Naamah's Blessing

engineers, had never ventured out to sea. Of a surety, they were comfortable on lakes and rivers. Mayhap it was because the vastness was so very daunting that unlike our explorers, they had no cause to suspect there was aught on the far side of the enormous oceans. And I wondered, too, how much that would change in ages to come.
    I hoped that we might learn from one another, sharing the best our disparate cultures had to offer.
    I hoped that dreams might outweigh ambitions.
    Prince Thierry was introspective on the journey, and I daresay many of the same matters occupied his thoughts—not to mention the conflict to come. From time to time, he summoned me to speak with him, plying me for details of House Barthelme’s machinations. I told him everything I knew, including my own futile efforts to thwart them, and how it had divided the realm.
    “I’m not surprised,” he said. “Or rather, I’m surprised you found as many adherents as you did.”
    “Because I was born to the Maghuin Dhonn?” I asked.
    “That, and the chaos and scandal you left in your wake.” Thierry smiled wryly. “For all your uncanny ways, you were so young and naïve! I thought you were a fool for letting Raphael, and then Jehanne, turn your head.”
    “You were right about Raphael,” I said. “Not Jehanne.”
    “No, I suppose not,” he mused. “She changed, you know. Even after you left. It wasn’t just a matter of being more pleasant to those around her. I do believe she began to take her role as Queen seriously.” His face took on its faraway look. “I should have known how deeply her death wounded my father.”
    “You couldn’t have known how deep the wound cut,” I murmured. “It is not the sort of thing a parent shares with a child.”
    Returning from the distance, Thierry glanced at me. “What’s
she
like? My sister, Desirée. She was scarce more than a babe when I left.”
    “High-spirited and willful, and filled with a yearning for love.” I smiled with sorrow. “Or at least she was when I left. She’s the image of Jehanne, and she has her mother’s temper. They’ll seek to use it against her, to convince her that she’s unlovable because of it. That she bears a burden of guilt for every loss House Courcel has suffered. She’s vulnerable to it.”
    “You seem very sure of this,” he said.
    I nodded. “I am.”
    Thierry propped his arms on the ship’s railing, gazing out at the endless sea. “I’d like to see it for myself,” he said. “I’d like to see House Barthelme tip their hand before I reveal mine. If we arrive covered in glory, they’ll have time to prepare their lies, and if my sister was mistreated, it will be a child’s word against theirs.”
    “Denis de Toluard managed to keep word of your presumed death silent until he reached the City of Elua,” I said. “He honored his promise to you, that your father might hear it firsthand and not through cruel rumor. It can be done.”
    “I want somewhat more.” Thierry gave me another glance. “I want to see for myself how they treat Desirée in my absence without allowing them the chance to dissemble. Your magic could accomplish that, couldn’t it?”
    I gazed at him, seeing the lines of maturity etched on his face, lending it a strength of purpose he’d never had before. “You’d have them believe you dead?”
    “I would.” His voice was grim.
    I looked away. “Aye, I can conceal us in the twilight. Beneath its cloak, you could walk unseen into the Palace itself. But it will cause a great deal of unnecessary pain, especially to the child.”
    “Only for a short time.” Reaching out, Thierry covered my hand with his on the railing. “If I can see the damage that was done to her, I will know better how to undo it,” he said, his tone turning gentle. “Moirin, I do not think you would have become Desirée’s oath-swornprotector if you had not come to love her. I hear it in your voice when you speak of her. I would wish to do the same, and give her the love for which she yearns.”
    “Do you believe you can?” I asked him, summoning an uncertain smile. “You and Jehanne had a… prickly relationship.”
    Thierry laughed. “So we did, for many reasons. But that had changed, too. I came to accept that in her own way, she did love my father—and he her. She made him happy, and he was seldom a happy man.” His expression sobered. “I told you, I will not repeat his mistakes, Moirin. We are orphans alike, my sister and I. I