Naamah's Kiss (38 page)

Read Naamah's Kiss Online

Authors: Jacqueline Carey

BOOK: Naamah's Kiss
9.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Others came to take in the scene. Jehanne took one look at the dead viper and went white. She rounded on the huntsman in a perfect fury. "Messire Gabon, this is unacceptable . Is it not part of your duties to see that the royal hunting grounds are tended? Were they not combed this morning?"

"Aye, but"

Her voice dripped poison. "Do you find your duties too onerous? Well, then"

"Leave off, Jehanne," Thierry interrupted her. "The man can't be expected to account for every stray snake."

It did nothing to abate her anger. "He most assuredly can! You'd make excuses for the wretch when you came within a hair's breadth of dying?"

He scoffed. "As though you wouldn't rejoice to have me out of the way!"

"And leave your father without an heir?" Her delicate nostrils flared. "Your argument would carry more weight if I'd given him one of my own blood. Mayhap it's escaped your notice that I haven't yet?"

"Because you're too vain to disfigure your perfect body!" Thierry shouted at her. "It doesn't mean you wouldn't gladly see me dead!"

"Oh, I'm sure the sainted Moirin would have worked some miracle to bring you back from death's doorstep," Jehanne said in a cold voice. Her gaze moved on to me. What had passed between us only yesterday, whether genuine or false, might never have been. It seemed quite impossible to believe that I had ever seen that beautiful face soft with pleasure. "You shot the viper?"

I nodded. "Aye, your majesty."

She gave me a curt nod. "House Courcel is in your debt. You"she pointed at the Master of the Hunt"are dismissed from your post."

The man bowed without comment, his face heavy.

Beneath the silk pavilions, we endured a repast that would have been pleasant under other circumstances. Everyone wanted to hear about how I'd shot the viper midstrike. Thierry, recovered from his scare, told them, laughing, how he'd made fun of my bow and teased me about being unable to hunt. I smiled reluctantly. My rustic, unadorned bow of yew-wood and sinew was passed around and admired.

But the Queen's mood cast a pall over everything. I understood better that day why people spoke of her temper in awed terms. It radiated out of her like a cold fire, withering everything in its path. Raphael danced attendance on her, doing his best to coax her into better spirits to no avail.

There was talk of famous hunting accidents going back into history. It seemed Prince Imriel de la Courcel had saved his cousin the Dauphine from a boar, which had been the start of the realm's most notorious romance of the day. The details of the story were argued and Lianne Tremaine was consulted.

"Half-true," the King's Poet said. "As I recall the tale, her horse bolted, and it was Prince Imriel who went after her. Someone else killed the boar. But that was where it began." She gave Thierry and me one of her quick, foxy smiles. "Mayhap you'll follow in their footsteps and give me a great, epic romance to capture in verse."

Thierry grinned. "Mayhap we will."

"Does your diadh-anam say so, Moirin?" Queen Jehanne asked coolly.

I flushed. "My diadh-anam is disconcerted by the day's events," I offered, striving for diplomacy.

She looked away. "I see."

It was ridiculous to feel hurt, but I wasby both her frigid manner and Raphael's utter disregard. So I sat and tried to be pleasant while the others teased Prince Thierry for playing the role of the damsel in distress in our budding epic. He endured it cheerfully. I wished I did feel my diadh-anam quicken for him. I liked him well enough. One might suppose it would be a worthy destiny for one of the Maghuin Dhonn to capture the heart of the heir to Terre d'Ange. It might mean great things for my people. But the spark inside me was quiet.

For a mercy, it was decided that the remainder of the hunt was to be canceled after we dined. Thierry professed himself sore from his fall and suggested an excursion to Balm House.

"The adepts there are among the best masseurs in the world." He smiled at me. "Will you allow me to treat you? It will be my first act of thanks for your saving my life."

Miserable as I was, the idea didn't appeal. I fidgeted with my bow. "Viper bites aren't necessarily fatal, you know."

"They can be." Thierry nudged me. "Say yes."

"Mayhap Moirin has yet to recover from her visit to Cereus House yesterday," Lianne Tremaine drawled. "How was your assignation?"

Hot blood scalded my face. "Oh" I glanced involuntarily at Jehanne. A hint of a cruel smile curved her lips. "Fine."

Lianne pressed me. "Oh, come! Who did you have?"

If I could have sunk into the earth, I would have. "Forgive me, but I'm not accustomed to speaking freely about such matters," I said in desperation. "It's not done among the Maghuin Dhonn."

The King's Poet looked puzzled. "But you're the one told me yourself that" She caught herself before humiliating me outright by informing the entire hunting party that Raphael de Mereliot had told me I had a lot to learn in bed.

"Oh, leave her be!" Thierry put an arm around my shoulders. "Moirin's been busy saving lives and limbs. I reckon we can give her a few days' grace to accustom herself to D'Angeline ways."

"Visiting Cereus House makes for an ambitious start," Balthasar Shahrizai observed. His vivid blue eyes studied me keenly, the sharp edges of his gift probing. "What made you choose it?"

Once again, my gaze slid toward Jehanne.

"Ah yes, of course." Balthasar smiled and said something in a foreign tongue. The others laughed.

Thierry's face darkened. "Enough," he said shortly. "Let's be off."

As we rode back toward the palace, I asked him what Balthasar had said.

"Nothing of import." He grimaced. "A Caerdicci proverb about two women competing for the same man."

"Oh." At least Balthasar had misunderstood my glance. In a way, he wasn't wrong. I had chosen Cereus House because Jehanne had trained there. "Thierry, do you really think she wishes you dead?"

"Jehanne?" He didn't answer right away. "No, I suppose not."

"Then why is she so angry at me for killing the viper?" I asked.

Thierry gave a short laugh. "Moirin, she's not angry at you for saving my life. She's angry because it made you the center of attention. In her world, Jehanne is the sun and the rest of us are but humble planets orbiting around her."

"Oh." It didn't make me feel better. I didn't want to be the center of attention. In fact, I didn't have the slightest idea what I wanted anymore. All I knew was that I was a wretched knot of conflicting desires. I wished I'd never gotten caught up in this mess, wished I didn't feel bound to Raphael, wished I'd never let Jehanne seduce me. I wished there was one person in this bedamned realm I could truly trust, so I could at least talk openly with another living soul without finding my confidence betrayed.

I wished my mother were here.

The thought made me so homesick, I nearly wept. I would have given up every gown and bauble Raphael had given me and Thierry's lovely filly for five minutes of my mother's counsel. The meadow swam in my gaze. With one surreptitious hand, I rubbed my eyes hard enough that I saw red streaks behind my eyelids.

When I opened my eyes, I still saw a splash of red.

On the far side of the meadow, two men were coming toward us, one mounted and one on foot. It was the latter that made the red splash. He was tall and graceful, and he wore robes of crimson silk.

My heart beat faster.

"That's the Due de Barthelme," Thierry said in a wondering tone. "What's he doing out here with a Priest of Naamah?"

"Looking for me, I hope," I whispered.

Ahead of me, I saw Raphael say something to Jehanne, then check his mount. She glanced back at me, her expression thawing visibly. She drew rein on her pretty white mare and gestured to me.

I rode forward alone.

The priest had hair the color of oak leaves, long and shining. He lifted his head and smiled as I drew near. It was a beautiful smile, calm and serene, like a gift. Everything about him was like a gift. And his eyes were very, very green. As green as grass, as green as rushes.

"Moirin, daughter of Fainche?" he asked.

I nodded.

His beautiful smile deepened. "I believe I'm your father."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 

At that moment, nothing in the world could have felt better than my father's embrace.

I didn't plan to throw myself at the manafter all, we were strangers to one another. But he had appeared like an answered prayer, and the look of simple gladness on his face as I dismounted undid me. I flung my arms around his neck. He didn't flinch or falter, only held me in his arms. I buried my face against the shoulder of his robe for a long moment, then gathered myself and pulled away.

I wiped my eyes. "Phanuel Demarre?"

"Indeed." He studied my face with wonder, then gave himself an unselfconscious shake and laughed softly. "I'm sorry. I came as soon as I heard the news. I always wondered, but it's somewhat altogether else to see you in the flesh."

He introduced me to Rogier Courcel, the Due de Barthelme, who bowed in the saddle.

"Well met, my lady," he said politely.

The rest of the hunting party arrived. Behind the polite exchange of greetings the whispers went around, but there was no malice in them. Both Raphael and Thierry looked genuinely happy for me. Lianne Tremaine wore an odd, absent look as though she were jotting notes in her head lest the scene play out one day in some epic verse.

Even Jehanne was different in my father's presence. "Your daughter's caused quite the stir, Brother Phanuel," she commented.

My father smiled and laid one hand on my shoulder. "So I've heard."

"Surely not the latest." Something in his smile softened her tone. "Not an hour ago, she saved the Dauphin's life."

He glanced at me. "Oh?"

In the oddest way, it reminded me of my mother. "It was only a viper," I said. "They're not always fatal. I'll tell you all about it if you'd like."

"I would," he said solemnly. "I would like to hear every last little detail of your life, Moirin, from your birth to whatever uproar you've been causing. But I don't wish to interrupt." He shrugged and spread his hands with self-deprecating grace. "As I said, I came as soon as I heard."

Other books

Retribution by Lea Griffith
The Smart One by Jennifer Close
Theron's Hope (Brides of Theron) by Pond, Rebecca Lorino, Lorino, Rebecca Anthony
Too Much of Water by J.M. Gregson
Damocles by S. G. Redling