Naamah's Blessing

her highness Desirée de la Courcel’s oath-sworn protector?”
    “I do.”
    “Will you regard her interests as your own, seek to defend her from every danger, and hold her happiness as a matter of sacred trust?”
    “I will.”
    His majesty extended his right hand, the signet ring of House Courcel on his forefinger. “Then in the presence of all assembled here, I bid you give your oath.”
    There was a weight to the moment. I felt it pressing down on me, felt my
diadh-anam
flicker in response to it.
    The folk of the Maghuin Dhonn did not swear oaths lightly. I had prayed to the gods of Terre d’Ange; now I prayed to the Great Bear Herself to give me the strength to carry out this duty.
    “On the blood of Blessed Elua, I swear it.” Raising my voice, I added the ancient oath of the Maghuin Dhonn. “By stone and sea and sky, and all that they encompass, by the sacred troth that binds me to my
diadh-anam
, I swear it!”
    The words rang in the quiet throne room, followed by a startled murmur. But King Daniel met my eyes with grave approval, understanding what it meant to one of the Maghuin Dhonn. I knelt and pressed my lips to his signet ring. “So be it,” he murmured, laying his hand on my head in benediction. “May you serve my daughter as faithfully and truly as you served her mother.”
    My eyes stung. “I will do my best, your majesty.”
    He smiled sadly. “I know.”
    “Thank you, Moirin!” Desirée flung her arms around my neck, hugging me hard. “Can we see the tumblers now?”
    I kissed her soft cheek. “I do believe we can, dear heart.”
    She gave her royal father an unwontedly shy look. “Will you come, Father? To see the tumblers?”
    The King hesitated.
    “It is a day for joy,” I reminded him. “A day to be celebrated. And I have just sworn an oath to hold your daughter’s happiness as a sacred trust. Would you have me forsworn already?”
    His mouth quirked. “Yes, child,” he said gently to Desirée. “I will come see the tumblers.”
    Of all the gifts I could have given the young princess, I daresay that was the best one. She glowed in her father’s presence, basking in his rare affection.
    Every seat in the Palace theater was filled to capacity, and there were ordinary D’Angeline citizens who had drawn gilded tiles in the lottery standing shoulder to shoulder on the floor, gazing up at the stage in eager anticipation. We sat in the royal box, directly overlooking the stage.
    “Will there be dragons, Bao?” Desirée asked, her blue-grey eyes sparkling at him. “Truly?”
    He nodded. “Oh, yes. Only one, but truly.”
    She shivered with delight. “Did you hear, Father?”
    “I heard.” King Daniel spared Bao a rueful glance. “I hope this spectacle of yours does not disappoint.”
    “It won’t,” Bao said confidently.
    It didn’t.
    It was a gorgeous, glorious affair. Antoine nó Eglantine began by taking the stage and announcing that the day’s performance was a tribute to my adventures in the faraway, exotic empire of Ch’in.
    That, I hadn’t known.
    I looked sideways at Bao, who grinned. “Just watch, Moirin.”
    There were tumblers performing slow, measured feats of strength, grace, and balance atop high poles; and somehow it reminded me of learning the Five Styles of Breathing from Master Lo.
    There was a sequence with trapezes that somehow managed to evoke the feel of a long sea-voyage.
    Then came war.
    It began with drums—gods, so many drums! There must have been two dozen of them, deep-bellied and resonant. At first, the drummers beat softly on them, but the percussive chorus rose steadily. Tumblers on one side of the stage shot mock arrows from mock bows, trailing glittering strands of gilded fabric. On the other side, tumblers tossed round balls trailing broad crimson ribbons. Back and forth they went, filling the air between them.
    The drums grew louder.
    In the background, a pair of women mounted a scaffold, climbing ever higher and higher.
    When they reached the apex, they jumped, silken robes billowing around them.
    The drumming reached a crescendo, and halted. All the tumblers onstage fell down, exiting the stage with backward somersaults.
    Somewhere, bronze sheets rattled, evoking thunder and lightning.
    And then the dragon appeared, eliciting a shriek of pure joy from Desirée and gasps of awe from the crowd.
    It was immense, long silvery coils shimmering in the lamplight as it flowed sinuously over the stage, winding like a river. The