Naamah's Blessing

it?”
    My eyes stung. “Gods, I hope so!”
    It wasn’t.
    Worn out by my own grief, I slept hard that night. I woke from a dream of a great bell tolling for all the world’s sorrows to find Bao shaking me, and every bell in the City of Elua tolling loudly.
    “What is it?” I asked sleepily.
    “I don’t know.” Bao’s expression was alert and grim. “But I think we ought to find out.”
    Outside, we found commonfolk roaming the streets of the City, and rumor running wild. We followed the course of the rumors to a promenade along the banks of the Aviline River, close to the Palace, where guardsmen in the livery of House Courcel raced frantically back and forth, torches streaking the night with flame, firelight glinting off the waters of the river. All the while, the bells continued their urgent summons.
    “Here, here!”
    “No,
here
!”
    “There he is!” one shouted, pointing at the river. “There, there!”
    I covered my mouth with one hand. “Oh, gods! No!”
    Guards plunged into the river.
    Bao put his arm over my shoulders, pressed his lips to my hair. “Moirin, don’t look.”
    But I did, because I had to. I looked. I watched as members of the Royal Guard swam and gasped in the benighted waters of the Aviline River, sodden in their livery, towing their burden ashore.
    King Daniel.
    For once, he looked at peace. His pale, grave face was at peace with death, his dark hair strewn about him in wet tendrils.
    There was more shouting.
    There were physicians—to no avail. They breathed into his mouth, but he did not respond. His body lay still and lifeless. Daniel de la Courcel, the King of Terre d’Ange, was dead.
    Later, we would learn that the King had begged his Captain of the Guard for solitude, and a chance to walk alone along the banks of the river. That his guards had trailed him at a respectful distance, leaving him to his grief. In the darkness, they’d lost sight of him from time to time.
    No one knew when he’d slipped over the embankment and waded into the river. All they knew was that he’d done it a-purpose, for he hadn’t made a sound and there were stones in his pockets, weighting him down.
    I wept.
    Bao held me.
    Everything had changed.
    Everything.

TWENTY-FOUR

    T erre d’Ange mourned.
    Everywhere in the City of Elua, swags of black crepe were draped over doorways. The trunk of Elua’s Oak was swathed in it. Folk gathered in taverns and wineshops, in each other’s homes, offering comfort to one another. No one wanted to be alone.
    Bao and I spent a great deal of time with Desirée. If the news of her brother’s death had sent her into paroxysms of grief, her father’s suicide had an even worse effect. Somewhat inside her shut down, and she was near as lifeless as a doll.
    I asked my father what was to become of the realm.
    “Parliament will convene after the funeral to appoint a regent until the princess gains her majority,” he said soberly. “Since Duc Rogier’s done a fine job as Royal Minister, odds are they’ll select him.”
    It was what I feared. “Father, they can’t!”
    He stared at me. “Why ever not?”
    “Because the King was going to replace him.” I told him what I knew. When I had finished, he closed his eyes for a long time. “I’m sorry!” I whispered in anguish. “I know you care for him.”
    “I do,” he murmured. “But if what you’re telling me is true… it should at least be taken into account.”
    “What do we do?” I asked him.
    My father sighed. “You’ll have to petition to address Parliament,Moirin. And I warn you, they will not want to hear what you have to say, and you’ll earn his grace’s enmity in the bargain.” He ran a hand over his face. “Think well on it. Rogier may be more ambitious than I reckoned, but he’s a good man at heart.”
    “Is his son?” I asked. “Because
that’s
who he’s aiming to put on the throne.
That’s
who he’d see betrothed to Desirée.”
    He fell silent for a time. “I don’t know. Just… think on it.”
    My
diadh-anam
flickered. “I will,” I said. “But I may not have a choice. I’m oath-bound.”
    “I know.” He took my hand. “And I will stand by you, no matter what you decide.”
    Three days after the King’s death, a joint funeral service for Daniel and Thierry de la Courcel was held at the great Temple of Elua. Bao and I rode in the royal carriage with Desirée, Duc Rogier, and his son.
    All throughout the streets of the City, folk turned out to share their