Naamah's Blessing

you.
Pampachayuway
. I am sorry.”
    She gave me a timid look beneath long lashes.
“Mana?”
    “No,” I agreed. “No trouble.”
    Freeing her hands from mine, Cusi laid one soft, warm palm against my cheek. “I speak little D’Angeline,” she said slowly, her eyes gazing intently into mine. “You eat and sleep. Lord Pachacuti said to. He is a god, yes?”
    I did not answer.
    Her dark eyes widened. “
Arí
? Yes?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    Clearly disturbed by my heresy, Cusi sucked in a long, deep breath, glancing around the bedchamber. “Eat,” she said firmly, reverting to Quechua and miming actions to suit her words. “Drink. Sleep. Grow strong.”
    Too weary to argue, I obeyed. With the sun fading in the west, Ibathed in the man-made waterfall, then donned clean attire and ate the food that Cusi brought: roasted fowl,
maize
flatbread, and an array of fresh fruits. My body accepted the gift of food with gratitude, and despite the menacing presence of the writhing ball of ants hanging in my bedchamber, I succumbed to exhaustion and slept.
    Slept—and dreamed.
    This time, I caught the heady fragrance of Jehanne’s perfume before I saw her; and this time, the dream did not take place in the enchanted bower she’d had made for me, but in another room I’d once known well: Raphael de Mereliot’s bedchamber. Glancing around, I found Jehanne standing on the balcony, gazing out at the garden.
    Jehanne turned around, and there were tears streaking her exquisite face. “I wanted to remember him the way he was.”
    “You didn’t know?” I asked softly.
    She shook her head. “Not until now.”
    I joined her on the balcony. With a soft sigh, Jehanne rested her head on my shoulder. I put my arms around her, holding her close, breathing in her scent. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
    “I just didn’t expect it to be so awful,” Jehanne said at length.
    “Nor did I,” I murmured.
    She turned in my arms, searching my face with her starry gaze. “What will you do?”
    “I wish I knew,” I admitted. “Break my oath if I must. Do you have no counsel for me, my lady? You said I would have need of you before the end.”
    Jehanne frowned in thought. “The end isn’t upon us yet. But I do think Raphael made one mistake. He shouldn’t have given you the girl.”
    “I don’t
want
the girl,” I said. “And I suspect she’s meant to keep watch over me and report to him.”
    “Yes, of course,” Jehanne agreed. “But you’ve a way with women that Raphael underestimates.” She laughed at my expression. “I don’t mean for you to seduce the poor child, Moirin!” She kissed my lips, tender and lingering. “Win her trust. It’s what you do best.”
    “Aye?”
    She nodded. “You won mine, and that was no easy feat. In many ways, it is very much a man’s world. Too many women regard one another as competitors, and too many men regard women as nothing more than useful tools.”
    My skin prickled. “The fallen spirit Focalor called me as much,” I said. “He said I was nothing more than a useful tool for other hands to wield.”
    Jehanne’s face was enigmatic. “I know.”
    Letting go of Jehanne, I paced the narrow balcony, thinking aloud. “Raphael spoke of blood sacrifice. He was talking about these women, the Maidens of the Sun. They’re the key, aren’t they? Somehow, I need to turn them against him. Is that what you’re telling me?”
    Jehanne was silent.
    “Have you said as much as the gods allow?” I asked ruefully.
    “Not entirely.” She gave me a deep look. “I may say that I do not blame you for my death, my beautiful girl, and nor should you. Both of us know that a far greater fate hung in the balance. And I will tell you not to hold yourself wholly to blame for what Raphael became. I knew there was tremendous passion and ambition in him. It is a part of what drew me to him; but I was selfish, too. I fed his hunger without ever truly slaking it.”
    “You loved well and truly, my lady,” I said. “It is all Blessed Elua asks of us.”
    She gave a graceful shrug. “And yet if I had given Raphael de Mereliot the whole of my heart, he might have been content.”
    “Or not,” I said.
    “Or not,” Jehanne agreed. “If I had given my husband, Daniel, the whole of my heart, he might not have succumbed to despair. Such things are never given us to know.” She smiled at me with profound and abiding affection tempered by a hard-won understanding I could not yet