Naamah's Blessing (4 page)

Her brows rose. “No?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

Noémie regarded him with bemusement. “Well, you are welcome here nonetheless.”

He bowed to her in the Ch’in manner, hand over fist. “For that, and for your kindness to Moirin, I am grateful.”

Inside the temple, an air of quiet grace prevailed. Priests and priestesses in flowing robes of red silk glanced at us with gentle curiosity as they went about their duties, curiosity tempered by a long habit of patience.

This was Naamah’s place, and all lovers were under her protection. I felt a tightness inside me begin to ease.

“Tell me, my lady,” I said to Noémie over a light meal of honey-cakes
and sweetened tea. “How does it come to pass that my father spends his days at the Palace? I thought him more the wandering type.”

“So he was.” She rested her chin in her hand. “But since the Duc de Barthelme was appointed Lord Minister of the realm, he has wished to keep the companion of his youth close by him.”

I frowned. “The Duc de Barthelme?”

“Rogier Courcel,” she clarified. “Another descendant of House Courcel, and a close kinsman of the King. Your father served as his royal companion.”

“Aye, I remember.” I did, although it was a vague memory. I’d met the man but briefly, distracted by the woeful tangle of affairs in which I’d gotten myself enmeshed and the enormity of meeting my long-lost father. “What does it mean that he was appointed Lord Minister?”

Again, Noémie studied me. “You heard of Queen Jehanne’s death?” she asked gently.

I nodded.

Her kind gaze was troubled. “Since that time, King Daniel has been… disengaged from the affairs of the realm. Recognizing his failings, he appointed his grace the Duc de Barthelme to administer to matters of importance.”

“You don’t think he should have done that, do you?” Bao asked.

Noémie d’Etoile looked mortified. “I did not say that!”

His lean-muscled shoulders rose and fell. “You didn’t need to.”

She was silent a moment. “I think it sets a dangerous precedent,” she admitted at length. “But mayhap a necessary one. I will be glad when Prince Thierry returns from Terra Nova to help his father bear the burden of rule.”

“Thought so,” Bao confirmed, helping himself to another honey-cake. “At least this Duc has the sense to seek out Moirin’s father’s counsel. So that’s good, huh?”

Noémie sighed. “It is.”

Intrigue.

Politics.

To be sure, I had returned to Terre d’Ange. I sighed too, already feeling weary. “My lady,” I said to Noémie. “Might I visit the temple proper, and pay my respects to the goddess and my ancestress?”

She stood with alacrity. “Of course, child!”

It was a powerful thing to see the image of my great-great-grandmother posing for the likeness of Naamah. The first time I had beheld it was the first time I’d felt myself truly connected to the rich history of Terre d’Ange. Her head was tilted to one side, regarding the pair of doves held nestled in her cupped hands. She looked so very, very serene.

I sank to my knees, gazing at her.

Bao sat cross-legged beside me. “So she’s your ancestress, huh?”

“Aye.” I smiled a little. “Well, it was my great-great-grandmother who posed for the effigy. She was a priestess of Naamah, and the first royal companion.”

He cocked his head, contemplating the image. “Something in her face reminds me of the
tulku
Laysa. Not a likeness, but a calmness.”

My smile turned rueful. “I suppose I’m not at all like her, am I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bao said, surprising me. “You can be. You’re different with women than you are with men.”

“I am?”

“You hadn’t noticed?” He looked amused. “Yes, Moirin. I heard the stories when you were with your Queen Jehanne. You soothed her temper. And although it was a different matter, I saw how you were with the princess in Ch’in. You were always patient and kind.” Bao shrugged, and made an eloquent gesture with one hand. “With women, you are like water, flowing and yielding. With men…” He grinned, banging his fists together. “Sparks.”

“Hmm.” Thinking on it, I realized there was a measure of truth to Bao’s words. “I don’t intend it.”

“It’s not good or bad,” Bao said philosophically. “It’s who you are.” He nudged me with one knee. “Anyway, I like sparks.”

“Lucky for us both.” When I leaned over to give him a fleeting kiss, he uncoiled smoothly and pulled me down atop him, startling a laugh
from me. “You’re becoming more D’Angeline than D’Angelines,” I said breathlessly.

Bao slid one arm around my waist, cupped the back of my head, and kissed me. “I do not think your ancestress will mind, nor will Naamah,” he said. “After all, she did bless our wedding.”

I smiled at the memory of Naamah’s blessing unfolding like a burst of golden warmth over the Rani’s garden, the looks of wonder on the faces of all assembled. “So she did,” I agreed, returning his kiss.

There was the sound of soft laughter.

Extricating myself from Bao’s arms, I rose to see my father standing in the doorway, his green eyes sparkling with affection and mirth. Sunlight from the oculus above us gleamed on his long hair the color of oak-leaves and illuminated his crimson priest’s robes until they glowed. His smile widened as a joyful cry escaped my lips, and I flung myself on him. “You’re here!”

“I’ve been here all along, Moirin.” My father held me close. “You’re the one who’s been gone, and I give thanks to Blessed Elua for your safe return.” Like Noémie, he drew back to look at me. “Your mother will be so very, very glad.”

My heart leapt into my throat. “You’ve had word from her? She’s well?”

He nodded gravely. “Oh, yes. I sent word of your departure to Clunderry Castle as you asked. Since then, once or twice a year, we’ve exchanged letters.”

I rubbed my eyes. “I wonder who writes them for her. Or reads them, for that matter.”

“Aislinn mac Tiernan, I believe,” my father said.

“Oh.”

“Who is Aislinn mac Tiernan?” Bao inquired. “Another of your royal ladies?”

“Royal, but not mine.” I gathered my scattered thoughts, smiling through my tears. “Father, this is Bao, my husband.”

“Indeed, so I heard. Naamah’s blessing on your union.” My father executed a graceful Ch’in bow. “Master Lo Feng’s apprentice, I believe?”

Bao blinked at him. “You remember?”

My father’s eyes crinkled. “A day of breathing lessons, yes. And then you and your mentor spirited my daughter to the far side of the world. It is not the sort of thing one forgets.”

Bao looked guilt-stricken. “Ah… we did not mean to take her from you.” Without thinking, he touched his chest where the spark of our shared
diadh-anam
flickered deep inside. “Moirin was following her destiny.”

My father laid one hand on Bao’s shoulder. “I know,” he said somberly. “And I am grateful to you for bringing her safely home.” His gaze settled on me. “Did you find it?”

“I did.” I took a deep breath. “Although… I do not think it is finished.”

For a moment, I saw the weight of worry and years age my father’s face; then he squared his shoulders, and it passed. “Will you be leaving again, then?”

Bao and I exchanged a glance. Since arriving in Terre d’Ange, neither of us had felt the imperative drive of destiny; only a sense that it was lying in wait.

“No,” I said. “Not right away, I don’t think. I don’t know. I’ve unfinished business here, too.” I rubbed my eyes again. “I’d like to see my mother, but ’tis late in the season to set out for Alba, isn’t it?”

“It is,” my father said in a gentle tone. “Already the Straits grow dangerous. You might send word through a swift courier, but I’d advise against travel.”

“Spring,” Bao said firmly. “After the expedition to Terra Nova returns, and that idiot Lord Lion Mane with it. You will finish your business with him, Moirin, and we will go to Alba.”

“Aye?”

He gave a decisive nod. “I dream of a cave in the hollow hills, and a stone doorway. I dream of a bear unlike any mortal bear. We will go there.”

My father glanced from one of us to the other. “You’ve stories to tell, haven’t you?”

I thought of the long history that unfurled behind the shining wake of the ship that had brought us to these shores; of the bronze cannons of the Divine Thunder booming on the battlefield, our princess Snow Tiger dancing on the precipice of a cliff with an arrow in each hand, brave Tortoise blown into a smoking crater.

Of the dragon in flight, summoning the thunderstorms; of the vast blue sky unfolding above the Tatar steppe.

Of Vralia and chains, scrubbing the endless tiles of the floor of a Yeshuite temple. The Patriarch of Riva’s creamy smile, and my sweet boy Aleksei’s reluctant heroism, until he became a hero in truth.

Of Bao tossing and turning in sweat-soaked sheets in the Rani’s palace, purging the poppy-sickness from every pore and orifice.

Of Jagrati seated in the throne-room of Kurugiri, the black fire of Kamadeva’s diamond at her throat, glaring at me through the twilight while the Rani Amrita stood between us, her hands raised in a warding
mudra
.

“Oh yes, we’ve stories to tell,” I murmured to my father. “And I daresay you’ll not believe half of them.”

He inclined his head to me. “I will try.”

FIVE

T
o his everlasting credit, my father
did
try to believe and understand.

I could not blame him for struggling with it.

Even to me, who had lived through it, the tale Bao and I told seemed like a child’s fable.

“Enough,” I said at length. “There will be time aplenty to tell the whole of it. Tell me, Father, what passes here in Terre d’Ange? I was surprised to learn you’ve become involved in politics.”

He gave a graceful shrug and spread his hands. “Not involved, not really. Rogier asked me to provide a shoulder on which to lean, a willing ear to listen without judgment. As I think you came to know, it is one of the most important aspects of serving as a royal companion. You would have done the same for Jehanne if she’d asked it.”

I was silent.

“Ah, gods!” My father looked stricken. “Forgive me, Moirin. That was uncommonly thoughtless of me.”

“No, it’s all right.” I fidgeted with my bangles. “Do people… does everyone blame me for her death?”

“Of course not!” His reply was swift. “Why would you even think it?”

“Moirin blames herself,” Bao murmured.

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple. I couldn’t have chosen
otherwise. But I cannot escape the knowledge that Raphael and I could have saved her if I had stayed. And… folk look askance at me. They must know it, too.”

My father steepled his fingers, touching them to his lips. “Moirin, I’ll not pretend there wasn’t a good deal of speculation surrounding your departure,” he said slowly. “And there’s bound to be the same surrounding your return. You’re a child of the Maghuin Dhonn. That alone is cause for suspicion. It always was. Given the history of our people, it cannot be helped.”

I looked away. “I know.”

My mother’s folk were wild and reclusive, and all that was known of them in Terre d’Ange was that the bear-witches of the Maghuin Dhonn possessed dire magic, even if it was no longer true.

“If you had stayed, it would be different,” my father said gently. “Those who came to know you came to love you. And they will again. Give them time to acquaint themselves with you once more, time to forget tales of summoning demons, and remember that you were the one who coaxed Jehanne de la Courcel into going forty days without making a chambermaid weep.” He smiled. “Do you suppose you could manage to avoid causing a scandal for a month or so?”

I gave a reluctant smile in reply. “I’ll try.” Taking a deep breath, I confronted another prospect I didn’t relish. “I should pay my respects to King Daniel on the morrow, shouldn’t I?”

He nodded. “It would be the proper thing to do.”

The three of us talked long into the evening, and then my father departed to return to the Palace, with a promise that we might seek him out there on the morrow.

That night, I lay restless in bed. The chamber that Noémie had given us was small, but pleasant. It had a window that overlooked an inner courtyard, so I would be less inclined to the stifling sensation that sometimes overcame me in man-made spaces, and the bed-linens were soft and scented with lavender. It should have been a peaceful place for repose, but my mind was too full for sleep.

“What is it?” Bao asked drowsily. “Are you fretting over meeting the King? I thought you liked him.”

“I do,” I said. “I don’t know if I can bear to face his grief.”

Bao propped himself on one elbow. “His or yours?”

“Both,” I admitted.

He stroked my cheek with his free hand. “Moirin, it is part of the price of being alive. Of loving.”

“I know,” I murmured. “It hurts, that’s all.”

“I know,” he echoed, tugging me into the curve of his body and breathing the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves until I began to relax. “So tell me,” he whispered against the back of my neck. “Who is Aislinn mac Tiernan if not one of your many royal ladies?”