.

Sunjata was there, muttering over his latest manifest. The gem trade had fallen off since Astegal had pulled the army out of New Carthage. I stopped dead, staring at him and remembering.

“You knew,” I said.

His head jerked up and he stared at me, recognition slowly dawning. “You . . . ?”

“Imriel,” I said. “Yes. I know myself.”

“Ah,” Sunjata said. “Yes. It was in her ladyship’s letter.”

I regarded him with a convoluted mixture of Leander’s fondness and my own bitter memories of his voice whispering in my ear, the stab of a long needle, his hand tugging a ring from my finger. “Why did you have me strip?”

He looked away. “I had to know. To see.”

I raised my brows. “You could have refused me.”

“Leander would have been hurt,” Sunjata murmured. “It would have been hard to explain. And . . . you nearly were him, at least at first. Even after I saw you.” His throat worked. “This is a lonely business, your highness.”

“Call me Imriel,” I said wryly. “We’ve been lovers.”

Sunjata’s dark skin flushed darker. “I have something for you,” he said, rising and going to his own bedchamber. He returned with the trunk I’d brought from Cythera, the one inscribed with his name. “These are yours.”

I was just opening the trunk as Kratos stumbled from the servant’s chamber, yawning and scratching himself. “What’s all this?” he asked as I withdrew a pair of fawn-colored woolen breeches.

“My things,” I said. Beneath the few items of clothing I’d brought on my flight lay the rest. My sword and dagger, my rhinoceros-hide sword-belt, shiny with wear. A purse with nothing in it but a polished stone with a hole in the middle that I carried for luck and remembrance. My eyes stung. “Kratos, my friend, it seems I’m not who I thought I was.”

“Oh?” Kratos rubbed his stubbled chin. “Who are you, then?”

“Imriel,” I said, withdrawing the vambraces Dorelei had given me, engraved with the image of the Black Boar of the Cullach Gorrym. A golden torc. “Imriel nó Montrève de la Courcel.”

Kratos stared. “Has he lost his wits?” he asked Sunjata.

“No,” Sunjata said. “Found them.”

I stood and drew my sword. It rang faintly. It was a well-tempered blade, longer and heavier than anything Leander Maignard had owned. I moved softly through the first few forms of the hours. “Sunjata, how much of Leander’s attire must I wear to preserve the semblance?”

“At a guess?” He shrugged. “The more you can manage, the better. Once someone’s seen you as Leander, they won’t unsee you, not unless you remove everything of his. But I wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“All right.” I sheathed the blade. Kratos was still gaping at me. “Is that why you came back?” I asked Sunjata. “For this moment?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I owed you that much.”

I nodded. “You should go now, Sunjata. I’m going to have to act quickly. And I’ll need Captain Deimos’ ship. Can you arrange passage back to Carthage elsewhere?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, there are ships carrying information and supplies between old Carthage and new. It should be no trouble.”

“Good.” I turned to Kratos. “My friend, you ought to go with him. I’ll give you money to book passage to Cythera from thence.” I smiled. “I suspect my lady mother will find you a joy and a delight the likes of which she hasn’t known since a clever and fearless fellow named Canis was in her service.”

Kratos closed his mouth with an audible click, then blinked a few times. “Why are you dismissing me, my lord?” he asked in bewilderment.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been a better ally than I could ever have dreamed. I ask for no more. The risks I’ve taken thus far are nothing compared to the ones I mean to take.”

“Huh.” Kratos scratched his chin again. “That’s some well-sounding noble folly, my lord. You prepared to risk yon golden-haired princess’ life for it?”

I hesitated.

“Didn’t think so.” A complacent smile spread over his homely features. “By all the gods, why shouldn’t I stay? Whoever you are, you’re an interesting fellow. What do you need me to do?”

“You’re sure of this?” I asked in a hard voice.

Kratos’ heavy shoulders moved in a shrug. “I said it, didn’t I?”

I paced the room, thinking. “More than anything, I need a way out of the palace that’s lightly guarded. Do you reckon you might find one?”

He laughed. “Oh, aye! I reckon.”

I closed my eyes briefly, thinking back on that day in the slave-market. The Aragonian boy with the curly hair and the stricken face. So much depended on this: his life, the lives of so many others. Not just mine, not just Sidonie’s. More than the fate of even Terre d’Ange hung in the balance. Blessed Elua had guided my hand—or Leander’s—the day I’d chosen Kratos. And he was right. If I didn’t want to bring this all crashing down on our heads, I couldn’t afford to be soft-hearted.

“My thanks, Kratos,” I said. An unexpected yawn overtook me. “I need to take a few hours of sleep. Will you wake me around midday?”

“Will you explain all this when I do?” he retorted.

“I will,” I promised.

With that, I took to my own chamber and fell onto the bed, exhausted in mind and body alike. I fell asleep almost instantly and slept like the dead until Kratos shook me awake. It felt like no time at all had passed, but the room was filled with afternoon sunlight.

“It’s later than I asked,” I commented, shaking myself awake.

“Aye.” Kratos’ face was grave. “I reckoned you needed it. And the eunuch saved you some time. He explained it all to me.” He gave a short, wondering laugh. “Never thought to find myself living something out of a bard’s tale.”

“No?” I rubbed my eyes. “Well, let’s just hope we live to hear the end of it, my friend.”

Accompanied by Kratos, I made my way to the inn near the harbor where Captain Deimos and his men were lodging. Since the army had left, the inn was empty save for their presence. I bought a jug of wine and met with Deimos at an isolated table while Kratos stood watch. There, I told the captain that I needed him to ready the ship to sail on a moment’s notice.

“To Carthage?” Deimos asked.

I shook my head. “Marsilikos.”

The captain was no fool. “That’s a damned dangerous passage this time of year, my lord, even if we hug the coast all the way. Is it necessary?”

“It will be,” I said.

Deimos eyed me. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Right now, better you don’t know the details. If you’re asking if it’s dangerous, yes. And if you’re not willing to do it, tell me now, Deimos. I’ll not hold it against you.” I touched the hilt of my sword. “But I swear to Blessed Elua, if you turn against me at the last minute, I’ll make sure killing you is the last thing I do.”

His mouth twisted. “Do you know, Ptolemy Solon made me swear a binding oath that I’d render you any assistance you asked. I wondered why the old ape was being so adamant.”

“Will you do it?” I asked. “I promise you, if you do, Terre d’Ange will reward you beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I’m not an oath-breaker,” Deimos said curtly. “You don’t need to bribe me. The ship will be ready by tomorrow.”

“Good man,” I said, sighing inwardly with relief. What I would have done if Deimos had refused, I couldn’t say. Sunjata had been right about one thing. I was indeed lucky that my mother loved me.

After the harbor, Kratos and I stopped at the bath-house. It felt strange and empty without the presence of scores of soldiers, and I felt acutely self-conscious as I stripped. I’d done it a dozen times without even thinking. Today, it was different. I could hear the faint echo of Ptolemy Solon’s voice in my memory, a pinch at my earlobes. Surely they will serve as a last line of defense against the perils of nudity.

Elua have mercy, what an insane risk.

I washed and dressed quickly, feeling safer once I was clad. Back in my chambers at the palace, I sorted through my things, trying to decide how much risk I was willing to take. I needed to prove myself to Sidonie, but I had a feeling that if the first thing I did was strip mother-naked in front of her, it would strain her fragile trust. In the end, I donned a pair of my own breeches and underclothes, but everything else I wore was Leander’s.

Sunjata had been gone, but he returned before nightfall. I admitted him when he knocked on the door of my chamber.

“I’m sailing for Carthage on the morrow,” he said directly. “I’ve come to bid you farewell.”

“My thanks.” I put out my hand. “Be safe, Sunjata.”

He paused, then clasped it. “And you. Be careful, my lord. Don’t forget that you still need to wear Leander’s mask for a time, at least in public.” He gave me his wry smile. “A little less . . . intensity . . . mayhap.”