Naamah's Blessing

curiosity as they went about their duties, curiosity tempered by a long habit of patience.
    This was Naamah’s place, and all lovers were under her protection. I felt a tightness inside me begin to ease.
    “Tell me, my lady,” I said to Noémie over a light meal of honey-cakesand sweetened tea. “How does it come to pass that my father spends his days at the Palace? I thought him more the wandering type.”
    “So he was.” She rested her chin in her hand. “But since the Duc de Barthelme was appointed Lord Minister of the realm, he has wished to keep the companion of his youth close by him.”
    I frowned. “The Duc de Barthelme?”
    “Rogier Courcel,” she clarified. “Another descendant of House Courcel, and a close kinsman of the King. Your father served as his royal companion.”
    “Aye, I remember.” I did, although it was a vague memory. I’d met the man but briefly, distracted by the woeful tangle of affairs in which I’d gotten myself enmeshed and the enormity of meeting my long-lost father. “What does it mean that he was appointed Lord Minister?”
    Again, Noémie studied me. “You heard of Queen Jehanne’s death?” she asked gently.
    I nodded.
    Her kind gaze was troubled. “Since that time, King Daniel has been… disengaged from the affairs of the realm. Recognizing his failings, he appointed his grace the Duc de Barthelme to administer to matters of importance.”
    “You don’t think he should have done that, do you?” Bao asked.
    Noémie d’Etoile looked mortified. “I did not say that!”
    His lean-muscled shoulders rose and fell. “You didn’t need to.”
    She was silent a moment. “I think it sets a dangerous precedent,” she admitted at length. “But mayhap a necessary one. I will be glad when Prince Thierry returns from Terra Nova to help his father bear the burden of rule.”
    “Thought so,” Bao confirmed, helping himself to another honey-cake. “At least this Duc has the sense to seek out Moirin’s father’s counsel. So that’s good, huh?”
    Noémie sighed. “It is.”
    Intrigue.
    Politics.
    To be sure, I had returned to Terre d’Ange. I sighed too, already feeling weary. “My lady,” I said to Noémie. “Might I visit the temple proper, and pay my respects to the goddess and my ancestress?”
    She stood with alacrity. “Of course, child!”
    It was a powerful thing to see the image of my great-great-grandmother posing for the likeness of Naamah. The first time I had beheld it was the first time I’d felt myself truly connected to the rich history of Terre d’Ange. Her head was tilted to one side, regarding the pair of doves held nestled in her cupped hands. She looked so very, very serene.
    I sank to my knees, gazing at her.
    Bao sat cross-legged beside me. “So she’s your ancestress, huh?”
    “Aye.” I smiled a little. “Well, it was my great-great-grandmother who posed for the effigy. She was a priestess of Naamah, and the first royal companion.”
    He cocked his head, contemplating the image. “Something in her face reminds me of the
tulku
Laysa. Not a likeness, but a calmness.”
    My smile turned rueful. “I suppose I’m not at all like her, am I?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Bao said, surprising me. “You can be. You’re different with women than you are with men.”
    “I am?”
    “You hadn’t noticed?” He looked amused. “Yes, Moirin. I heard the stories when you were with your Queen Jehanne. You soothed her temper. And although it was a different matter, I saw how you were with the princess in Ch’in. You were always patient and kind.” Bao shrugged, and made an eloquent gesture with one hand. “With women, you are like water, flowing and yielding. With men…” He grinned, banging his fists together. “Sparks.”
    “Hmm.” Thinking on it, I realized there was a measure of truth to Bao’s words. “I don’t intend it.”
    “It’s not good or bad,” Bao said philosophically. “It’s who you are.” He nudged me with one knee. “Anyway, I like sparks.”
    “Lucky for us both.” When I leaned over to give him a fleeting kiss, he uncoiled smoothly and pulled me down atop him, startling a laughfrom me. “You’re becoming more D’Angeline than D’Angelines,” I said breathlessly.
    Bao slid one arm around my waist, cupped the back of my head, and kissed me. “I do not think your ancestress will mind, nor will Naamah,” he said. “After all, she did bless our wedding.”
    I smiled at the memory of Naamah’s