Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [230]
Hearing their names spoken, both the Nahuatl inclined their heads and flicked their fingers toward their chests and brows.
“I owe my safe return to the Maidens of the Sun in faraway Tawantinsuyo,” Thierry said softly. “And most especially to one who made a great sacrifice on behalf of her people; and to Messire Bao of Ch’in, who made a sacrifice that must have been equally difficult in its own way.”
It was so quiet in the throne-room, you could have heard a pin drop, the peers of the realm hanging on every word.
Thierry took a deep breath. “Above all, I owe my safe return to my kinswoman Moirin mac Fainche, who had the courage to have faith in her visions.” Turning toward me, he offered a courtly bow. “Never again let the name of the Maghuin Dhonn be spoken in fear and superstition, but with honor and profound respect.”
It touched me, soothing an ache so deep I hadn’t known it was there, bringing tears to my eyes.
“I know many of you did not support Moirin’s mission,” Thierry continued, overriding murmurs of protest. “Have no fear. I will hold no man nor woman to blame in this matter. It was well nigh an impossible quest, and I may well have counseled against it myself.” He gazed into the distance. “But I am not the man I was. I have seen the impossible. I have seen great and terrible wonders, and I tell you, the world is a vaster and stranger place than ever I had reckoned.”
Lost in his memories, he was silent for a moment, and then his gaze returned from the distance.
“Upon hearing the losses we suffered, you may wonder if this quest was worthwhile,” Thierry said. “I stand before you to say that it was. Not because I was rescued.” He shook his head. “I would not set such a price on my life. And not because the hold of the Naamah’s Dove is filled with trade goods from Terra Nova, exotic spices and seedlings and gold ore—although it is.”
At that, there were gasps of excitement.
Thierry permitted himself a slight smile. “But I fear the full telling of this impossible tale will have to wait, for it is too long and strange to relate here. For now, let it suffice to say that I am very, very grateful to be home.”
It was Balthasar Shahrizai who gave the first cheer, an uncharacteristically boyish whoop of triumph.
“All hail his highness Prince Thierry!” he shouted. “Long live his majesty King Thierry de la Courcel!”
Other voices took up the cheer, chanting and clapping, laughing and weeping with sheer release until the marble halls of the throne-room echoed with the sound; and if it was no less joyous and heartfelt than the reunion in Orgullo del Sol, it was better and bigger, for this time we were home, truly home, and Desirée stood at my side, still clinging to my hand, her face alight with hope.
For my part, I shouted Thierry’s name until my throat was raw, my heart filled with gladness.
At last, the hall quieted.
In the silence, Thierry took his seat on the empty throne of Terre d’Ange. He beckoned to his young sister, who went willingly to stand beside him.
Despite his lack of a crown, he looked very much like a king.
Glancing at Desirée, Thierry smiled at her. She returned his smile, her blue-grey eyes shining at him, the very picture of her mother in miniature.
I will own, I could not help but feel a faint pang of jealousy. Looking sidelong at Bao, I saw the same emotion reflected on his face. He squared his shoulders and we exchanged shrugs of rueful understanding.
All was right.
All was as it should be.
And for the first time since I’d passed through the stone doorway some seven years gone by, my diadh-anam was quiet within my breast, a steady, contented flicker assuring me of the enduring love of