Naamah's Blessing

strife?” I inquired.
    She inclined her head. “It is a valid question, and one I cannot answer with certainty. The High Priestess does not believe so. She believes it would deliver a necessary reminder to Eisandine peers.”
    “How so?” Bao asked.
    Again, Gemma hesitated. “I do not wish to be presumptuous—”
    “Presume,” I said.
    “It is no secret that his majesty avoids the child,” she said softly. “That it pains him to see Queen Jehanne in her. Even young children sense such things. Surely, it has hurt the princess in turn. So if I
may
presume, I would say that his majesty’s decision to assign you a significant role in the princess’ life represents his best effort at mending the damage. You can see the mother reflected in the child, and love her for it as his majesty is unable to do. There are wounds of the spirit as grave as wounds of the flesh, and they, too, need healing. This is the reminder that Eisheth’s Order would offer the peers of the realm.”
    Bao turned to me. “Hire her.”
    I ignored him for the moment. “How can you be sure?” I asked the priestess. “I might be seeking the role for political purposes.”
    “You, Lady Moirin?” Gemma laughed, but nicely. “No, I do not think so. Nor do I think you would be going to such trouble on her highness’ behalf if you did not care for her.”
    A smile tugged at my lips. “Would you like to meet her?”
    “It would be my honor.”
    We found Desirée fitful and restless, having refused her afternoon nap; and the nursemaid Paulette near tears.
    Within a quarter of an hour, the young princess was half-asleep in the priestess’ lap, her head nodding while Gemma sang low, rhythmic songs to her in a remarkably soothing voice.
    “Elua have mercy!” Paulette breathed. “ ’Tis a miracle.”
    “No miracle.” The priestess smiled. “Music is Eisheth’s other gift to mankind, and there’s healing in it, too.”
    “Do you truly desire the post, my lady priestess?” I asked her.
    Gemma stroked Desirée’s flaxen hair, trailed one fingertip over the curve of the child’s fair cheek, touched the perfect bow of her pink, parted lips. As her gaze lifted to meet mine, I fought a surge of irrational jealousy. “I do, my lady Moirin.”
    I bowed to her. “It is yours.”

SIXTEEN

    A lmost immediately, Desirée flourished under Sister Gemma’s care. She became calmer, happier, eager to please for the sake of the pleasure that came of behaving kindly toward others.
    I was glad.
    And a little bit jealous, still.
    “It’s for the best,” Bao consoled me, his arms wrapped around me. “You do know that, don’t you, Moirin?”
    “Of course I do.”
    His arms tightened. “We’ll have babes of our own one day,” he predicted. “Remember? I told you so a long time ago.”
    I laughed and kissed him. “Aye, I do. Fat, happy babies.”
    “Exactly.”
    The tides of public opinion continued to sway back and forth. For a mercy, they began to swing in our direction. The appointment of Sister Gemma, and the support of Eisheth’s Order that accompanied it, were the first stroke of good fortune.
    The second stroke came the following day, or more precisely, very early in the morning of the following day, when Bao and I were awakened by an urgent summons from one of the young acolytes in the temple.
    “Forgive me,” she apologized as we gazed sleepily at her. “But it’s Messire Benoit Vallon from Atelier Favrielle to see you, and he’s in a considerable state of irritation.”
    I yawned and tried to shake the cobwebs from my thoughts. “Oh, is he?”
    Her lips quirked. “Considerable.”
    I clambered out of bed and splashed water on my face, fumbling for clothing. “Best send him in, then.”
    Benoit Vallon swept into our bedchamber with a satchel in one hand and a scowl on his face. He was a tall, lanky fellow who moved with loose-limbed grace, and every line of his long body expressed his considerable irritation.
    “Well met, Messire—” I began.
    His scowl deepened. “Yes, yes! It’s my fault for hiring my idiot nephew. He should never have turned you away.” He made an impatient gesture. “Come now, my lady! It’s less than a month’s time until the oath-taking ceremony, with the Longest Night hard on its heels. Strip!”
    “Ah… is that customary, Moirin?” Bao inquired.
    “It’s all right.” I began removing the sari I’d hastily pinned in place. “Messire Vallon needs to take measurements.” I glanced