Naamah's Blessing

it, holding the guard’s gaze instead.
    His gaze slid sideways away from mine, settling on Bao. “And…?”
    My peasant-boy turned Tatar prince sat on his horse with careless grace, easy in the saddle, his bamboo staff strapped across his back. Gold hoops glinted in his ears, and his tattooed forearms showed beneath the wide cuffs of his embroidered tunic. He looked very, very foreign in this setting. “Bao.”
    “Bao,” the guard repeated in an uncertain tone. “You must be—”
    “My husband,” I supplied helpfully.
    “Just… Bao?”
    I glanced at Bao, who shrugged and raised his brows. “I have had other names,” he admitted, affecting a look of innocent candor. “But that is the one my mother called me. Is it not good enough?”
    It flustered the guard. “Of course, my lord… messire… Bao.” Opening the gates, he waved us through. “Ah… my lord, my lady, be welcome in the City of Elua.”
    Behind the gleaming white walls surrounding the city, all was as I remembered it; and yet it was different, too.
    I
was different.
    I had come to this place young and naïve, overwhelmed by its splendor; a child of the Maghuin Dhonn who had scarce known more than the cave and the wilderness in which I was raised. Now I was not so easily impressed. And yet I found myself longing for the familiar.
    I wished Jehanne were here. And I missed my mother.
    “Moirin?” Bao asked gently.
    I wiped my eyes surreptitiously. “This way.” I nudged my mount. “Let’s see if my father’s in residence.”
    Leading our pack-horses, we made our way to the Temple of Star-Crossed Lovers, drawing stares and murmurs all the way. A part of me wished I had taken Bao’s suggestion and purchased attire for both of us that would let us blend more smoothly into a crowd.
    But then I thought about the simple delight Amrita had taken in showering gifts on us. I remembered Bao’s reminder and rode with my head held high.
    Even so, I was profoundly grateful to see a familiar face when the priestess Noémie d’Etoile opened the temple door.
    “Do you seek sanctuary—?” she began the traditional greeting, then halted, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh, child!” Noémie swept me into an unhesitating embrace. Beneath the crimson silk robes, her body was warm and comforting, and I returned her embrace gladly. She drew back, holding my shoulders and studying me with warm hazel eyes. “I’m so pleased the rumors were true! You’ve come a long, long way, haven’t you?”
    “Aye.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Noémie was as gracious and lovely as ever, but visibly older. I’d been gone long enough that her hair had turned completely grey. “Is my father here, my lady?”
    “Not at the temple, no,” she said. “You’ll find Brother Phanuel at the Palace more often than not these days.”
    I blinked. “The Palace?”
    “You’ve not heard?” she asked. I shook my head. Noémie pursed her lips, glancing past me to take in the sight of Bao holding the reins of all four horses in the street behind me. “Is that your Ch’in prince?”
    I smiled. “I suppose so.”
    Noémie was too polite to comment on the ambiguity of my answer. “He’s quite the exotic young man, isn’t he? Moirin… if you wish to go straightaway to the Palace to seek out your father, I will understand. But I would be pleased to offer you and your prince lodging here, and send word to Brother Phanuel.”
    “I would like that,” I said honestly. “And… whatever you may have heard, my lady, Bao is here of his own will.”
    “I would never for an instant have thought otherwise.” She smiled and gave me the kiss of greeting; and there was enough of a mother’s tenderness in it that my eyes stung. “Welcome home, Moirin.”
    As soon as the young priest serving as an ostler had come to tend to our horses, Noémie extended the same greeting to Bao, kissing him warmly.
    “Well met, your highness,” she said to him. “In Naamah’s name, be welcome here.”
    Bao cleared his throat. “Ah… I am not exactly a prince.”
    Her brows rose. “No?”
    “No.” He shook his head. “Not exactly.”
    Noémie regarded him with bemusement. “Well, you are welcome here nonetheless.”
    He bowed to her in the Ch’in manner, hand over fist. “For that, and for your kindness to Moirin, I am grateful.”
    Inside the temple, an air of quiet grace prevailed. Priests and priestesses in flowing robes of red silk glanced at us with gentle