Naamah's Kiss (Moirin's Trilogy #1)

The stream of my piss rattled against the chamberpot. When I finished, I poured fresh water into the nearby basin and washed my hands and face, then I clambered back in bed.

"Moirin?" Raphael called.

"Aye?" I drew the sheets to my chin. I'd never been one for modesty, but I felt weak and vulnerable in this situation.

"Well done." He entered smiling, and to my everlasting chagrin, smelled at the pot, tilting it and studying my humors. "It looks good. Do you think you might be able to take some broth?"

I consulted my belly. The water seemed to have settled it. "I do."

He picked up a bell on a night-stand table and rang it. A manservant appeared in prompt response. When Raphael ordered him to empty the chamberpot and tell the cook to send up a bowl of simple broth, he bowed in assent.

"I don't want to trouble you, my lord," I murmured.

"It's no trouble." He sat back down on the footstool, studying me with those intent grey eyes. "But I must own, I'm curious. Surely, you've D'Angeline blood in you more recent than Alais de la Courcel's era."

"My father," I agreed.

"Truly?" Raphael raised his brows. "However would that come about?"

"Is it so hard to believe?" I asked, insulted.

"No, no." He raised his hands. "I didn't mean it thusly. It's only that I thought the Maghuin Dhonn were a….. let us say a singularly private and solitary folk."

"Say what you mean, my lord," I said with resignation. "Savage and barbaric? Sly and uncanny? Mysterious and dire?"

He touched my cheek. "Mysterious and uncanny, yes. At the moment, you don't appear particularly dire."

It drew a reluctant smile from me. "No?" I prodded the lump on the back of my skull. My hair was matted with dried blood. "To be sure, I'm feeling rather dire."

He laughed.

A maidservant arrived with a tray. She peered around Raphael with wide eyes when he went to take it from her. Despite my protests, he insisted on feeding me himself as though I were a babe too weak to hold a spoon. After the first few bites, my appetite returned and I finished almost the entire bowl. When I was done, I found myself sleepy and yawning. When I apologized to Raphael, he shook his head.

"Sleep's the best healer." He laid one hand on my brow and felt at the pulse in my wrist with the other. "You're young and strong and like to recover. Sleep, and I'll look in on you in a few hours. If you've need of aught, ring the bell and someone will come."

"All right." I settled my aching head against the pillows. As he made to draw away, I caught one of his hands and stroked it. Somewhere beneath the pain and weariness, desire waited, coiled inside me. I saw it reflected in his surprised gaze and smiled. "My lord, for all your kindness, you've not given me your name."

"Raphael," he said softly. "Raphael de Mereliot."

"Stone and sea!" I blinked. "You're the Queen's favorite courtier. The one who thinks the Academy ought to explore more than the philosophy of magic."

He stared. "How in Blessed Elua's name did you know that?" "Oh, I had a long stagecoach ride." I yawned. "And you're quite the preferred topic of gossip, my lord—you and her majesty."

"Are we, now?" Raphael de Mereliot's tone was dry. He stood and gazed at me, his expression unreadable. "Wait until they get wind of you, Moirin mac Fainche."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I slept for most of my first full day in Raphael de Mereliot's home. By the second day, I felt much better. My ribs ached and the lump on my skull was tender, but the dizziness and nausea had passed and I felt stronger. By midday, Raphael agreed that I might eat solid food and have a bath afterward.

"No vigorous scrubbing!" he warned me. He laid his hands on my ribcage. "You've got to keep still to let the tissues heal and hold the bone in its proper place."

"Aye, my lord," I said innocently. "Would you prefer to scrub me yourself?"

His grey eyes darkened, but he merely shook a finger at me. "Be a good girl and heed your physician's orders."

Stone and sea, that bath was a glorious thing! The tub was a vast marble affair with gilded feet in the shape of leaping fishes. I couldn't begin to imagine how many buckets of water it took to fill it, nor how much wood to heat the water. At the moment, I didn't much care. I only knew it was bliss to sink my aching body into its warmth.

A maidservant too shy to meet my gaze gave me a ball of soap and a soft cloth. The soap smelled of lavender and had the image of a flower impressed on it. It lathered beautifully. I washed myself all over, careful not to make any abrupt movements. When I was done, I soaked the matted blood from my hair and washed that, too. Afterward, the maidservant gave me a robe of thick satin to wear—vivid sea-blue worked with gold in a repeating pattern of two fishes, nose to tail in a circle.

"Better?" Raphael found me back in his guest-chamber, sitting on the footstool and running a comb through my wet hair.

"Oh, aye." I maneuvered the comb around the sore place. "Much. Do you know where my clothes have gone to? My own clothes? They weren't in my satchel."

He perched on the edge of the bed. "You don't care for the robe?"

I glanced down at it. "I do. But—"

"It's the crest of House Mereliot," Raphael informed me. "We're a very old house descended from Eisheth's line."

"Eisheth." I put down the comb. "She brought the healing arts, and….. music to the folk of Terre d'Ange, aye?"

"Aye," he agreed, mimicking me.

"I know, I know!" I sighed. "Only vulgar common folk say aye. My clothes?"

Raphael laughed. "Your clothes, such as they are, have been laundered and are drying. You'll have them back soon. Are you in such a hurry to leave?"

"No," I admitted. "I'd like to feel I could, that's all."

He sobered. "Of course you do. I'll have them sent up straightaway. But, Moirin….." He hesitated. "You're a descendant of House Courcel. You can't run about the City clad in threadbare rags."

"Yes, my lord," I said dryly. "That, too, has been made abundantly clear to me."

Raphael ignored my tone. "Forgive me for prying, but I noted you'd a letter of commendation for a couturier at Atelier Favrielle in your things. With your permission, I'd be pleased to contact them on your behalf."

"You don't think they would refuse me?" I asked.

"No." His mouth quirked. "I don't."

I cocked my head at him. "Would it please you?"

He gave me a long look that made me shiver inside and answered in a low voice. "To see your beauty clad in a manner befitting it? It would please anyone in their right mind."

I flushed. "Then I thank you for your assistance."

"May I ask what you intend in the City of Elua?" Raphael inquired."'Tis clear you'd only just arrived. Are you here to seek out your father?"

What was I to tell him? In this elegant, sunlit room, the stone doorway and the Maghuin Dhonn seemed very far away, and talk of a mysterious destiny would sound like a girl's folly. And after all, finding my father was the first step, since I hadn't the faintest idea what else to do. So I simply said, "Yes."

"What's his name?" he asked.

I sighed. "As to that, I cannot say. Only that he is a Priest of Naa-mah and he attended the coronation of Lord Tiernan of the Dalriada. But he told my mother she might ask after him at the Temple of Naa-mah here in the City that's dedicated to star-crossed lovers. Do you know it?"

"Oh, yes." Raphael nodded. "And I'll make an inquiry at Court. It ought to be easy enough to find out who was sent as a delegate to the coronation. Like as not, he or she will be able to provide a name. It's unlikely more than one of Naamah's priests was in the entourage."

I thanked him for what felt like the hundredth time. "My lord, why are you going to such trouble?" I added. The words his friend had spoken in the street came back to me. "Surely you don't extend such kindness to every and any half-breed street urchin."

He looked sideways at me. "You heard that? No, no, I don't; although I'd like to think I'd be solicitous of anyone who came to harm through my own fault, or the fault of those in my employ." Raphael frowned. "Although when you're feeling stronger, I'd like to ask you a few questions about the incident."

"Oh, it was entirely my fault," I said hastily. The memory of Theo's rejection was all too fresh in my mind. I didn't want to frighten away this beautiful man whose touch felt like sunlight. "I was careless."

"We'll see." He rose. "I'll see that your clothing is returned to you, then find out what I may learn at Court."

"Thank you," I said for the hundred and first time.

"You're welcome." Raphael hesitated. "I'll own freely, I'm putting myself out in part because you're a descendant of House Courcel and I've reason to wish to be in their good graces. But you intrigue me in your own right. A Priest of Naamah and one of the Maghuin Dhonn….." He shook his head. "What a pairing."

"You're not afraid to say it aloud," I observed.

"What's that?"

"Maghuin Dhonn," I said.

"No." He leveled a steady gaze at me. "There's a great deal that I'm not afraid of. And there's a great deal I'd like to discuss with you when you're willing."

I echoed his words back to him. "We'll see."

Raphael de Mereliot ran an efficient household. My clothing arrived very shortly after he left, clean and dry and still warm from being pressed with a hot iron. And, to be honest, quite threadbare. Still, I put on the green gown that Aislinn had given me, which was the best of the lot. I felt less of an invalid in proper attire.

I also felt stifled for the first time since Raphael had brought me here. I opened the door to my bedchamber and toyed with the idea of exploring my surroundings. My head and ribs advised against it. So instead I went onto the balcony. There was a little table and two chairs of some kind of metal filigree and it overlooked an inner courtyard with a lush garden. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The air smelled of herbs—some familiar, like comfrey and catmint, some new, like basil and rosemary and lavender. There were others I didn't know. Almost all of the plants were happy and content, although here and there I sensed a discordant note.

Tomorrow, I thought, I would explore.

How long I sat there, I couldn't say. Hours, I suppose. The balcony faced west. I watched the sky turn red and thought about home. I wondered where my mother was and if she was permitting herself to be happy with Oengus.

I hoped so.

I wondered what she would think of Raphael de Mereliot. I wondered what I thought of him.

The Queen's favorite courtier.

Her lover, by all accounts. I wondered what the good ladies Florette and Lydia would make of my presence in his home. No doubt they would be beside themselves with scandalous delight. I'd have to visit them.

Sunset turned to dusk. Twilight rose from the garden beneath me, hundreds of herbs and shrubs exhaling wistfully at the passing of the sun. It was profoundly comforting. I drew the essence of the D'Angeline twilight deep into my lungs and breathed it out, letting it surround me like a cloud.

"Moirin?"

Alarmed, I let it go and rose with alacrity.

Raphael stood just beyond the open balcony doors, staring at me with parted lips. "You were….. sparkling."

"Oh?" I said weakly. "Was I?"

"You were. I called your name at the door," he added. "You didn't answer."

"I was thinking."

He fixed me with his intent gaze. "And sparkling."

I sighed. "It's because you were watching, my lord. And because I was careless once more and didn't hear you or sense your presence. Tame places do that to me. If you hadn't already been watching, you wouldn't have seen me."

"Like Nevil," he said.

"Nevil?" I repeated.

"My driver." Raphael's gaze was unflinching. "He swears the street where we struck you was empty. And I have never, ever known him to lie. He didn't, did he?"

"No," I murmured. "He did not. Tell me, my lord, have I surpassed the limit of strangeness any man might be expected to endure?"

"Not even close, Moirin of the Maghuin Dhonn." With an unexpectedly wolfish grin, Raphael reached me in a few swift strides. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, warmth radiating from his hands. It felt glorious. Our tongues and our gifts entangled, healing and desire intertwined in an intricate dance. He lifted his head, grey eyes gleaming. "Ah, Elua! Not even close, my lady. I like your strangeness."

I felt dizzy. "Why?"

Raphael stroked the line of my jaw with his thumbs. "Do you feel well enough to dine with me?"

"I do."

He let go my face and extended his arm. "Then come, and let us talk."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"How is it done?" Raphael asked. I explained to him how one summoned the twilight, drawing it in and breathing it out. He listened intently.

"Is it a discipline of long practice?" he asked when I had finished.

"No." I shook my head. "It takes a good deal more concentration to do it in a tame place unless there's green, growing life present. Like your garden or Elua's Oak. Do you know, it remembers being planted?" I added. "I've never met a tree so old or with such self-awareness before."