Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [23]
“Do I overstep my bounds, my lord?” I asked him honestly.
“No more than I had hoped.” Daniel de la Courcel poked at the fire a second time, then settled into the chair opposite me, gazing into the shifting embers in the grate. “Moirin, do you know of the Montrèvan Oath?”
I shook my head. “No, my lord.”
He gave a faint smile. “It began when Anafiel Delaunay de Montrève… Have you heard of him?” I nodded. “Ah, good. When Anafiel Delaunay, for he was disinherited at the time, swore an oath to Rolande de la Courcel”—the King counted on his fingers—“my thrice-times great-grandfather… swore an oath to protect the interests of Rolande’s infant daughter Ysandre.”
“I know the story,” I murmured.
He nodded. “That oath was sworn in secret. But it formed the basis for a new tradition begun by Sidonie and Imriel de la Courcel, who openly invited their kinsman Barquiel L’Envers to be the oath-sworn protector of their firstborn child.”
“Your grandmother Anielle?”
“Even so.” Daniel de la Courcel sighed. “And if I read the histories rightly, it was meant to acknowledge the healing of a rift between House Courcel and House L’Envers. Since then, it has become something of a political prize to be won.”
“Oh?” I inquired.
The King leveled his gaze at me. “When Thierry was born, I appointed my kinsman Rogier Courcel, the Duc de Barthelme, to be the oath-sworn protector of my firstborn son. This charge, he accepted with grace and gratitude. He swore the Montrèvan Oath.”
“Do you doubt him?” I asked softly.
“No.” He leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. “Not his loyalty, no. I would never have appointed him Lord Minister if I did. But my daughter, Jehanne’s daughter…” His fingers clenched, bunching the fabric of his breeches. His voice broke. “She should have an oath-sworn protector who cares for her happiness. Someone like you, Moirin.”
I saw the picture he was painting.
“My lord!” I said in protest. “Oh, my lord! It is a great honor you offer, but I cannot promise to stay with her. My home lies in Alba, and I mean to return there in the spring, at least for a time. And…” I touched my chest. “There is the matter of my inconvenient destiny, which I do not think is finished with me. What if it calls me away from her side… as it did—as it did from her mother’s?”
King Daniel de la Courcel’s gaze was unwavering. “And yet it brought you back, too. I am not asking you to stay with her, Moirin. I am asking you to love her. Will you?”
I sighed. “How can I do otherwise?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Before you accept, hear me out in full. I fear this will not be a popular decision. You’re a descendant of House Courcel, but you’re a young woman without land or a title. You’re only half-D’Angeline—”
“And the other half Maghuin Dhonn,” I said wryly. “Believe me, my lord, I know the regard in which my mother’s folk are held.”
Daniel nodded. “Many will claim I chose you out of sentimental folly. It’s likely to cause a scandal, and I daresay you’ve had your fill of those. That’s why I make this offer in private. If you wish to decline, I will understand. No one else need ever know this conversation took place.”
“Are you sure it’s not sentimental folly?” I asked him.
“No.” His expression was candid. “Not entirely. But sentimental folly lies at the heart of all that is good in Terre d’Ange.”
“Love as thou wilt,” I murmured.
“Yes.” He fixed me with his unblinking gaze. “So, Moirin. Do you accept or decline?”
My diadh-anam flickered, but it gave no guidance, merely warned me that this was a decision of moment, and my own to make. “If I accept, does it grant me the authority to replace the head nursemaid?”
He gave me his faint smile. “And the tutor, too, if you deem her unsuitable.”
It occurred to me that I should talk to Bao before making such a grave decision; and then I thought twice, and knew what he would say. For all his teasing ways, Bao had a hero’s romantic heart. He wouldn’t hesitate. “I accept.”
The King inclined his head. “I will make the announcement, and see that a date is set for the ceremony.”
NINE
While I waited