Naamah's Blessing

the hardest heart of stone.”
    She nodded. “Yes.”
    I looked northward. “I thought of those words in a country far, far away. In Vralia, where I was held captive in chains that bound my magic, by a man whose beliefs were as rigid as stone. I tried and tried to tell him truths his faith would not allow him to hear. I would have paid any price to succeed.”
    It piqued her poet’s ear. “I would hear that story.”
    “It’s a terrible story,” Bao muttered. “I hate that story.”
    I ignored him. “I will tell it to you if you like; that, and others, too. And I will grant you my forgiveness… for a price.”
    Lianne Tremaine smiled wryly. “You’re not exactly the naïve backwoods soul you were, are you?”
    “His majesty Daniel de la Courcel means to appoint me his daughter Desirée’s oath-sworn protector,” I informed her.
    Her lips parted. “That’s… awkward.”
    “It is,” I agreed. “It will be unpopular in certain circles. But I have accepted the offer for the child’s sake.”
    There was a shrewd look on her face. “You want my aid.”
    “I do.”
    “It’s a good story.” Lianne drummed her fingertips against the arms of her chair. “A story that gets to the heart of all that Terre d’Ange holds sacred. A love-match, an unlikely love-match… no, not one. Two, three… ah, Elua! You’re a descendant of Ysandre de la Courcel and Drustan mab Necthana. Alais the Wise and her Dalriadan harper-boy. Then there is your mother’s liaison with a Priest of Naamah. It may not have been a love-match, but it was certainly unprecedented.” There was compassion in her gaze as it settled on me. “And you and Jehanne de la Courcel—the courtesan queen and her unlikely companion.” She paused. “You did love her, didn’t you?”
    My throat tightened. “Stone and sea! Aye, I did.”
    She met my gaze evenly. “I can work with this.”
    “
Will
you?” I asked.
    “Yes.” Lianne’s expression was candid. “Have I not made myself clear, Moirin? I crossed the will of the gods, and I have paid a price for it. I do but seek to regain their favor.”
    “This is not only a means of redemption,” Bao warned her. “A child’s happiness is at stake. She should not suffer for the cause of politics.”
    She gave him a brisk nod. “That is exactly what I shall seek to ensure.”

ELEVEN

    I t was a good meeting, and we parted on good terms, with a promise of more meetings to come. I wanted to speak further with her about the Circle of Shalomon, and most especially about Raphael de Mereliot in the aftermath of the fatal summoning and his near-possession by the spirit Focalor, but there was time. We had the long winter months ahead of us before the Dauphin’s expedition returned in the spring, and the matter of the Montrèvan Oath was more pressing.
    One of Eglantine House’s young attendants was waiting for us at the foot of the stair.
    “Lady Moirin, Messire Bao.” She curtsied. “Messire Antoine asks if you would like to watch the tumblers at practice.”
    “I suspect we would,” I said, glancing at Bao.
    “We would,” he confirmed.
    She escorted us through the halls of Eglantine House. It seemed a joyful establishment, filled with music and laughter. We passed a salon where a group of patrons and adepts were engaged in a game of poetic word-play, each seeking to outdo the other in extending a clever metaphor.
    “This
is
a… a place of whores, is it not?” Bao asked me in a low voice.
    Not so low that the attendant did not hear him. “Oh yes, Messire Bao!” She glanced over her shoulder. “Like all of the Houses of theNight Court, Eglantine House is dedicated to Naamah’s Service. But we celebrate all the arts, not only the arts of pleasure.”
    “Forgive me,” he said to her. “I did not mean to use an impolite term. I am still learning your tongue.”
    “You speak it very well, messire,” she assured him.
    Bao switched to the scholar’s tongue of Shuntian. “Do they begin so young, Moirin? That one cannot be more than twelve.”
    “No.” I replied in the same language. “Only as attendants. They are not allowed to take their vows until they are sixteen.”
    He looked relieved. “I am pleased to hear it.”
    “Were you thinking of the past?” I asked.
    Bao nodded. “It has been a long time since I have seen tumblers perform. Just the thought stirs memories.”
    I touched his arm. “We don’t have to do this.”
    “No.” He shook his head. “It has