Kushiel's Mercy - Jacqueline Carey [155]
“No!” She hissed the word at me, eyes showing the whites all around in sheer terror. “Leander, please! Don’t do this to me. I can’t do this!”
I reached for her. “Sidonie . . .”
She shrank back farther. “Go away! Please, go away!”
I sat back on my heels. “Will you just please listen?”
“No.” Sidonie shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as though to block out the world. A pulse in the hollow of her throat beat frantically. “No, no, no, no. I thought you were . . . I don’t know, but you’re not. Just please, go away.”
Ah, Elua.
I knew everything.
“Sidonie,” I said, desperate to reach her. “Alais’ dog was killed by a bear!”
For a long moment, she didn’t speak or react. I knelt silently, waiting, acutely aware of time dwindling. And then slowly, slowly, Sidonie’s eyes opened. She watched me without speaking, breathing hard through parted lips.
“It happened in Alba,” I said. “But you were right; there was a boar, too. Years earlier, at a hunting party. We stumbled over a boar. Your horse bolted. Alais’ dog, Celeste, was gored, but she survived. I stitched her wound in the woods using Amarante’s embroidery kit.”
“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