Naamah's Blessing (17 page)

I ignored the latter comment. “Your infamous kinswoman Melisande Shahrizai’s blood runs in the veins of House Courcel, does it not?”

“It does indeed,” Balthasar agreed. “But while they are quick to claim her son Imriel de la Courcel as an ancestor, they are not so eager to acknowledge his maternal parentage.” His expression was serious. “History casts a shadow over the Shahrizai name as surely as it does the Maghuin Dhonn. But I know Thierry de la Courcel well, and loyalty counts for a great deal with him.”

“Bao?” I asked.

“Hmm?” His head came up; I’d lost him to the
chocolatl
again. He wiped froth from his upper lip. “I think they are being honest, and it is a gamble. Do what you think best, Moirin.”

“What do
you
think, my lady?” I asked Gamaliel’s wife.

“Me?” Mariette Shahrizai looked startled.

I nodded. “You.”

Once again, she flushed; but she held my gaze without flinching. “I am not entirely sure what you are asking me, Lady Moirin,” she said slowly. “But I will tell you what I know of House Shahrizai. They are Kushiel’s faithful scions, and they serve him with honor and integrity. That may mean nothing to one such as you, touched only by Naamah’s bright grace. But it means the world to me.” She hesitated. “Will that answer serve, my lady?”

I didn’t understand; not wholly. But I felt a sense of rightness. “I do believe it will.”

“Then you will accept our gift?” Celestine demanded, sitting very straight and upright in her chair.

I smiled at the matriarch of House Shahrizai. “Aye, it does. I will accept it with thanks, my lady.”

This time, I won a look of approval from her. “A wise choice.”

I took another deep drink of
chocolatl
, and hoped it was true.

EIGHTEEN

T
he house was perfect.

As Balthasar had said, it was situated on the outskirts of the City of Elua—a modest dwelling surrounded by trees, many of them evergreens. I strolled the grounds, inhaling deeply.

Bao regarded me fondly. “Have you been missing your wilderness?”

“I have,” I admitted, resting one hand on the rough bark of a graceful cypress tree. “But this helps.”

Once inside, I was surprised to find that the house came equipped with elegant furnishings, as well as a staff that was modest by D’Angeline standards, but extravagant by mine—a steward, a cook, two maidservants, a footman, and a groom.

“We are here to serve at a moment’s notice should any of the House wish to entertain here.” The steward, Guillaume Norbert, was a grave fellow with silver-grey hair tied back in a severe braid, but he unbent enough to offer a faint smile. “Now we are here to serve at your pleasure, madame.”

I hoped I had sufficient funds to pay their wages.

As though reading my mind, the steward gave a discreet cough. “Of course, Lady Celestine has ordered all relevant details of our service to be directed to her factor.”

“That’s… very generous,” I said.

There was quiet pride in his face, in the faces of all the household staff. “I am pleased that you think so.”

“Moirin?” Bao’s voice came from another room. He sounded strange.

“Aye?”

“Come see.”

Guillaume Norbert arched his brows. “I believe messire has found the seraglio.”

I found Bao in a sumptuous room beyond the far doors of the dining hall, covered with Akkadian carpets, strewn with cushions, and outfitted with many of the accoutrements of violent love-play the Shahrizai favored, including a tall, glass-fronted case that displayed an array of whips and paddles, and a tall wooden wheel equipped with four leather manacles.

Bao spun the wheel. “Huh.”

“Does messire desire a demonstration?” the steward inquired with perfect equanimity, beckoning to the younger of the two maidservants. She stepped forward willingly.

“No!” Bao backed away from the wheel. “No, messire does not.” He eyed me uncertainly. “Does he?”

“No.” I reached out to halt the wheel’s spinning. “I think not.”

The steward Guillaume inclined his head. “Shall I have these items removed, madame?”

“No.” I gazed at the weathered wood and the leather manacles, wondering who had worn them and what pleasures they had found in it. “Let them stay for now. It is a part of the house’s history.”

“As you will.”

There was one item I
did
ask to have removed—an iron hook that hung on a chain from the highest rafter of the master bedchamber. What it had been used for, I could not even begin to guess, but I felt better for having it gone.

After that, Bao and I settled quite comfortably into our new lodgings. As expected, the news of House Shahrizai’s patronage caused ripples in the City of Elua; but overall the tide of fortune continued to turn in our favor.

First and foremost came a message of support from the Cruarch of Alba.

I had never met Faolan mab Sibeal, the Cruarch of Alba. But he had a name for being a strong, just ruler; and he was a kinsman, a descendant of Alais the Wise. His message was brief but succinct, thanking and congratulating King Daniel for making a choice that acknowledged the shared heritage and long-standing history that lay between Alba and Terre d’Ange.

“How?” I asked when I heard the news, glad but bewildered. “I thought the Straits were impassable in the winter!”

“They are for ships.” Bao’s eyes glinted. “But Naamah’s temples use doves to carry messages. You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. “I did not.”

“They say at Eglantine House that the monarchs of both realms have tried to duplicate the feat,” Bao offered. “Without success. The doves fly only for priests of Naamah’s Order.”

My father confirmed it when I met with him the following day.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “ ’Tis an art honed over the centuries. We thought the Cruarch ought to know.”

He looked tired to me, more tired than he ought. “
We
?” I asked.

“Naamah’s Order, yes.” My father gave me a faint smile. There were dark smudges beneath his green, green eyes. “I had the honor of playing a part in the decision.”

“That must not have sat well with his grace the Royal Minister,” I said softly.

My father didn’t deny it. “My lord Rogier is… concerned… that the orders of the priesthood have involved themselves in politics. First Eisheth’s Order, and now Naamah’s.” He knuckled his eyes and yawned. “But we discussed it into the small hours of the night, and I believe he understands that this is a courtesy we felt compelled to extend to the Cruarch, not some nefarious plot to undermine his influence.”

I touched his crimson sleeve. “I’m sorry. I never meant to put you in an awkward situation.”

His gaze cleared. “Nor did you, Moirin. It’s nothing, I promise.” He changed the subject. “So tell me, how are the plans for Eglantine
House’s spectacle progressing? Everyone in the City is perishing of curiosity.”

I laughed. “I’ve no idea. Bao’s taken to being almighty secretive about the entire thing. All I know is that he’s consulting with the master of props to devise somewhat he claims has never been seen in Terre d’Ange. And if Bao’s boasting, like as not he’ll make good on his claim.”

My father smiled. “I rather like that young man.”

“He rather likes you,” I said. “I think you may have been the first D’Angeline he
did
like. I certainly wasn’t.”

He laughed, too. “Well, he’s more than changed his mind on that score. You’ve done well together, the two of you.” His expression turned serious. “I’m very proud of the way you’ve dealt with this business, Moirin. You’ve handled it with grace and thoughtfulness.”

I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. It means a good deal to me to know you think so.”

“I do,” he affirmed.

Plans continued apace, secretive and otherwise.

Benoit Vallon summoned Bao and me to Atelier Favrielle for a fitting. Like all his work, the wardrobe he had created for Bao was elegant in its simplicity: close-fitting black breeches that tucked into boots, and creamy white shirts that lay open at the neck, with a bare minimum of ruffle at the cuff. He’d sewn the black-and-white magpie square onto the back of a black velvet coat that fell to knee-length, also fitted, but loose enough to permit freedom of movement. It looked D’Angeline, but it spoke of Ch’in, too.

“I like it,” Bao said decisively, examining himself in the mirror and adjusting his cuffs. “I like it very much. Moirin?”

“You look splendid,” I assured him.

He preened. “I do, don’t I?”

For me, the couturier had created a series of gowns in deep jewel-toned hues: emerald, ruby, amethyst. He had used the sari fabric as subtle accents to complement the gowns, hints of their ornate richness revealed in the borders and linings. I had to own, it was a clever usage, though I was glad I’d kept a few back.

“
This
is what you will wear to the oath-swearing ceremony, my lady,” Benoit announced, a gown of pale gold brocade fabric over his arm.

It was the piece on which he had used the square of embroidered bamboo, cutting it apart and reassembling it as a high collar that framed my face. The green and gold silk harmonized surprisingly well with the gold brocade.

“Very nice.” Benoit fussed with the collar. “You see the effect it creates? As though you are rising from a bamboo grove like some… some exotic young goddess.” He scowled uncertainly at my reflection. “Are you angry that I did not keep the square intact?”

It was the first time I’d ever heard him sound nervous. “No, Messire Vallon,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

His scowl vanished. “Ah, good! My thought was to use both pieces in a symbolic manner.” He laid one hand on Bao’s shoulder. “The magpie square represents the love of your distant mother, spread across your shoulders like a protective cloak. And this…” He traced the line of my bamboo-embroidered collar. “This represents the embrace of your distant sister, placing her arms around your neck.”

My breath caught in my throat as I thought of Bao’s mother and sister; so far away, so briefly met. It was unlikely we’d ever see them again. “Oh, that’s lovely! Thank you, Messire Vallon.”

Bao nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Very lovely. Thank you for honoring them.”

Benoit Vallon’s scowl returned. “Oh, now! If you want to
thank
me, you’ll grant me an invitation to the ceremony.” He gave a loud sniff. “I’d rather not have to take my chances on the lottery like the common rabble.”

I smiled at him. “I will see that an invitation is delivered on the morrow, Messire Vallon.”

He gave another resounding sniff. “Good.”

NINETEEN

A
week before the oath-swearing ceremony, a lottery was held for the commonfolk of the City. By the excitement it generated, I daresay it was one of the better ideas Lianne Tremaine had given me.

The royal theater in which the ceremony and ensuing celebratory spectacle was to take place had seats for two hundred, with standing room for another fifty or so. While the seats were reserved for peers of the realm, King Daniel had agreed that invitations for the standing spaces should be allotted to ordinary folk and determined by lottery.

One had gone to Benoit Vallon. No doubt he would have preferred a seat in one of the boxes, but my influence extended only so far.

Forty-nine would be drawn from a great urn in Elua’s Square.

Notices had been posted on broadsheets about the City. The day dawned bright and cold, cold enough that one’s breath frosted the air, but the cold did nothing to deter D’Angelines eager for a spectacle. By mid-day when the lots were to be drawn, Elua’s Square was filled with a throng of people.

Young Princess Desirée had begged to be allowed to attend, but the King had refused, citing the difficulty of protecting a small child amidst a crowd. Gazing at the throng, I had to agree.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Beneath the leafless crown of Elua’s Oak where a dais had been erected, Bao nudged me. He cut a striking figure in his black-and-white magpie coat.

I smiled. “Aye, it is.”

Tradesmen, shopkeepers, and housewives called out good-natured pleas for a chance at the lottery, promising all manner of extravagant bribes. The squadron of royal guardsmen dispatched to maintain order attempted to shout them down in an equally good-natured manner, keeping rough track of who had arrived first, thus deserving the first crack at the lottery.