Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [51]
My father smiled. “I rather like that young man.”
“He rather likes you,” I said. “I think you may have been the first D’Angeline he did like. I certainly wasn’t.”
He laughed, too. “Well, he’s more than changed his mind on that score. You’ve done well together, the two of you.” His expression turned serious. “I’m very proud of the way you’ve dealt with this business, Moirin. You’ve handled it with grace and thoughtfulness.”
I kissed his cheek. “Thank you. It means a good deal to me to know you think so.”
“I do,” he affirmed.
Plans continued apace, secretive and otherwise.
Benoit Vallon summoned Bao and me to Atelier Favrielle for a fitting. Like all his work, the wardrobe he had created for Bao was elegant in its simplicity: close-fitting black breeches that tucked into boots, and creamy white shirts that lay open at the neck, with a bare minimum of ruffle at the cuff. He’d sewn the black-and-white magpie square onto the back of a black velvet coat that fell to knee-length, also fitted, but loose enough to permit freedom of movement. It looked D’Angeline, but it spoke of Ch’in, too.
“I like it,” Bao said decisively, examining himself in the mirror and adjusting his cuffs. “I like it very much. Moirin?”
“You look splendid,” I assured him.
He preened. “I do, don’t I?”
For me, the couturier had created a series of gowns in deep jewel-toned hues: emerald, ruby, amethyst. He had used the sari fabric as subtle accents to complement the gowns, hints of their ornate richness revealed in the borders and linings. I had to own, it was a clever usage, though I was glad I’d kept a few back.
“This is what you will wear to the oath-swearing ceremony, my lady,” Benoit announced, a gown of pale gold brocade fabric over his arm.
It was the piece on which he had used the square of embroidered bamboo, cutting it apart and reassembling it as a high collar that framed my face. The green and gold silk harmonized surprisingly well with the gold brocade.
“Very nice.” Benoit fussed with the collar. “You see the effect it creates? As though you are rising from a bamboo grove like some… some exotic young goddess.” He scowled uncertainly at my reflection. “Are you angry that I did not keep the square intact?”
It was the first time I’d ever heard him sound nervous. “No, Messire Vallon,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
His scowl vanished. “Ah, good! My thought was to use both pieces in a symbolic manner.” He laid one hand on Bao’s shoulder. “The magpie square represents the love of your distant mother, spread across your shoulders like a protective cloak. And this…” He traced the line of my bamboo-embroidered collar. “This represents the embrace of your distant sister, placing her arms around your neck.”
My breath caught in my throat as I thought of Bao’s mother and sister; so far away, so briefly met. It was unlikely we’d ever see them again. “Oh, that’s lovely! Thank you, Messire Vallon.”
Bao nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Very lovely. Thank you for honoring them.”
Benoit Vallon’s scowl returned. “Oh, now! If you want to thank me, you’ll grant me an invitation to the ceremony.” He gave a loud sniff. “I’d rather not have to take my chances on the lottery like the common rabble.”
I smiled at him. “I will see that an invitation is delivered on the morrow, Messire Vallon.”
He gave another resounding sniff. “Good.”
NINETEEN
Aweek before the oath-swearing ceremony, a lottery was held for the commonfolk of the City. By the excitement it generated, I daresay it was one of the better ideas Lianne Tremaine had given me.
The royal theater in which the ceremony and ensuing celebratory spectacle was to take place had seats for two hundred, with standing room for another fifty or so. While the seats were reserved for peers of the realm, King Daniel had agreed that invitations for