Naamah's Blessing

father’s face was as bright as sunlight, all the strain of worry erased from his features. I found myself laughing through tears as I embraced him.
    “You did it,” he murmured in my ear. “I should never have doubted you, my strange daughter.”
    “Oh…” I wiped away my tears. “I don’t know about that.”
    “Messire Bao.” My father turned to Bao, clasping his hand. The two of them grinned at one another. “Well done.”
    “Were you able to find my mother in Alba?” I asked anxiously. “Were you able to deliver my letter to her?”
    My father nodded. “I read it to her myself. She said to tell you that she loves you, and that when you come home in your own time, to call her name on the western winds and bid her meet you wherever you are bound, and she will hear.” He looked a bit bemused. “Do you suppose she meant it?”
    I laughed. “It’s quite possible. I suspect there’s a lot I have yet to learn about my own people.”
    “You’ll not go just yet, will you?” he asked.
    “No,” I promised. “Not yet. At the least, we’ll stay for the official coronation ceremony.”
    Bao wrinkled his nose. “I’m not going
anywhere
without a hot bath first.”
    “Spoken like a true D’Angeline.” My father smiled. “I’ll leave you to rest and refresh yourselves, and trouble you for your tale on the morrow. ’Tis enough to know for now that you’re alive and well.”
    A royal carriage arrived to convey us to the little house on the outskirts of town that had once belonged to House Shahrizai’s most infamous scion, a house that Balthasar had assured us aboard the ship would be deeded to Bao and me in perpetuity upon our return. It seemed like it was a lifetime ago that he first proposed over a frothing goblet of
chocolatl
that we might benefit from the mutual alignment of our interests.
    Our progress through the City of Elua was slow, hampered by the throngs of people spilling into the streets, pressing close to the carriage to call out grateful blessings. The news had spread swiftly. They must have stripped the stalls of every flower vendor in the city, for spring blossoms showered down upon us, filling the moist air with fragrance.
    It was beautiful and wonderful, but I could not help but think of the blossoms piled in the laps of the Quechua ancestors, too. Catching my eye, Bao smiled quietly, and I knew he shared my thoughts.
    There were shadows that would ever be with us.
    If it seemed a lifetime ago that we had first taken up residence in the Shahrizai domicile, as far as the impeccable household staff was concerned, it might have been yesterday. After all the emotion and high drama, I was grateful for the steward Guillaume Norbert’s calm, dignified greeting.
    “Lady Moirin, Messire Bao.” He proffered a deep bow, only a hint of a gleam in his eye betraying his pride and gladness at our return. “Welcome home.”
    I summoned a weary smile. “My thanks, Messire Norbert.”
    Home.
    It had become true; not the whole truth, but true nonetheless. I was Naamah’s child as surely as I was a child of the Maghuin Dhonn,and the City of Elua was home to me. A part of my heart would always abide here. Here in the city where I had found my lovely father, where I had committed the worst of my youthful folly, and stumbled unwittingly through my first steps toward patience and wisdom, finding the beginnings of the profound grace that existed in Naamah’s blessing.
    A faint sigh escaped me.
    Bao touched my arm. “Moirin?”
    “Aye,” I said to him. “All’s well. I’m bone-tired, that’s all. It’s been a long, long journey.”
    His mouth quirked. “You have a considerable gift for understatement, my wife. But I think we can rest now. At least until tomorrow,” he added.
    Bao was right.
    Bathed and fed and pampered by the discreet household staff, both of us fell into the great bed with its crisp, clean linens scented with lavender-water and slept like the dead for long hours.
    We awoke restored and refreshed to the dawn of a new era in Terre d’Ange. There were dozens of calling cards for us, as well as a summons from Prince Thierry to an audience in the Salon of Eisheth’s Harp, and a message from my father that he would meet us there.
    We went early to the Palace that we might pay a visit to Desirée, whom we found in high spirits.
    “My brother Thierry came to visit me before I went to sleep last night!” she announced, her eyes wide with wonder and disbelief. “He sang