Naamah's Kiss (81 page)

"Then it is your father who is of royal blood?" The princess sounded perplexed. "The father you discovered in Terre d'Ange? I do recall you shouting at me about him."

I flushed, embarrassed at the memory. "No, no. My father is a Priest of Naamah."

She leaned back against the seat. "I am very confused."

"I'm sorry, my lady."

Snow Tiger dismissed my apology with a gesture. "You may as well explain it to me. We have a long journey, and" She paused, her voice taking on a wistful tone. "Despite your peculiar accent, I find I like hearing your stories. No one has told me a story since I was a very small girl."

And so I told her tales for the remainder of the day's journey, spinning out the complicated history of my ancestry, the tale of my parents' unlikely encounter, my search to find my father in the City of Elua although I left out the more uncanny details of my complicated relationship with Raphael de Mereliot and I did not explain how I came to be Queen Jehanne's companion.

Still, it was enough.

She listened to it all with a sense of mortified wonder. "Are they all so licentious? D'Angelines?"

"They do not reckon it so." I rubbed my face beneath the veil, having talked myself hoarse. "Nor do I. Blessed Elua bade them to love, and they we do. I have felt Naamah's blessing upon me. I do believe there is divine purpose in it, my lady." Before she could reply, the carriage came to a halt. I peered out the window. It was dusk, true dusk, and we were in the rustic courtyard of the abandoned farmstead.

Tortoise rapped on the carriage door, his homely face appearing in the window, expression uncertain. "Noble ah, Lady Chan? We have arrived."

"Yes, thank you," I said to him. "Give us a moment."

Two more figures emerged from the farmstead's main lodging, bearing paper lanterns that cast a warm glowtwo of Bao's stick-fighters who would not accompany us on the rest of the journey, but allies and hopeless romantics nonetheless.

"Is she here?" one called. "Is the Noble Princess here?"

"She's here!" Ten Tigers Dai called in eager reply.

"They should see me as I am," Snow Tiger said decisively, untying the sash on the oversized green robe and shrugging out of it. "It is the daughter of the Son of Heaven they have agreed to aid, not this Lady Chan Song. Is it safe here?"

I peered out the window again. "I think so, yes."

She set aside the veiled hat, closing her eyes tight and tying her crimson scarf over them. "Then let me meet my unlikely heroes."

They cheered boisterously when she exited the carriagecheered, and then fell silent and knelt in awe. I did not blame them. Slender and upright, crimson-robed and blindfolded, her scabbard clenched in her right fist, the princess was a picture from a story.

I hoped it would be a happy story.

I watched the men's rapt faces as they fell in love with her, one by one.

"Gentlemen." The princess inclined her head to them, the trailing ends of her blindfold swaying. "I am in your debt," she said simply. "And all I can say is thank you."

They cheered again.

"Moirin." She reached out with her free hand. "Forgive me, but the terrain is unfamiliar."

I settled her hand on my sleeve. "I am here."

Bao and Master Lo were late in arriving. It was an anxious, uncomfortable time. Everyone was restless and uneasy. The stick-fighters remained awestruck by Snow Tiger's presence, rendered tongue-tied and uncertain, stumbling over themselves.

Despite her regal demeanor, the princess was nervous. I daresay the men couldn't tell, but I'd come to know her well enough that I could; and too, I could sense the restlessness it engendered in the dragon.

Soon ? he asked me for the tenth time.

"Soon," I assured him, hoping it was true. What in the name of all the gods we would do if Master Lo and Bao didn't arrive, I couldn't say. The prospect filled me with quiet dread. I did my best to contain it, but as the hours wore onward, I was hard-pressed to maintain a semblance of calm. When at last the door opened to admit them, a cry of relief escaped me.

Beneath the broad brim of a woven straw hat, Bao's eyes gleamed. "Did you think we would not come?"

"I was afraid," I admitted.

He slid one arm around my waist, stroking my hair with his other hand. I pressed my face against his neck, inhaling the faint forge and metal scent of his skin. "I would not let that happen, Moirin."

It was as close as Bao had ever come to a declaration of love. My heart leapt unexpectedly and I glanced up at him. He gave me a faint, wry smile I very much wanted to kiss.

"He does not like that." The princess' voice was stiff. I turned to see her on her feet, her blindfolded face turned toward us. The dragon roiled unhappily inside her. "Not at all."

"Noble Princess" Bao released me and began to kneel.

"No." She put out one hand. "Do not address me so. I ask only that you restrain yourselves." A little shudder ran though her. "I do not mean to impose on you, but it will make it easier for all of us if you do not disturb him."

"They shall, my lady." Master Lo Feng removed the rough-spun garment he wore over his scholar's robes. He gave Bao and me a warning glance, then swept the room with it to include the other fighters. "All of them shall. We leave this place as monks on the Path of Dharma, sworn to celibacy. From this moment forward, you will view no woman as an object of desire, but as treasured sisters to revere. Is that clear?"

The men mumbled agreement, a couple of them blushing to hear such words spoken in the presence of the princess.

The dragon settled.

"Very good." Master Lo folded his hands in his sleeves. "It is late. I fear we were unavoidably delayed, but all is well."

"The innkeeper's wife had many ailments she wished to discuss with Master Lo," Bao murmured to me. "Many, many ailments. It was a long time before we were able to escape her attention and don our disguises."

"Is my father searching for me?" Snow Tiger asked hesitantly.

"His men follow the trail Bao and I laid for them," Master Lo confirmed. "In the morning, I suspect they will broaden their search. If you would heed my counsel, my lady, I suggest all of us take a few hours of sleep and depart before dawn."

She nodded. "So be it."

The farmstead was a simple, rustic place with only one bedchamber. The princess and I retired to it. Bao appointed himself to guard the door, dozing before it, staff held loosely in his hands. I made myself a pallet of blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting and watching out of the corner of my eye as the princess paced the room, paused, then tugged decisively at the sash of her crimson robes, undoing jeweled buttons.

"My lady, would you like me to assist"

"No." Her tone was curt. "I have long since grown accustomed to attending to my own needs."

"I am here to serve you," I said diplomatically. "For whatever reason your gods and mine decree."

"I know." Her voice softened. The bed creaked as she climbed into it, pulling the linens to her chin. "Forgive me. You meant it as a kindness. I do not mean to seem ungrateful. It's just that this is all so very, very strange to me. I find it hard to imagine myself doing such a thing. And yet here I am."

"I know," I echoed. If she had been anyone else, I would have gone to her, offered the simple comfort of a warm, living presence. But she was a princess of Ch'in and the daughter of the Son of Heaven, and I'd already pressed my limit today by taking her hand in the carriage. Instead, I curled up in my bed of blankets, willing sleep to come.

"Have you concluded that you love him?" Her voice drifted down from the darkness above me. Bao?

"Who else?" There was a hint of amusement in it. "You may answer. The dragon sleeps."

"Oh" I sighed into the night, reliving that unexpected moment that had made my heart leap with joy. "Mayhap. I don't know. More, I think, than I reckoned. If I do, it's nothing like the tales I've heard led me to expect."

She sighed, too. "I suspect nothing ever is."

"Your husband," I said softly, daring a different kind of intimacy. "You spoke of him as someone you might have learned to love. Was that not as you expected?"

For a long moment, Snow Tiger was silent, and I thought mayhap I had overstepped my bounds. "I expected my father to choose a warrior," she said at length, her voice almost inaudible. "Jiang Jian was a scholar and a poet, happier with an ink-brush in his hand than a sword. We met several times with attendants present before we wed. To my surprise, I liked him very much. He was kind, polite, and respectful. We spoke of our favorite poems. His intellect challenged me. His passion pleased and inspired me."

"Was he handsome?" I asked. It was a shallow question, but I did not think it would displease her.

"Yes," she whispered in the darkness. "He had the kindest, gentlest eyes, like one who has lived many lives. Perhaps Master Lo Feng looked thusly as a young man. I think I think that because Jiang Jian had a gentle spirit, my father thought him weak. A husband I could control. And perhaps that is also why his own father valued him so lightly. But I did not find him weak. Not at all. I thought he had a keen mind and a calm, quiet strength of his own. And on our wedding night, before what happened" She was silent for another long moment. "I think we would have been well matched in many ways."

The spectre of her memory arosethe blood-soaked bed, torn flesh, and dismembered limbs. I swallowed hard. "I'm so very sorry."

"I know." Snow Tiger stirred. "Moirin, I do not think I can speak of this any longer."

"Aye, my lady," I murmured. "Forgive me for troubling your thoughts. It is late. Let us try to sleep."

Despite everything, we did.

I awoke in the small hours of the morning to a faint scratching at the door and opened it to find Bao looking oddly apologetic, a pair of shears in his hand. In the primary chamber of the farmstead, the transformation of the men of our company into Dharma monks had begun. Already, they had donned the loose, undyed jackets and trousers of a travelling order. Now they turned their attention to their hair. I saw Ten Tigers Dai wince with visible dismay as his braid of glossy black hair was severed at a single chop.