Naamah's Blessing

my lady,” she murmured in a low tone. “I fear for the child in your absence. Duc Rogier’s son—”
    “I know.”
    Her pretty face hardened. “I’ll do my best to protect her highness. But the Duc has made it clear to me that my position here is tenuous. My status as a member of Eisheth’s Order is the only thing that keeps me here, and he’s hinted that it may not suffice. I dare not speak against the lad lest I lose it.”
    I drew a sharp breath. “He’d dare?”
    Gemma nodded. “Oh, yes. His grace would see the young princess isolated from those who care for her. I suspect he’ll seek to replace me with a peer of the realm chosen from amongst his allies, one whose stature he can claim will serve to better honor the princess than a mere priestess.”
    Bao muttered an unintelligible curse.
    I glanced over the priestess’ shoulder to see Desirée sitting on the floor of the nursery, absorbed in counting the facets of the crystal bottle. “You are no mere priestess, my lady. I thank Eisheth and Sister Marianne for sending you. And I know you will do your best. It’s all any of us can do.”
    Unexpectedly, Gemma took my hand and kissed it. “Eisheth’s blessing on you, Lady Moirin; and you, too, Messire Bao,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I will pray for your success and safe return.”
    This time, I managed not to cry. “Thank you,” I said to her. “We are grateful for it.”
    In the days that followed, our expedition began to take shape. The majority of the planning was handled by House Shahrizai, for which I was grateful since I had no experience in such matters.
    The captain and nearly two-thirds of the crew of Prince Thierry’sflagship volunteered for the return voyage. The ship itself was named
Naamah’s Dove
, which I thought was a hopeful omen. Balthasar Shahrizai set about recruiting trained warriors for the search party. Scores of young noblemen, especially from the Lesser Houses, applied for positions, along with dozens of members of the Royal Guard and a handful of mercenaries. After testing their skills on the practice field, where he did indeed prove surprisingly handy with a sword, Balthasar settled on a hand-picked group of forty men.
    On the advice of Denis de Toluard, a shipment of trade goods was assembled. It seemed that while Terra Nova was rich in numerous resources, iron was not one of them, and much coveted by the Nahuatl.
    “They’d love to get their hands on weapons and armor,” he said grimly. “But they’ll settle for tools.”
    Accordingly, our manifest included a variety of useful implements: hoes and plows and awls and the like. It also included many strings of translucent, colorful glass beads and bright, shimmering mirrors, other items unknown in Terra Nova.
    While our plans proceeded apace, the Duc de Barthelme’s plans marched alongside them.
    To considerable fanfare, the Regent of Terre d’Ange moved his entire household from the duchy of Barthelme to the City of Elua, including his wife, Claudine, and his younger son, Aristide. As Duc Rogier had indicated to me long ago—or what felt like long ago—his wife maintained an extensive household. The train of heavily laden wagons approaching the City seemed half a mile long. Claudine de Barthelme presided over the entry like a Queen, riding a white palfrey, her chin held high. Her younger son, Aristide, rode beside her on a coal-black gelding.
    They were met at the gates of the City by Duc Rogier with his elder son, Tristan, and young Desirée in attendance. The Duchese Claudine made a show of dismounting and curtsying gracefully to Desirée, who handed her a posy of spring flowers. Smiling, Claudine stooped and kissed her cheek.
    It made a pretty picture, the orphaned princess embraced by her new family, and I daresay many of the cheers that greeted it were genuine. Desirée was all smiles, her eyes sparkling.
    Despite the insistent warning of my
diadh-anam
, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was wrong. After all, I’d misread it before; and a part of me wished I
was
mistaken. I wouldn’t mind if it meant Desirée’s happiness.
    But then Duc Rogier introduced me to his wife in my capacity as Desirée’s oath-sworn protector.
    Claudine de Barthelme was an attractive woman, with the golden hair and blue eyes her eldest son had inherited; but there was a calculating coolness behind those eyes and a falseness to her smile.
    “Ah yes, Lady Moirin.” She pressed my hand between hers. “I’ve