Naamah's Blessing

know,” he admitted. “We just do.”
    Watching them, I couldn’t help but smile. Desirée’s tutor rose, her expression caught somewhere between respect and defiance.
    “Lady Moirin, I believe?” She made a reluctant curtsy, bobbing her head. “I’d heard you’d taken an interest in the child.”
    “So I have,” I said calmly.
    “She’s bright, very bright.” Her chin rose. “I’ll not apologize for teaching her beyond her years.”
    “Nor should you,” I agreed. “What’s your name?”
    “Aimée Girard.”
    A thought came to me as I watched Desirée earnestly teaching the alphabet to Bao. “Do you suppose you might take on a second pupil, my lady?”
    “You’re serious?”
    I nodded. “Bao, what do you think of the notion?”
    He glanced up. “I think I would like to read the names written on these calling cards we are receiving.” A grin crossed his face. “Not to mention what is written in the very interesting books in the temple’s library.”
    Aimée Girard flushed. “Ah… well. You understand we will be reading only very, very simple texts?”
    “Yes, of course.” With one finger, Bao pushed blocks around on the slate. “Would you like me to study with you, your highness?”
    Desirée’s expression was dubious. “You’re
not
mocking?”
    “No.” His voice was solemn. “I promise.”
    “Then I would like it very much,” she said decisively. “Can Bao stay, mademoiselle?”
    “Will you be on your best behavior if I say yes?” her tutor inquired. The child nodded vigorously. “Very well, then.” She smiled. “Messire Bao, it seems we have an arrangement.”
    I smiled, too. “Then I will leave you to it, and return in a while.”
    Desirée rose and gave me an unexpected hug, her small arms tight around my legs. “Thank you for coming,” she said in a muffled tone, loosing me as unexpectedly as she’d embraced me. “And for bringing Bao.”
    “Of course, dear heart.” I bowed to her in the Bhodistani manner.
    With a giggle, she returned the bow, and then sat back down onher little chair, arranging her hands in a contemplative
mudra
. “See! I remember.”
    “So you do!” I clapped. “Very well done, your highness.”
    The nursemaid Nathalie escorted me to the door, every line of her body expressing disapproval. “Do you imagine his majesty will be pleased to hear you’re teaching the child heathen prayers, and now setting strange foreigners to study with her?” she asked in a low voice.
    “I imagine he’ll be pleased to know his royal daughter is learning about other cultures,” I said evenly. “Ancient, venerable cultures. And I would thank you not to speak of my husband as a strange foreigner.”
    “It’s unsuitable!” Her face hardened. “He made a jest about reading texts from the Temple of Naamah in her very presence!”
    “That was ill advised,” I agreed. “But it was a jest the child is too young to grasp. I’ll speak to him about it.”
    It didn’t placate her. With a look of unmitigated disgust, she flung the nursery door open, startling a young page in House Courcel’s blue livery, who was lounging in the hallway.
    “Lady Moirin!” He sketched a hasty bow as I exited the nursery. “Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you so soon. His majesty wishes to see you.”
    “By all means,” I agreed. Nathalie sniffed and closed the door firmly behind me. Eyeing the closed door, I hoped very much that the King’s summons boded good rather than ill.
    King Daniel de la Courcel was in the Hall of Portraits. Approaching, I would have expected to find him contemplating Jehanne’s portrait, or the portrait of his first wife, Seraphine, whom he had also loved deeply. To my surprise, I was wrong. The page coughed discreetly to announce our arrival, and the King shifted slightly to acknowledge it. For several minutes, we waited in silence, not wishing to intrude on his reverie.
    At length, he turned. “Thank you, Richard. You may go.” The page bowed and took his leave. “Do you know who she is?” his majesty asked me, indicating the portrait of a beautiful dark-haired womanwith strong brows, candid blue eyes, and a mouth that promised firmness and compassion alike.
    “Aye, my lord,” I said. Prince Thierry had taken me to see the Hall of Portraits on my first visit to the Palace. “Anielle de la Courcel. She would have been your grandmother, yes?”
    “Yes.” Daniel touched the gilded frame with reverent fingers. “She was the last