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Synopsis
Returning to Terre d'Ange, Moirin finds the royal family broken. Wracked by unrelenting grief at the loss of his wife, Queen Jehanne, King Daniel is unable to rule. Prince Thierry, leading an expedition to explore the deadly jungles of Terra Nova, is halfway across the world. And three-year-old Desirée is a vision of her mother: tempestuous, intelligent, and fiery, but desperately lonely and a vulnerable pawn in a game of shifting political allegiances.
As tensions mount, King Daniel asks that Moirin become Desirée's oath-sworn protector. Navigating the intricate political landscape of the Court proves a difficult challenge, and when dire news arrives from overseas, the spirit of Queen Jehanne visits Moirin in a dream and bids her undertake an impossible quest.
Another specter from the past also haunts Moirin. Travelling with Thierry in the New World is Raphael de Mereliot, her manipulative former lover. Years ago, Raphael forced her to help him summon fallen angels in the hopes of acquiring mystical gifts and knowledge. It was a disastrous effort that nearly killed them, and Moirin must finally bear the costs of those bitter mistakes.
Release date: June 29, 2011
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 624
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Naamah's Blessing
Jacqueline Carey
“Jacqueline Carey’s writing continues to amaze me in its exquisite detail, graceful prose, and fascinating characterization. NAAMAH’S BLESSING is a wonderful conclusion to the trilogy, and I am completely satisfied with Moirin’s story.”
—TheDiscriminatingFangirl.com
“A++! [The] perfect example of how to end a series… If you want a lush fantasy that will entertain, move, and ultimately cheer you up, try Moirin’s saga starting with the memorable Naamah’s Kiss and ending so well here!”
—FantasyBookCritic.com
“An exciting tale… fans will enjoy Moirin’s latest escapades.”
—Midwest Book Review
“NAAMAH’S BLESSING ends the [series] in great style… lush and exuberant… A lot of surprises and gasp moments, tragedy but joy… and a superb ending to a trilogy that only adds to the impressive achievement that is the whole Kushiel saga. This may be my top fantasy for the year, especially considering how hard is to end a series in grand style.”
—GoodReads.com
“The world is simply too stunning and too beautiful for me not to want to visit it again and again… If you love epic, sweeping fantasy mixed with romance, do give this series a try.”
—Book-Addicts.com
“Ms. Carey writes some of the most gorgeous, imaginative fantasy I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading… NAAMAH’S BLESSING is a near pitch-perfect finale to a rare, truly fantastic series… The conclusion to Moirin’s story is handled with the deftness, emotional poignancy, and depth that is Jacqueline Carey’s trademark… With Moirin’s adventures concluded, I can only hope that there is more in this universe coming, and soon.”
—TheBookSmugglers.com
“Carey’s storytelling ability is top-notch.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Exquisite… a beautiful, intelligent novel… a world that not only enchants, but confronts readers to think and comprehend. I loved Naamah’s Curse from beginning to end, and I cannot wait for the final installment.”
—TheBookSmugglers.com
“Once again, Jacqueline Carey delivers a lushly written, erotic adventure that is deeply engrossing… Moirin’s journey is full of beautiful highs and heartbreaking lows, and it kept me hanging on every word… Carey is a master of writing gorgeous, vivid description.”
—TheDiscriminatingFangirl.com
“Strong A… An excellent novel that I could not put down once started since the voice of Moirin has remained extremely compelling… a page-turner end to end… I recommend it without reserves for any lovers of exquisite fantasy.”
—FantasyBookCritic.com
“A standout… gripping novel… Bring this book with you on vacation to rip through in a fun frenzy, but don’t be surprised if you’re thinking about it for days afterward.”
—io9.com
“Powerful… Carey writes with meditative grace, eroticism, and excitement… Moirin is a nuanced, sympathetic protagonist… While Carey’s fans will clamor for this, it’s also a good entry point for new readers.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Carey writes with an irresistible sense of adventure… Her world seems boundless.”
—“A.V. Club,” The Onion
“Carey begins her new series with a bang. Moirin is an exciting heroine who… playfully and passionately explores the sacredness of sexuality. Highly recommended.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“Jacqueline Carey has legions of fans hooked on her addictive fantasy epics chock full of political intrigue, steamy romance, and devilishly enthralling characterization… and she continues to crank out the hits.”
—Curve
“4 Stars! Readers are likely to find themselves carried away by the first book in the newest series set in Carey’s lushly imagined alternate Renaissance Europe… Densely plotted and with layers of nuance, this installment is a welcome addition to Carey’s oeuvre.”
—RT Book Reviews
“I was completely enthralled… A novel of pure adventure, with a kick-ass heroine who gets to fight, do magic, and get laid just like the swashbuckling heroes of old… a hell of a lot of fun.”
—io9.com
Unable to sleep, I stood in the stern of the ship, watching the past fall farther behind me. The moon was bright and full, turning the ship’s wake into a wide, silvery path on the dark water behind us. A handful of seagulls winged across the night sky, following us, their presence lending credence to the captain’s claim that we would make port in Marsilikos on the morrow.
A thousand thoughts and memories crowded my mind.
I tried to still them as Master Lo Feng had taught me, breathing the Five Styles and emptying my mind.
Tonight, it didn’t work.
Four years. By my best guess, that was how long it had been since I stepped onto a Ch’in greatship in the harbor of Marsilikos, and sailed off in pursuit of my everlasting destiny.
Now that same destiny was leading me back to Terre d’Ange, land of my father’s birth, where my patron-goddess Naamah held sway, worshipped as one of Blessed Elua’s Companions.
Naamah, goddess of desire; the bright lady. And Anael the Good Steward, the man with the seedling cupped in his hand, who had given me a gift for coaxing plants to grow.
The thought prompted a memory of marigolds exploding from the earth in a field in Bhaktipur, a riot of orange, saffron, and yellow, blooming in glorious profusion, all out of season. That, and the look of wonder on the Rani Amrita’s lovely face.
It made me smile wistfully. Bhaktipur was far, far behind me now. So were Amrita and her clever son, Ravindra, and the tulku Laysa, one of the reborn Enlightened Ones, who had told me I had oceans yet to cross.
So much lay behind me.
Villains and heroes, the kindness of ordinary folk—aye, and the pettiness and cruelty, too. Battles and intrigue, long, grueling journeys. Epic tales come to life, dire futures glimpsed and averted.
I leaned on the railing, remembering.
Beneath the moonlight, the ship sailed smoothly across the face of the sea. Its sounds had grown familiar; the creaking of timber and rope, the snap and flutter of the sail, the sleepy murmur of sailors on night-watch.
After a time, I sensed Bao’s approach, the divided half of my diadh-anam drawing nearer to me.
Bao, my husband.
Despite the long months that had passed since we were wed, I wasn’t accustomed to the word.
He came to stand beside me, gazing out at the silvery wake, his forearms braced on the railing and his shoulder brushing mine in a companionable manner. “Did you dream of her?” he asked in a low voice. “The White Queen?”
I shook my head. “Just restless.”
“Ah. With Terre d’Ange so close, I thought maybe…”
“I did, too.” I took a deep breath. “But no.”
Bao nodded, and said nothing. In the silence, his diadh-anam entwined with mine, a sensation as intimate as a caress.
Until I was a woman grown, I had not fully understood that most folk do not carry their diadh-anams within them. Although I was half-D’Angeline, Naamah’s child on my father’s side, I was born in Alba to the folk of the Maghuin Dhonn, the Great Bear Herself, who planted a spark of Her soul in each of Her children, a flickering inner light to guide us through our lives.
Never, ever had I heard of a diadh-anam being divided—but mine had been.
It had restored Bao to life.
The deed lay behind us in distant Ch’in, Bao’s homeland, farther in the receding past than Bhaktipur, where we had saved an empire and freed a dragon, where a sorcerer had slain Bao with a poisoned dart.
And Master Lo Feng, in his grief and sorrow, had used his arts and my magic to give his life and half my divine soul-spark to bring Bao back from the dead, inextricably linking our destinies.
Master Lo couldn’t have known that it would send his stubborn magpie of an assistant, a reformed prince of thugs, into headlong flight from a destiny he hadn’t chosen; nor that I would be compelled by my diadh-anam to follow him.
On the Tatar steppe at last we admitted to ourselves and each other that it was love, as well as Master Lo’s art, that bound us together. But as soon as we began to truly explore our bond, we were betrayed—me into the hands of a Yeshuite fanatic in northern Vralia, wrapped in chains that stifled my very soul-spark, while Bao was sent on a fruitless quest in the opposite direction to rescue me.
Still, in the end, we had found one another again. In the valley kingdom of Bhaktipur, we were wed.
Of course, our union was complicated by the fact that on the eve of our wedding, I was visited in my dreams by the ghost of Jehanne de la Courcel, the impossibly beautiful and highly mercurial D’Angeline queen I had loved so very much; and that Jehanne had told me I had unfinished business with a man both of us had loved, and would need her aid before it was over.
I stole a glance at Bao. His face was calm in the moonlight. Shadowed eyes; high, wide cheekbones; full lips. Moonlight silvered his unruly shock of black hair, glinted on the gold hoops in his earlobes and the bands of iron reinforcing the bamboo staff he wore lashed across his back.
He caught me looking, and raised his brows. “Like what you see, huh?” he asked in a teasing tone.
I tugged on one ear-hoop hard enough to make him wince. “Mayhap.”
Bao grinned. “You do.”
I slid one hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. “I do.”
He kissed me back, then pulled away, his expression turning serious. “It’s going to be hard for you, Moirin. Coming home.”
“Home.” The word escaped me in a sigh. “Terre d’Ange isn’t home, not really.”
“Alba?”
“Aye.” I gazed into the distance. “But…”
“Raphael de Mereliot.” Bao finished my unspoken thought for me. His mouth twisted. “That idiot Lord Lion Mane.”
I said nothing.
Raphael de Mereliot was the man that Jehanne and I had both loved—her favorite courtier, the man I had believed held my destiny for a time. Tall, tawny-haired Raphael de Mereliot with his healer’s hands. I’d let him use me, use my small gift of magic to augment his healing arts.
Together we had saved lives, including my father’s.
But I had let Raphael use me for other purposes, summoning fallen spirits filled with trickery. It had nearly killed me.
I had been very young, and very foolish.
Jehanne…
Ah, gods!
She had saved me from Raphael’s ambition, saved me from myself, claiming me for her own. And I had let her, gladly. She’d had a bower filled with plants made for me, granting me a safe haven. She had made me her royal companion. She had trusted me to be there for her when she honored her promise to her husband, King Daniel de la Courcel, setting aside Raphael de Mereliot and praying to Eisheth to open the gates of her womb, that she might bear the King a child.
But I had left her.
And while I was on the far side of the world, pursuing my everlasting destiny, Jehanne had died in childbirth.
If I had been there, we could have saved her, Raphael and I.
I wept.
Bao’s arms encircled me. He spoke no words of false comfort, only breathed the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves, drawn in through the nostrils into the pit of the belly, expelled through the mouth.
Slowly, slowly, as I had done so many times before, I matched my breathing to his, my thoughts growing calm.
The ship swayed and creaked beneath us. The past continued to draw farther and farther away, the shining trail of wake etched in the moonlight, ever fading behind us and drawn anew.
I wiped my eyes. “Thank you.”
Bao nodded. “I am here, Moirin.”
My breath caught in my throat. Those were words I had spoken to Jehanne many times—and they had always been true, until they were not. I turned in Bao’s arms, studying his face, wondering if he knew. “You are, aren’t you?”
A wry smile lingered on his lips. “Try getting rid of me.”
“Oh…” I reached up to tweak his ear-hoops again, then tugged his head down for another kiss. “I’d rather not.”
Bao laughed softly.
The ship sailed onward, rendering the past a series of memories, carrying us toward a new destiny.
I prayed that for once, the gods would be merciful.
But I doubted it.
Come daybreak, we saw the distant harbor.
Marsilikos.
The golden dome of the palace of the Lady of Marsilikos gleamed in the early autumn sunlight, a beacon to sailors everywhere. I’d been there once, and it wasn’t a good memory. Raphael de Mereliot’s sister Eleanore ruled Marsilikos, and she’d had me summoned to upbraid me for ruining her brother’s reputation. I’d lost my temper and shouted at her, telling her some unpleasant truths about her brother.
I wasn’t looking forward to a repeat encounter.
It was early afternoon when we made port. I hoped we would be able to disembark without fanfare. The ship was a Bhodistani trade-ship, our passage having been arranged by the Rani Amrita’s family in the coastal city of Galanka. I’d thought Bao and I might slip out of the harbor unnoticed among the sailors and traders; but it was not to be. No sooner had we arrived on the quay, surrounded by our trunks carried by Captain Ramchandra’s able sailors, than a horde of sharp-eyed, half-grown youths descended on us, shouting offers.
“Hey, messire, hey, messire! Best price porter, best guide! Best lodging for you and the noble lady!”
Bao caught my eye and grinned. “I told you not to wear so much jewelry.”
I spared a glance at the bangles that adorned my wrist: the jade bangle the color of a reflecting pool that had been a gift from our Ch’in princess Snow Tiger, the many gold bangles Amrita had insisted on gifting me. “True.”
The young mercenaries pressed closer, clamoring. With one fluid motion, Bao whipped his bamboo staff loose over his back, twirling it before him so fast it was a blur that made the air sing.
Our would-be porters and guides yelped with alarm and delight, jumping backward and falling silent.
Bao’s grin widened. “So!” He planted the butt of his staff on the quay with a resounding thud. “I am the best at what I do. Which of you is the best at what you do?”
A copper-haired youth with eyes almost as green as mine stepped forward without hesitating. “Me, messire!” He jerked his head, and four more youths fell in behind him. “You want the best of everything for you and the beautiful lady? Best guide, best lodging?” With a smile that managed to be at once sly, reverent, and wise beyond his years, he kissed his fingertips. “Best pleasure-houses for a noble foreign couple? Oh, yes! Let Leo be your guide.”
I hid a smile of my own. Only in Terre d’Ange would a stripling street-lad offer to escort an apparently high-born couple to a pleasure-house within seconds of their arrival. “Lodging first,” I said firmly. “Anyplace with a nice bathing-chamber.”
The lad Leo blinked in surprise at my near-flawless D’Angeline accent. It wasn’t my mother-tongue, but I’d learned to speak it at an early age, and Bao and I had been practicing on the ship to improve his fluency. Leo gave me an appraising look, seeing past the foreign bangles and jewelry, past the bright orange and gold-trimmed silks I wore wrapped and draped in the Bhodistani fashion, past my honey-colored skin and black hair, registering my half-D’Angeline features. His brow furrowed in confusion. “You speak awfully good for a foreigner, madame.”
“She’s not a foreigner,” a new voice said behind us. “Not exactly.”
I turned to see the harbor-master, a stern-faced fellow I vaguely recognized from four years ago.
He inclined his head to me. “Lady Moirin mac Fainche, I believe. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, messire.” I raised my brows at the coolness of his tone. “You do not come bearing another summons, I hope? I do not wish to trouble the Lady of Marsilikos with my presence.”
“No.” A shadow of sorrow crossed his features. “I fear the Duchese Eleanore de Mereliot succumbed to a grave illness these two years gone by.”
“Oh!” My breath caught in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “Did Raphael inherit—” Belatedly, I remembered that Marsilikos was always ruled by a woman, and the question died on my lips.
The harbor-master shook his head. “No. Her Grace the Duchese Laurentine de Mereliot, a near kinswoman, rules in Marsilikos now.”
Despite everything, my heart ached a little for Raphael. He had lost so very, very much in his lifetime. “I’m sorry,” I repeated inadequately. “So he’s… he’s not here, is he?”
Beside me, Bao shifted slightly. He disliked Raphael de Mereliot, and for good reason, but I had to ask. Whatever the unfinished business between us was, I’d as soon see it swiftly concluded.
“You hadn’t heard?” The harbor-master looked surprised for a moment. “No, but of course, you’ve been away, or you’d have known about the Lady. Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking. After his sister’s death, Lord Raphael joined the Dauphin’s expedition to Terra Nova.”
Ah, gods! My heart sank, and Bao gave me a stricken glance. The vast lands of Terra Nova, only discovered within my lifetime, lay on the far side of the world.
But the harbor-master was still speaking. “… expedition is due to return in the spring.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Gods be thanked! That’s good news, then.”
“Indeed.” The man looked uncomfortable. Based on my unfortunate history with House Mereliot, he might not have been kindly disposed to me, but he wasn’t heartless. “Lady Moirin, Terre d’Ange has suffered other losses in your absence. Were you aware that Queen Jehanne…?” Like me earlier, he let the sentence dangle unfinished.
“Aye,” I murmured. “That, I heard.”
He straightened his shoulders. “Well, then. I would not be remiss in my duty to a descendant of House Courcel.” He gestured at young Leo and his crew of street-lads, listening and gaping silently. “Shall I disperse this ragtag rabble for you? I can assign a cadre of guards to assist you with your needs.”
I hesitated.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Bao interjected, slinging one arm over Leo’s shoulders, causing the lad’s eyes to brighten. “We like… how do you say it? Ragtag rabble.”
The harbor-master bowed formally. “As you wish.”
After he took his leave, we said our thanks and farewells to Captain Ramchandra, who had escorted us safely to these shores. He bowed to us in the Bhodistani manner, his palms pressed together.
“It has been my very great honor!” he said. “I give thanks to you for restoring Kamadeva’s diamond to its proper place.”
Bao glanced sidelong at me, amused.
I cleared my throat. “It was our honor to do so.”
We had done that, Bao and I. The Rani Amrita had charged us with the task of returning Kamadeva’s diamond, a black jewel forged from the ashes of the Bhodistani god of desire, to the temple from which it had been stolen by Jagrati, a woman reckoned by her own people to be untouchable. I had carried it in a locked coffer for leagues upon leagues, fearful of its temptations.
All too well, I knew its power.
So did Bao, better than I did.
But we had carried it willingly for the sake of our lady Amrita; she who had withstood its allure when Jagrati the Spider Queen bore it; she who had had the strength to surrender it. In the temple where it had resided for many, many hundreds of years, we watched the priests break open the coffer, daring with trembling hands to transfer the diamond with its fiery heart filled with dark, shifting hues into the cupped and open hands of the god Shiva’s effigy.
There, it resided—a blessing ready to be invoked by all who sought it, and not a weapon to be wielded by any one soul.
The bright lady had approved.
“Hey, lady!” young Leo called breathlessly, trotting beneath the weight of one of our trunks. “I know who you are! I remember!”
“Oh, you do, do you?” I glanced at him. He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten when I’d left Terre d’Ange, but there was no underestimating the D’Angeline capacity for gossip.
“Oh, aye!” His face was flushed, but his eyes shone. “It was when the biggest ship in the world was in the harbor! D’ye remember, Michel?” he asked one of his companions. The other lad grunted in assent. “We went to look at it every day! From Ch’in, they said. You look like one of their sailors,” he added to Bao.
“Was he uncommonly handsome?” Bao inquired cheerfully.
“No!” Leo’s flush deepened. “I mean, not like one particular fellow. You look like all of them.”
Bao raised his brows at me.
“Uncommonly handsome,” I assured him.
“Anyway,” Leo continued heedlessly, “I remember! We went to watch the ship set sail, too. It was like watching a floating palace set out to sea! And everyone said that half-breed”—he lowered his voice—“bear-witch who summoned demons and ruined Lord Raphael and seduced the Queen was being sent away on the ship! That was you, wasn’t it?”
I sighed. “First of all, they were fallen spirits, not demons—”
He interrupted me. “What’s the difference?”
“Ah… I’m not sure,” I admitted. “At any rate, I didn’t summon them, I just… helped.”
“Those idiots couldn’t have done a thing without you,” Bao scoffed. “Your magic opened the doorway that let the demon through.”
“You’re not helping,” I informed him.
“So you really can do magic?” one of the other lads asked, wide-eyed. He stumbled over a cobblestone, and would have dropped the trunk he was carrying if Bao hadn’t caught it. “Can you turn into a bear?” He looked excited and horrified at the thought.
“No,” I said gently. “The Maghuin Dhonn Herself took that gift away from us long before I was born. Do you know the story of Prince Imriel?” All of them nodded; it was one of the great tales of Terre d’Ange. “Well, that’s why She took it away. Now all my people have left is a small gift for magic meant to conceal and protect us.”
“But it can be used for other things, too,” Bao added. “Good and bad. Moirin was very foolish to use it to help summon demons, but it was not her idea. It was your Lord Raphael’s idea. And she was not sent away. She left to accompany me and my wise mentor, Master Lo Feng, to save a princess and rescue a dragon in faraway Ch’in.” He gave me an inquiring look. “Better?”
“Better,” I agreed.
The lads looked skeptical. “There’s no such thing as a dragon,” Leo said.
“Oh, there is!” Bao grinned. “Maybe not here, but in Ch’in. We have ridden in one’s claw as he soared through the sky and called the thunderstorms.”
“Also, I did not seduce the Queen,” I put in stubbornly. They blinked at me, having forgotten the initial topic in the talk of dragons and faraway lands. “Queen Jehanne,” I reminded them. “Tell me, does her daughter thrive?”
Leo nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, madame! They call her the Little Pearl. She is much beloved in the City of Elua.”
“And his majesty King Daniel?”
He hesitated. “It is said he is… sad. He grieves deeply for the loss of the Queen, and he quarreled bitterly with the Dauphin when Prince Thierry insisted on leading an expedition to Terra Nova.”
I fell silent, thinking and remembering while Leo pressed Bao for more talk of dragons and cursed princesses.
I hadn’t known Daniel de la Courcel well, but I had liked him. Even before Jehanne’s death, sorrow at the loss of his first wife, Prince Thierry’s mother, had marked him. He was a grave and honorable man whose only fault, if it could be called one, was that he was overly cautious. While other countries had launched explorations into Terra Nova, and Thierry had pressed for the right to do the same, King Daniel had refused to allow it.
Not until Jehanne conceived had Daniel relented, promising to let his firstborn son and heir sail off in pursuit of glory if a second child was born hale, securing the line of succession.
Knowing of him what I did, I could well imagine Daniel would have had a change of heart upon Jehanne’s death. He had loved and lost two women; I did not think he had it in him to risk losing a third. He would have refused to remarry and he would have wanted to keep both his heirs close and safe.
But it seemed Thierry had held his father to his word, and now he was in Terra Nova—and Raphael with him.
“Moirin?” Bao’s voice broke my reverie. “We have reached the inn. Do you find it acceptable, or do you wish to inspect the bathing-chamber?”
Meeting his gaze, I saw the sincere concern behind his jesting, and summoned a smile. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
He nodded. “I told you this homecoming would be hard.”
“Aye.” I took a deep breath. “So you did.”
The inn was fine; more than fine.
An hour after our arrival, I sank into the depths of a generous marble tub, submerging my entire body. I scrubbed months’ worth of shipboard grime from my skin and washed my salt-stiffened hair. Servants of the inn brought bucket after bucket of freshly heated water to replace the dirty water, until the chamber was filled with steam.
The third time they entered, Bao followed.
“Come to join me?” I inquired.
He flashed a grin at me. “Uh-huh. Think there’s room?”
I smiled. “Aye, I do.”
The attendants left, giggling as Bao began to strip off the embroidered Bhodistani tunic and breeches he wore, revealing his lean-muscled fighter’s body. He paused, gazing at me with half-lidded eyes. “You look like something out of those stories sailors tell. What is the word in D’Angeline?”
I stirred the water. “Mermaid?”
“That’s it.” He climbed into the opposite end of the marble tub, dunking his whole head, coming up streaming water. “Soap?”
“Here.” I handed the ball of soap to him and watched him wash, taking pleasure in the sight. The black zig-zag tattoos he had acquired in Kurugiri stood out in stark contrast against the brown skin of his corded forearms, marking the way up and down a secret passage through a mountainous labyrinth, at the top of which the Spider Queen Jagrati and her husband the Falconer made their lair. Or at least they had, until we overthrew them with the help of the Rani Amrita and her army.
We had lived through a lot together, Bao and I.
“Do you ever think of her?” I asked him.
He followed my gaze, lifting one arm and letting it drop. “Jagrati? Sometimes, yes. I try not to. Why?”
I shrugged. Bao had spent long months under her thrall, bound by Kamadeva’s diamond and opium. Believing me dead, he had been content to wallow in darkness. “I just wondered.”
Bao leaned against the back of the tub. “Your presence keeps the memories away, Moirin,” he said in a serious manner; and then his grin returned. “Leo asked me if I was a prince in my own land. I told him that I was, but I gave up my kingdom to be with you.”
I raised my brows. “That is stretching the truth, my magpie.”
“Only a little,” he said in an unrepentant tone. “I’m sure the Great Khan would have gifted me with a territory of my own if I had remained wed to his daughter.”
“It’s possible,” I admitted.
“Anyway, Leo thought it was a very admirable story.” Bao nudged me with one foot. “Am I royalty now that I’m wed to you?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
His dark eyes gleamed. “No, of course not. I only wondered if I was entitled to be called Lord Bao.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, well.” Bao gave a good-natured shrug. “Still, pretty good for a bastard peasant-boy with no family name.”
“I’ve no lands to my name, you know,” I commented. “None of the Maghuin Dhonn do. We are allowed to dwell in the wild places of Alba in the terms of a sacred trust forged by Alais the Wise many years ago, but we do not own them. I have no title. Lady Moirin is just an honorific acknowledging my heritage.”
“I am only teasing, Moirin.” Bao leaned forward, tugging me so that I slid to straddle his waist. Water slopped over the edges of the tub. Intensity heated his gaze. “I love you, and I would choose to be with you whether in a slum or a cave or a palace. All right?”
I cupped his face and kissed him. “Aye.”
His callused hands slid over my slippery skin, creating a glorious friction. I rubbed myself against him, feeling his arousal.
One of the inn’s servants opened the door to the bathing-chamber, then closed it with a soft laugh.
Bao reached down into the bath-water, grasping his taut phallus, fitting the swollen head between my nether-lips. “You see?” His other hand slid around the nape of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss as he pushed himself into me. “For you, I will even learn to be more like a D’Angeline.” His hips thrust upward. “Depraved and scandalous.”
I drew a long, shuddering breath as he filled me, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Indeed.”
He smiled. “I have always been a clever student.”
Laughing, the bright lady agreed.
In the morning, with young Leo’s eager aid, we set about procuring passage overland to the City of Elua.
After the close quarters I had endured on the ship, I could not bear the thought of being cloistered in a carriage for days. Mercifully, Bao understood, knowing that there was a part of me that chafed at being confined, all the more so since the ordeal I had undergone in Vralia.
So it was that we bartered with a horse-trader that Leo assured us was reputable for a pair of saddle-horses and a pair of pack-horses. Bao watched with considerable
—TheDiscriminatingFangirl.com
“A++! [The] perfect example of how to end a series… If you want a lush fantasy that will entertain, move, and ultimately cheer you up, try Moirin’s saga starting with the memorable Naamah’s Kiss and ending so well here!”
—FantasyBookCritic.com
“An exciting tale… fans will enjoy Moirin’s latest escapades.”
—Midwest Book Review
“NAAMAH’S BLESSING ends the [series] in great style… lush and exuberant… A lot of surprises and gasp moments, tragedy but joy… and a superb ending to a trilogy that only adds to the impressive achievement that is the whole Kushiel saga. This may be my top fantasy for the year, especially considering how hard is to end a series in grand style.”
—GoodReads.com
“The world is simply too stunning and too beautiful for me not to want to visit it again and again… If you love epic, sweeping fantasy mixed with romance, do give this series a try.”
—Book-Addicts.com
“Ms. Carey writes some of the most gorgeous, imaginative fantasy I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading… NAAMAH’S BLESSING is a near pitch-perfect finale to a rare, truly fantastic series… The conclusion to Moirin’s story is handled with the deftness, emotional poignancy, and depth that is Jacqueline Carey’s trademark… With Moirin’s adventures concluded, I can only hope that there is more in this universe coming, and soon.”
—TheBookSmugglers.com
“Carey’s storytelling ability is top-notch.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Exquisite… a beautiful, intelligent novel… a world that not only enchants, but confronts readers to think and comprehend. I loved Naamah’s Curse from beginning to end, and I cannot wait for the final installment.”
—TheBookSmugglers.com
“Once again, Jacqueline Carey delivers a lushly written, erotic adventure that is deeply engrossing… Moirin’s journey is full of beautiful highs and heartbreaking lows, and it kept me hanging on every word… Carey is a master of writing gorgeous, vivid description.”
—TheDiscriminatingFangirl.com
“Strong A… An excellent novel that I could not put down once started since the voice of Moirin has remained extremely compelling… a page-turner end to end… I recommend it without reserves for any lovers of exquisite fantasy.”
—FantasyBookCritic.com
“A standout… gripping novel… Bring this book with you on vacation to rip through in a fun frenzy, but don’t be surprised if you’re thinking about it for days afterward.”
—io9.com
“Powerful… Carey writes with meditative grace, eroticism, and excitement… Moirin is a nuanced, sympathetic protagonist… While Carey’s fans will clamor for this, it’s also a good entry point for new readers.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Carey writes with an irresistible sense of adventure… Her world seems boundless.”
—“A.V. Club,” The Onion
“Carey begins her new series with a bang. Moirin is an exciting heroine who… playfully and passionately explores the sacredness of sexuality. Highly recommended.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“Jacqueline Carey has legions of fans hooked on her addictive fantasy epics chock full of political intrigue, steamy romance, and devilishly enthralling characterization… and she continues to crank out the hits.”
—Curve
“4 Stars! Readers are likely to find themselves carried away by the first book in the newest series set in Carey’s lushly imagined alternate Renaissance Europe… Densely plotted and with layers of nuance, this installment is a welcome addition to Carey’s oeuvre.”
—RT Book Reviews
“I was completely enthralled… A novel of pure adventure, with a kick-ass heroine who gets to fight, do magic, and get laid just like the swashbuckling heroes of old… a hell of a lot of fun.”
—io9.com
Unable to sleep, I stood in the stern of the ship, watching the past fall farther behind me. The moon was bright and full, turning the ship’s wake into a wide, silvery path on the dark water behind us. A handful of seagulls winged across the night sky, following us, their presence lending credence to the captain’s claim that we would make port in Marsilikos on the morrow.
A thousand thoughts and memories crowded my mind.
I tried to still them as Master Lo Feng had taught me, breathing the Five Styles and emptying my mind.
Tonight, it didn’t work.
Four years. By my best guess, that was how long it had been since I stepped onto a Ch’in greatship in the harbor of Marsilikos, and sailed off in pursuit of my everlasting destiny.
Now that same destiny was leading me back to Terre d’Ange, land of my father’s birth, where my patron-goddess Naamah held sway, worshipped as one of Blessed Elua’s Companions.
Naamah, goddess of desire; the bright lady. And Anael the Good Steward, the man with the seedling cupped in his hand, who had given me a gift for coaxing plants to grow.
The thought prompted a memory of marigolds exploding from the earth in a field in Bhaktipur, a riot of orange, saffron, and yellow, blooming in glorious profusion, all out of season. That, and the look of wonder on the Rani Amrita’s lovely face.
It made me smile wistfully. Bhaktipur was far, far behind me now. So were Amrita and her clever son, Ravindra, and the tulku Laysa, one of the reborn Enlightened Ones, who had told me I had oceans yet to cross.
So much lay behind me.
Villains and heroes, the kindness of ordinary folk—aye, and the pettiness and cruelty, too. Battles and intrigue, long, grueling journeys. Epic tales come to life, dire futures glimpsed and averted.
I leaned on the railing, remembering.
Beneath the moonlight, the ship sailed smoothly across the face of the sea. Its sounds had grown familiar; the creaking of timber and rope, the snap and flutter of the sail, the sleepy murmur of sailors on night-watch.
After a time, I sensed Bao’s approach, the divided half of my diadh-anam drawing nearer to me.
Bao, my husband.
Despite the long months that had passed since we were wed, I wasn’t accustomed to the word.
He came to stand beside me, gazing out at the silvery wake, his forearms braced on the railing and his shoulder brushing mine in a companionable manner. “Did you dream of her?” he asked in a low voice. “The White Queen?”
I shook my head. “Just restless.”
“Ah. With Terre d’Ange so close, I thought maybe…”
“I did, too.” I took a deep breath. “But no.”
Bao nodded, and said nothing. In the silence, his diadh-anam entwined with mine, a sensation as intimate as a caress.
Until I was a woman grown, I had not fully understood that most folk do not carry their diadh-anams within them. Although I was half-D’Angeline, Naamah’s child on my father’s side, I was born in Alba to the folk of the Maghuin Dhonn, the Great Bear Herself, who planted a spark of Her soul in each of Her children, a flickering inner light to guide us through our lives.
Never, ever had I heard of a diadh-anam being divided—but mine had been.
It had restored Bao to life.
The deed lay behind us in distant Ch’in, Bao’s homeland, farther in the receding past than Bhaktipur, where we had saved an empire and freed a dragon, where a sorcerer had slain Bao with a poisoned dart.
And Master Lo Feng, in his grief and sorrow, had used his arts and my magic to give his life and half my divine soul-spark to bring Bao back from the dead, inextricably linking our destinies.
Master Lo couldn’t have known that it would send his stubborn magpie of an assistant, a reformed prince of thugs, into headlong flight from a destiny he hadn’t chosen; nor that I would be compelled by my diadh-anam to follow him.
On the Tatar steppe at last we admitted to ourselves and each other that it was love, as well as Master Lo’s art, that bound us together. But as soon as we began to truly explore our bond, we were betrayed—me into the hands of a Yeshuite fanatic in northern Vralia, wrapped in chains that stifled my very soul-spark, while Bao was sent on a fruitless quest in the opposite direction to rescue me.
Still, in the end, we had found one another again. In the valley kingdom of Bhaktipur, we were wed.
Of course, our union was complicated by the fact that on the eve of our wedding, I was visited in my dreams by the ghost of Jehanne de la Courcel, the impossibly beautiful and highly mercurial D’Angeline queen I had loved so very much; and that Jehanne had told me I had unfinished business with a man both of us had loved, and would need her aid before it was over.
I stole a glance at Bao. His face was calm in the moonlight. Shadowed eyes; high, wide cheekbones; full lips. Moonlight silvered his unruly shock of black hair, glinted on the gold hoops in his earlobes and the bands of iron reinforcing the bamboo staff he wore lashed across his back.
He caught me looking, and raised his brows. “Like what you see, huh?” he asked in a teasing tone.
I tugged on one ear-hoop hard enough to make him wince. “Mayhap.”
Bao grinned. “You do.”
I slid one hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. “I do.”
He kissed me back, then pulled away, his expression turning serious. “It’s going to be hard for you, Moirin. Coming home.”
“Home.” The word escaped me in a sigh. “Terre d’Ange isn’t home, not really.”
“Alba?”
“Aye.” I gazed into the distance. “But…”
“Raphael de Mereliot.” Bao finished my unspoken thought for me. His mouth twisted. “That idiot Lord Lion Mane.”
I said nothing.
Raphael de Mereliot was the man that Jehanne and I had both loved—her favorite courtier, the man I had believed held my destiny for a time. Tall, tawny-haired Raphael de Mereliot with his healer’s hands. I’d let him use me, use my small gift of magic to augment his healing arts.
Together we had saved lives, including my father’s.
But I had let Raphael use me for other purposes, summoning fallen spirits filled with trickery. It had nearly killed me.
I had been very young, and very foolish.
Jehanne…
Ah, gods!
She had saved me from Raphael’s ambition, saved me from myself, claiming me for her own. And I had let her, gladly. She’d had a bower filled with plants made for me, granting me a safe haven. She had made me her royal companion. She had trusted me to be there for her when she honored her promise to her husband, King Daniel de la Courcel, setting aside Raphael de Mereliot and praying to Eisheth to open the gates of her womb, that she might bear the King a child.
But I had left her.
And while I was on the far side of the world, pursuing my everlasting destiny, Jehanne had died in childbirth.
If I had been there, we could have saved her, Raphael and I.
I wept.
Bao’s arms encircled me. He spoke no words of false comfort, only breathed the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves, drawn in through the nostrils into the pit of the belly, expelled through the mouth.
Slowly, slowly, as I had done so many times before, I matched my breathing to his, my thoughts growing calm.
The ship swayed and creaked beneath us. The past continued to draw farther and farther away, the shining trail of wake etched in the moonlight, ever fading behind us and drawn anew.
I wiped my eyes. “Thank you.”
Bao nodded. “I am here, Moirin.”
My breath caught in my throat. Those were words I had spoken to Jehanne many times—and they had always been true, until they were not. I turned in Bao’s arms, studying his face, wondering if he knew. “You are, aren’t you?”
A wry smile lingered on his lips. “Try getting rid of me.”
“Oh…” I reached up to tweak his ear-hoops again, then tugged his head down for another kiss. “I’d rather not.”
Bao laughed softly.
The ship sailed onward, rendering the past a series of memories, carrying us toward a new destiny.
I prayed that for once, the gods would be merciful.
But I doubted it.
Come daybreak, we saw the distant harbor.
Marsilikos.
The golden dome of the palace of the Lady of Marsilikos gleamed in the early autumn sunlight, a beacon to sailors everywhere. I’d been there once, and it wasn’t a good memory. Raphael de Mereliot’s sister Eleanore ruled Marsilikos, and she’d had me summoned to upbraid me for ruining her brother’s reputation. I’d lost my temper and shouted at her, telling her some unpleasant truths about her brother.
I wasn’t looking forward to a repeat encounter.
It was early afternoon when we made port. I hoped we would be able to disembark without fanfare. The ship was a Bhodistani trade-ship, our passage having been arranged by the Rani Amrita’s family in the coastal city of Galanka. I’d thought Bao and I might slip out of the harbor unnoticed among the sailors and traders; but it was not to be. No sooner had we arrived on the quay, surrounded by our trunks carried by Captain Ramchandra’s able sailors, than a horde of sharp-eyed, half-grown youths descended on us, shouting offers.
“Hey, messire, hey, messire! Best price porter, best guide! Best lodging for you and the noble lady!”
Bao caught my eye and grinned. “I told you not to wear so much jewelry.”
I spared a glance at the bangles that adorned my wrist: the jade bangle the color of a reflecting pool that had been a gift from our Ch’in princess Snow Tiger, the many gold bangles Amrita had insisted on gifting me. “True.”
The young mercenaries pressed closer, clamoring. With one fluid motion, Bao whipped his bamboo staff loose over his back, twirling it before him so fast it was a blur that made the air sing.
Our would-be porters and guides yelped with alarm and delight, jumping backward and falling silent.
Bao’s grin widened. “So!” He planted the butt of his staff on the quay with a resounding thud. “I am the best at what I do. Which of you is the best at what you do?”
A copper-haired youth with eyes almost as green as mine stepped forward without hesitating. “Me, messire!” He jerked his head, and four more youths fell in behind him. “You want the best of everything for you and the beautiful lady? Best guide, best lodging?” With a smile that managed to be at once sly, reverent, and wise beyond his years, he kissed his fingertips. “Best pleasure-houses for a noble foreign couple? Oh, yes! Let Leo be your guide.”
I hid a smile of my own. Only in Terre d’Ange would a stripling street-lad offer to escort an apparently high-born couple to a pleasure-house within seconds of their arrival. “Lodging first,” I said firmly. “Anyplace with a nice bathing-chamber.”
The lad Leo blinked in surprise at my near-flawless D’Angeline accent. It wasn’t my mother-tongue, but I’d learned to speak it at an early age, and Bao and I had been practicing on the ship to improve his fluency. Leo gave me an appraising look, seeing past the foreign bangles and jewelry, past the bright orange and gold-trimmed silks I wore wrapped and draped in the Bhodistani fashion, past my honey-colored skin and black hair, registering my half-D’Angeline features. His brow furrowed in confusion. “You speak awfully good for a foreigner, madame.”
“She’s not a foreigner,” a new voice said behind us. “Not exactly.”
I turned to see the harbor-master, a stern-faced fellow I vaguely recognized from four years ago.
He inclined his head to me. “Lady Moirin mac Fainche, I believe. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, messire.” I raised my brows at the coolness of his tone. “You do not come bearing another summons, I hope? I do not wish to trouble the Lady of Marsilikos with my presence.”
“No.” A shadow of sorrow crossed his features. “I fear the Duchese Eleanore de Mereliot succumbed to a grave illness these two years gone by.”
“Oh!” My breath caught in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “Did Raphael inherit—” Belatedly, I remembered that Marsilikos was always ruled by a woman, and the question died on my lips.
The harbor-master shook his head. “No. Her Grace the Duchese Laurentine de Mereliot, a near kinswoman, rules in Marsilikos now.”
Despite everything, my heart ached a little for Raphael. He had lost so very, very much in his lifetime. “I’m sorry,” I repeated inadequately. “So he’s… he’s not here, is he?”
Beside me, Bao shifted slightly. He disliked Raphael de Mereliot, and for good reason, but I had to ask. Whatever the unfinished business between us was, I’d as soon see it swiftly concluded.
“You hadn’t heard?” The harbor-master looked surprised for a moment. “No, but of course, you’ve been away, or you’d have known about the Lady. Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking. After his sister’s death, Lord Raphael joined the Dauphin’s expedition to Terra Nova.”
Ah, gods! My heart sank, and Bao gave me a stricken glance. The vast lands of Terra Nova, only discovered within my lifetime, lay on the far side of the world.
But the harbor-master was still speaking. “… expedition is due to return in the spring.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Gods be thanked! That’s good news, then.”
“Indeed.” The man looked uncomfortable. Based on my unfortunate history with House Mereliot, he might not have been kindly disposed to me, but he wasn’t heartless. “Lady Moirin, Terre d’Ange has suffered other losses in your absence. Were you aware that Queen Jehanne…?” Like me earlier, he let the sentence dangle unfinished.
“Aye,” I murmured. “That, I heard.”
He straightened his shoulders. “Well, then. I would not be remiss in my duty to a descendant of House Courcel.” He gestured at young Leo and his crew of street-lads, listening and gaping silently. “Shall I disperse this ragtag rabble for you? I can assign a cadre of guards to assist you with your needs.”
I hesitated.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Bao interjected, slinging one arm over Leo’s shoulders, causing the lad’s eyes to brighten. “We like… how do you say it? Ragtag rabble.”
The harbor-master bowed formally. “As you wish.”
After he took his leave, we said our thanks and farewells to Captain Ramchandra, who had escorted us safely to these shores. He bowed to us in the Bhodistani manner, his palms pressed together.
“It has been my very great honor!” he said. “I give thanks to you for restoring Kamadeva’s diamond to its proper place.”
Bao glanced sidelong at me, amused.
I cleared my throat. “It was our honor to do so.”
We had done that, Bao and I. The Rani Amrita had charged us with the task of returning Kamadeva’s diamond, a black jewel forged from the ashes of the Bhodistani god of desire, to the temple from which it had been stolen by Jagrati, a woman reckoned by her own people to be untouchable. I had carried it in a locked coffer for leagues upon leagues, fearful of its temptations.
All too well, I knew its power.
So did Bao, better than I did.
But we had carried it willingly for the sake of our lady Amrita; she who had withstood its allure when Jagrati the Spider Queen bore it; she who had had the strength to surrender it. In the temple where it had resided for many, many hundreds of years, we watched the priests break open the coffer, daring with trembling hands to transfer the diamond with its fiery heart filled with dark, shifting hues into the cupped and open hands of the god Shiva’s effigy.
There, it resided—a blessing ready to be invoked by all who sought it, and not a weapon to be wielded by any one soul.
The bright lady had approved.
“Hey, lady!” young Leo called breathlessly, trotting beneath the weight of one of our trunks. “I know who you are! I remember!”
“Oh, you do, do you?” I glanced at him. He couldn’t have been more than nine or ten when I’d left Terre d’Ange, but there was no underestimating the D’Angeline capacity for gossip.
“Oh, aye!” His face was flushed, but his eyes shone. “It was when the biggest ship in the world was in the harbor! D’ye remember, Michel?” he asked one of his companions. The other lad grunted in assent. “We went to look at it every day! From Ch’in, they said. You look like one of their sailors,” he added to Bao.
“Was he uncommonly handsome?” Bao inquired cheerfully.
“No!” Leo’s flush deepened. “I mean, not like one particular fellow. You look like all of them.”
Bao raised his brows at me.
“Uncommonly handsome,” I assured him.
“Anyway,” Leo continued heedlessly, “I remember! We went to watch the ship set sail, too. It was like watching a floating palace set out to sea! And everyone said that half-breed”—he lowered his voice—“bear-witch who summoned demons and ruined Lord Raphael and seduced the Queen was being sent away on the ship! That was you, wasn’t it?”
I sighed. “First of all, they were fallen spirits, not demons—”
He interrupted me. “What’s the difference?”
“Ah… I’m not sure,” I admitted. “At any rate, I didn’t summon them, I just… helped.”
“Those idiots couldn’t have done a thing without you,” Bao scoffed. “Your magic opened the doorway that let the demon through.”
“You’re not helping,” I informed him.
“So you really can do magic?” one of the other lads asked, wide-eyed. He stumbled over a cobblestone, and would have dropped the trunk he was carrying if Bao hadn’t caught it. “Can you turn into a bear?” He looked excited and horrified at the thought.
“No,” I said gently. “The Maghuin Dhonn Herself took that gift away from us long before I was born. Do you know the story of Prince Imriel?” All of them nodded; it was one of the great tales of Terre d’Ange. “Well, that’s why She took it away. Now all my people have left is a small gift for magic meant to conceal and protect us.”
“But it can be used for other things, too,” Bao added. “Good and bad. Moirin was very foolish to use it to help summon demons, but it was not her idea. It was your Lord Raphael’s idea. And she was not sent away. She left to accompany me and my wise mentor, Master Lo Feng, to save a princess and rescue a dragon in faraway Ch’in.” He gave me an inquiring look. “Better?”
“Better,” I agreed.
The lads looked skeptical. “There’s no such thing as a dragon,” Leo said.
“Oh, there is!” Bao grinned. “Maybe not here, but in Ch’in. We have ridden in one’s claw as he soared through the sky and called the thunderstorms.”
“Also, I did not seduce the Queen,” I put in stubbornly. They blinked at me, having forgotten the initial topic in the talk of dragons and faraway lands. “Queen Jehanne,” I reminded them. “Tell me, does her daughter thrive?”
Leo nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, madame! They call her the Little Pearl. She is much beloved in the City of Elua.”
“And his majesty King Daniel?”
He hesitated. “It is said he is… sad. He grieves deeply for the loss of the Queen, and he quarreled bitterly with the Dauphin when Prince Thierry insisted on leading an expedition to Terra Nova.”
I fell silent, thinking and remembering while Leo pressed Bao for more talk of dragons and cursed princesses.
I hadn’t known Daniel de la Courcel well, but I had liked him. Even before Jehanne’s death, sorrow at the loss of his first wife, Prince Thierry’s mother, had marked him. He was a grave and honorable man whose only fault, if it could be called one, was that he was overly cautious. While other countries had launched explorations into Terra Nova, and Thierry had pressed for the right to do the same, King Daniel had refused to allow it.
Not until Jehanne conceived had Daniel relented, promising to let his firstborn son and heir sail off in pursuit of glory if a second child was born hale, securing the line of succession.
Knowing of him what I did, I could well imagine Daniel would have had a change of heart upon Jehanne’s death. He had loved and lost two women; I did not think he had it in him to risk losing a third. He would have refused to remarry and he would have wanted to keep both his heirs close and safe.
But it seemed Thierry had held his father to his word, and now he was in Terra Nova—and Raphael with him.
“Moirin?” Bao’s voice broke my reverie. “We have reached the inn. Do you find it acceptable, or do you wish to inspect the bathing-chamber?”
Meeting his gaze, I saw the sincere concern behind his jesting, and summoned a smile. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
He nodded. “I told you this homecoming would be hard.”
“Aye.” I took a deep breath. “So you did.”
The inn was fine; more than fine.
An hour after our arrival, I sank into the depths of a generous marble tub, submerging my entire body. I scrubbed months’ worth of shipboard grime from my skin and washed my salt-stiffened hair. Servants of the inn brought bucket after bucket of freshly heated water to replace the dirty water, until the chamber was filled with steam.
The third time they entered, Bao followed.
“Come to join me?” I inquired.
He flashed a grin at me. “Uh-huh. Think there’s room?”
I smiled. “Aye, I do.”
The attendants left, giggling as Bao began to strip off the embroidered Bhodistani tunic and breeches he wore, revealing his lean-muscled fighter’s body. He paused, gazing at me with half-lidded eyes. “You look like something out of those stories sailors tell. What is the word in D’Angeline?”
I stirred the water. “Mermaid?”
“That’s it.” He climbed into the opposite end of the marble tub, dunking his whole head, coming up streaming water. “Soap?”
“Here.” I handed the ball of soap to him and watched him wash, taking pleasure in the sight. The black zig-zag tattoos he had acquired in Kurugiri stood out in stark contrast against the brown skin of his corded forearms, marking the way up and down a secret passage through a mountainous labyrinth, at the top of which the Spider Queen Jagrati and her husband the Falconer made their lair. Or at least they had, until we overthrew them with the help of the Rani Amrita and her army.
We had lived through a lot together, Bao and I.
“Do you ever think of her?” I asked him.
He followed my gaze, lifting one arm and letting it drop. “Jagrati? Sometimes, yes. I try not to. Why?”
I shrugged. Bao had spent long months under her thrall, bound by Kamadeva’s diamond and opium. Believing me dead, he had been content to wallow in darkness. “I just wondered.”
Bao leaned against the back of the tub. “Your presence keeps the memories away, Moirin,” he said in a serious manner; and then his grin returned. “Leo asked me if I was a prince in my own land. I told him that I was, but I gave up my kingdom to be with you.”
I raised my brows. “That is stretching the truth, my magpie.”
“Only a little,” he said in an unrepentant tone. “I’m sure the Great Khan would have gifted me with a territory of my own if I had remained wed to his daughter.”
“It’s possible,” I admitted.
“Anyway, Leo thought it was a very admirable story.” Bao nudged me with one foot. “Am I royalty now that I’m wed to you?”
“Does it matter?” I asked.
His dark eyes gleamed. “No, of course not. I only wondered if I was entitled to be called Lord Bao.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, well.” Bao gave a good-natured shrug. “Still, pretty good for a bastard peasant-boy with no family name.”
“I’ve no lands to my name, you know,” I commented. “None of the Maghuin Dhonn do. We are allowed to dwell in the wild places of Alba in the terms of a sacred trust forged by Alais the Wise many years ago, but we do not own them. I have no title. Lady Moirin is just an honorific acknowledging my heritage.”
“I am only teasing, Moirin.” Bao leaned forward, tugging me so that I slid to straddle his waist. Water slopped over the edges of the tub. Intensity heated his gaze. “I love you, and I would choose to be with you whether in a slum or a cave or a palace. All right?”
I cupped his face and kissed him. “Aye.”
His callused hands slid over my slippery skin, creating a glorious friction. I rubbed myself against him, feeling his arousal.
One of the inn’s servants opened the door to the bathing-chamber, then closed it with a soft laugh.
Bao reached down into the bath-water, grasping his taut phallus, fitting the swollen head between my nether-lips. “You see?” His other hand slid around the nape of my neck, pulling me down for a kiss as he pushed himself into me. “For you, I will even learn to be more like a D’Angeline.” His hips thrust upward. “Depraved and scandalous.”
I drew a long, shuddering breath as he filled me, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Indeed.”
He smiled. “I have always been a clever student.”
Laughing, the bright lady agreed.
In the morning, with young Leo’s eager aid, we set about procuring passage overland to the City of Elua.
After the close quarters I had endured on the ship, I could not bear the thought of being cloistered in a carriage for days. Mercifully, Bao understood, knowing that there was a part of me that chafed at being confined, all the more so since the ordeal I had undergone in Vralia.
So it was that we bartered with a horse-trader that Leo assured us was reputable for a pair of saddle-horses and a pair of pack-horses. Bao watched with considerable
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Naamah's Blessing
Jacqueline Carey
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