Naamah's Blessing

fitting.”
    In short order, the gown was rendered suitable for wearing. Desirée suffered herself to be dressed with a dignified patience that was new to her, and a coronet of white rose-buds was woven into her hair.
    There was an escort of royal guardsmen awaiting us under the command of Brice de Bretel. I had always liked the steady-naturedyoung L’Agnacite lord, who had been a loyal and reliable companion on our journey. I was pleased by his appointment, and pleased to see the unassuming deference with which he treated the little Dauphine.
    Jehanne would have been pleased, too, I thought.
    We rode through the streets of the City of Elua in a royal carriage, surrounded by a score of outriders, Brice de Bretel and his men clad in the livery of House Courcel. Folks lined the streets, watching the spectacle.
    There was a hunger in their gazes; and a sense of waiting, too.
    I understood it.
    Stone and sea! So much sorrow had plagued House Courcel in recent generations. It was time and more for a measure of joy.
    And we received it that day in the Temple of Elua. Only a formality, Balthasar had called the coronation. In a sense, it was true. Thierry de la Courcel was the rightful heir. From the moment he had sat in the throne and claimed it for his own, he had been the undisputed ruler of the realm. But this was Terre d’Ange, and formalities mattered.
    It had been Thierry’s choice to hold the coronation in the Temple rather than the Palace, to give thanks to Blessed Elua and his Companions for sparing him, and to ask their blessing on his reign.
    We stood barefoot and bare-headed beneath the sun, the grass damp underfoot and the wind rustling through the oak trees while the Priest of Elua gave the invocation. I gazed at the tall marble effigy of Elua in his roofless altar, flanked by marble columns. He smiled his enigmatic smile, one hand extended in offering, the other hand, the hand he had scored with Camael’s dagger, cupped.
    Blessed Elua had shed his own blood in answer to the One God’s messenger, summoning all the ancient power of the Earth, the very womb in which he was nurtured. I understood better the gravity of that gesture now. It symbolized his willingness to die for his people.
    But Elua was not mortal and he had not died. He had passed
beyond
, taking his Companions with him to the Terre d’Ange-that-lies-beyond.
    I could not help but think of my final conversation with Jehanne, and wonder what lay beyond the beyond.
    First and always, I was a child of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. I had passed through the stone doorway, and I had seen Her in all Her majesty. Once I would have been content with an eternity in Her presence.
    Now I was not so sure. I had seen so very much of the world, and I had come to love so many people in it. I prayed that the tale I’d spun Jehanne was a true one, and there was a final
beyond
far greater than our comprehension, one in which everyone and everything was a part of a greater whole.
    Bao nudged me. “Moirin.”
    I startled. “Hmm?”
    “You looked like you were a thousand leagues away,” he murmured.
    “I was.”
    Prince Thierry was kneeling before the altar. One by one, a priest or priestess of each of the Orders of the Companions came forward to offer their blessing, laying their hands on his shoulders, leaning down to offer him a kiss. Although he was not the most senior in the priesthood, my father had been chosen to represent Naamah’s Order, and it made my throat tighten with pride and love to see it.
    Each of their blessings, Thierry accepted with grace and humility. And then the Priest of Elua approached him, carrying a golden crown with points wrought in the shape of oak-leaves.
    “Thierry de la Courcel,” the priest said in a resonant voice. “Rightwise-born heir to the throne of Terre d’Ange, do you accept the trust of ruling this nation? Do you pledge yourself to uphold her laws and the sacred tenets each and every one of us hold dear? Do you swear to honor the precept of Blessed Elua in all that you do?”
    Thierry lifted his head. “I do.”
    The priest met his gaze. “Then in the name of Blessed Elua and his Companions, it is my honor to acknowledge you the rightfully crowned King of Terre d’Ange.” He set the golden oak-leaf crown onThierry’s head, the weight of it pinning his dark locks in place. “May Blessed Elua hold and keep you.”
    Thierry rose.
    It was heavy, that crown. I could see it in the careful way he carried the