Naamah's Blessing

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 chosenotherwise. 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?”
    It made me smile in the darkness, although there was sorrow in it. “Cillian’s sister.”
    Bao went still. “He was your first love?”
    Unseen, I nodded. “Aislinn was kind to me. She was the only one in her family who didn’t blame me for Cillian’s death.”
    He released his breath. “I had forgotten. No wonder it grieves you so to think to be blamed for