There was another exchange.
"Many months at sea," Master Lo said. "They came by one of the greatships and only rode from your city of Marsilikos." Even he looked impressed. "None has ever travelled so far before. Truly, they carried wind in a bag."
"What do they want?" the King inquired.
Master Lo Feng spoke to the general and listened to his lengthy reply, his face growing ever more grave. My chest grew tight and I felt a strange pressure and ringing in my ears. The sense of the Maghuin Dhonn's presence was back and the spark of my diadh-anam was quickening inside me. All too well, I remembered the sea shining through the stone doorway and the infinite compassion in Her eyes. And I remembered what I had said to Her.
I have a very long way to go, don't I?
"No," I whispered. "Not yet, please!"
"How you know what they say?" Bao asked irritably. "I can't even hear!"
I shivered. "I don't."
General Tsieh stopped speaking. He and Master Lo exchanged bows; then Master Lo turned in the saddle and bowed to King Daniel. "The Emperor's daughter is very ill. I am summoned home to tend to her."
The King hesitated. "You're free to go as you please, of course. We are grateful for the wisdom you've shared. But forgive me….. if they were many months at sea, surely it will be far too late for you to be of assistance."
"No," Master Lo Feng said with regret. "I fear it is no mortal illness. If she has not been slain, she lives. Bao and I will leave on the morrow." He conferred with the general again. The latter shook his head violently several times, glancing in my direction. Master Lo shrugged and folded his hands in his sleeves, looking calm and implacable. The general sighed and gave an abrupt bow in acquiescence.
I wanted to look away and couldn't.
"Moirin, my student." Master Lo's gaze settled on me. "If you are willing, I would very much like you to accompany us."
My diadh-anam blazed wildly in my breast. My ears rang with a sound like trumpets, the sound of destiny calling me.
I was tired, so tired.
I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay; I wanted my bed and my bower. I didn't want to cross untold oceans and venture to a stranger land than this one. I wanted the refuge I'd found as the Queen's royal companion, to continue to smooth the sharp edges of Jehanne's prickly temper and delight in her abundant passions. I wanted to spend time with my father, so recently found and so nearly lost to me. I closed my eyes and prayed to the gods of Terre d'Ange I knew best, begging them to let me stay—but Naamah turned her bright face away. Anael bowed his head over his cupped hands, showing me a bulb with a single shoot, a Camaeline snowdrop.
Their will accorded with Hers.
I was meant to go.
I rubbed my stinging eyes. "Aye, Master Lo. I'll go."
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
The worst part was telling Jehanne.
She knew something was amiss. She was there to receive us at the Palace, Prince Thierry at her side, unexpectedly attentive, her entourage around her. She kissed her royal husband with glad relief, and me no less gladly, her lips lingering on mine.
"My poor girl," she murmured in my ear. "You should have written me sooner. I'd have made him release you."
I shivered. "I didn't think of it."
Jehanne pulled away from me. "It is over, isn't it? This business with Raphael?"
"Aye," I said miserably. "But—"
A shadow crossed her face. She put two fingers over my lips. "Whatever it is, don't speak of it now. Tell me later. Alone."
Tired though I was, I kept my word and met with King Daniel. In the privacy of his study, I told him everything I knew about the Circle of Shalomon, every detail of the summonings we had attempted. He listened gravely, asking questions and taking notes, then dismissed me when I was finished at last.
"Moirin." He called me back as I went to leave. "I heard your answer to Master Lo Feng. Is there aught I can say to change your mind?"
I touched my chest. "Can you silence my destiny?"
"Would that I could." He studied me. "You're sure?"
I nodded. "Would that I weren't. I don't want to leave, your majesty. But I'm very, very sure."
The King sighed. "Blessed Elua hold and keep you. Go."
When I returned to my quarters, I found Jehanne there waiting for me. And alone in the bower she'd had created for me, I told her.
Jehanne slapped me hard across the face, hard enough to wrench my head sideways. And then she crumpled to the floor at my feet, weeping as though her heart were breaking.
I felt as though mine were.
"I'm sorry!" I cradled her head in my lap, wrapping my arms around her. I felt awful and there was nothing I could say to make it better, no words of comfort I could speak. All I could do was hold her until the worst of the storm had passed. "I'm so very sorry. Jehanne, I don't want to leave you. I don't."
She sniffled. "But you are."
"Yes," I said softly.
She grew still and quiet in my arms. "I knew. I always knew you would. I just didn't think it would be so soon, Moirin."
"Neither did I."
A fresh bout of weeping shook her. "I thought you'd stay at least until the child was born!"
I closed my eyes, hot tears leaking beneath my lids. "So did I. I'm sorry!"
"I know," Jehanne murmured when she could talk again. She gave a sad, lost laugh. "At least as an adept of Cereus House, I'm taught to revere the transient nature of beauty. This was a fleeting and precious thing."
I stroked her hair. "You'll take another companion now that you know it suits you."
"Oh, please!" It was a relief to hear a cross edge to her voice. "Will you insult my intelligence? Surely it hasn't escaped your notice that there isn't anyone else like you in the world."
"No." I kissed her tear-damp cheek. "But you don't need a half-breed Maghuin Dhonn witch to serve as your companion. You just need someone you like well enough to trust." I smiled despite my aching heart. "Some gorgeous young creature from the backwoods with a generous soul, a good deal of patience, and buckets of untutored ardor." At that, Jehanne smiled a little, too. "You'd like the lass who tended my father," I told her. "The woodcutter's daughter, Sophie. Kind and sweet, very beautiful, and very, very untutored."
"Oh?" She peered up at me.
"Aye." A sharp pang of jealousy shot through me at the thought of the woodcutter's daughter in Jehanne's arms. "You needn't look that interested."
"I'm not." She sat upright. "Oh, Moirin! It's not that easy to trust anew."
"You gave me your trust willingly enough," I reminded her.
Jehanne took my hand, twining her fingers with mine. "There was already a bond of trust between us. You took a considerable leap of faith when you let me rescue you. It made it easier to return the favor." She paused and searched my face, her blue-grey eyes earnest and vulnerable and as bright as stars. "Do you love me at least a little bit?"
I couldn't help it; I laughed. And I wept, too. "Do you truly have to ask? Yes, Jehanne, a thousand times, yes. You're absurdly beautiful, utterly infuriating, and inexplicably charming, and I love you far, far more than you deserve."
"Good." She put her arms around my neck, smiling at me through her tears. "Tell me more, please."
I did.
I pulled her close and kissed her over and over, and I told her everything I loved about her—decent and indecent.
And this, too, felt like a benediction.
Naamah had turned her face away when I begged her to let me stay. Now that I had accepted my fate, she turned it back to me for a fleeting moment in time.
To us.
Whatever else was true, Naamah's blessing was on this union. Desire rose like a tide in my blood, driving out weariness and hunger, overriding sorrow, holding even destiny at bay. An answering passion rose in Jehanne—Naamah's gift, rising in a golden spiral, entwining with mine. At some point, I helped her rise from the floor, tugging her hand and urging her into bed, unlacing her stays and stripping off her gown and underclothes. Beneath the hanging fronds, Jehanne kissed me fervently, her tongue urgent in my mouth.
"This," I whispered. "This, and this, and this, I love."
This was her breasts, grown larger with the babe in her womb, a faint tracery of blue veins showing beneath her translucent skin. I suckled at her breasts, drawing on her rose-pink nipples, never wanting to stop.
This was the sweet juncture of her thighs, between which I was happy to lose myself, coaxing creamy nectar from her cleft. I licked and drank deep of her. Jehanne clung to me, abandoning her arts for raw passion. I reveled in her hands clutching my head, tangling in my hair.
"This!" she said fiercely, tugging me upward. "Yes!"
That, too.
I let her do what she wished, let her take me and have me, surrendering to her insistent fingers probing inside me, her lips and tongue lashing me to new heights, until I arched my back and came so very, very hard for her. And it was good—stone and sea, so good! I wished it would never, ever end.
But it did.
"Moirin." Her voice was low. "I have to go."
I struggled to sit upright. "Please, my lady! I don't want to be alone. Can you not stay this last one night with me?"
"No." Jehanne gazed at me, a world of sorrow in her blue-grey eyes. "Raphael was right about one thing."
"What?" I asked.
She kissed me. "It hurts too much to stay."
I helped her wash and dress, then watched her go. I wanted to beg her to stay, but I didn't. Jehanne had been fair. She hadn't begged me not to leave her. Unlikely as it seemed, she'd given me her trust and her passion and her aid unstintingly. I didn't have any right to make this more difficult for her.
Still, it hurt.
When the door closed behind her, I felt alone and bereft. It was almost a mercy when the profound weariness that Naamah's blessing had driven away came crashing back upon me. I thought briefly that I should send for a dinner tray, but I was too tired to eat. And I thought with a twinge of guilt that I should have gone to see my father instead of spending long hours wallowing in pleasure, but I pushed the thought away. He would understand better than anyone else. I would see him on the morrow. I damned well wasn't leaving without saying farewell to him. The Emperor's daughter in faraway Ch'in had waited many long months. She could wait a few more hours.
I wished I could see my mother, too.
The thought brought tears to my eyes and made me feel sorry for myself. I blew out the lamps, curled up in my lonely bed, and wept myself to sleep.
In the morning, it all seemed unreal. Only a day ago, I'd been preparing to fulfill my oath to Raphael, penning a desperate letter to Jehanne. The misbegotten summoning of Focalor, Claire Fourcay's death, my near-death….. events of such magnitude should have cast a shadow over my life for a long, long time. Instead, my world had been turned upside down.
And unreal as it seemed, there was proof awaiting in the form of a message from Master Lo Feng bidding me to join them at the City's southern gate at noon. I sent a polite reply saying I would be there as soon as possible and began to get my affairs in order.
There wasn't that much to be done. Jehanne had given the Palace staff orders to assist me in any way I required. I recruited a maidservant to find traveling trunks and pack my clothing. There wasn't much . else. A few pieces of jewelry, including my mother's signet ring. Some cosmetics. My bow and quiver, my letters of introduction from Bryony Associates in Bryn Gorrydum.
That seemed a long time ago.
I'd arrived in the City of Elua with little else, a ragtag creature from the backwoods of Alba with a small gift for magic and a purse quickly stolen. I was leaving as the Queen's royal companion and….. what?
Master Lo Feng's student?
A budding magician of a greater magnitude than I knew?
Or just a useful tool?
I didn't know; and truth be told, I was too exhausted to wonder. I forced myself to keep moving. I went to the banking house and withdrew a portion of the remaining funds from my letter of credit, reckoning I might need them.
And then I went to the Temple of Naamah.
My father was waiting for me. He already knew. I should have guessed it, knowing the way the City thrived on gossip. The King's guards had heard me give my answer to Master Lo Feng. They'd kept their silence for a while; I daresay no one wanted to be the one to break the news to Jehanne. But once I'd told her myself, tongues had begun to wag.
"Ah, Moirin, child." My father held me and let me cry on his shoulder, tears dampening his crimson robe. I'd done the same thing when first I'd met him, overwhelmed by conflicting desires, tangled relationships, and my own folly, alone and friendless in a strange land, distraught by Jehanne's unkind toying. Even though he was a stranger to me, I'd taken comfort in his embrace.
It was a piece of irony that I wept now because he was dear to me, and Jehanne was dear to me, and I didn't want to leave.
My father lifted my chin and asked me the same question the King had asked. "You're sure?"
I got myself under control. "Aye."
He kissed my brow. "Naamah's blessing on you, love. I'll pray for your safety every day and hope for your return." He paused. "You will return?"
"I don't know." My voice was small. "I don't even know why I'm going. I only know I have to."