Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [7]
The next day, I’d left the City of Elua, bound for Ch’in, called to destiny by my diadh-anam.
I remembered how Jehanne had insisted on giving me a royal escort to the gates of the City. She had made a production of bidding me farewell so that everyone would know I wasn’t leaving in disgrace, had kissed me, and given me a bottle of her perfume to remember her by.
I had it still.
And if Jehanne had lived, it might have been enough. Despite whatever cloud of rumor hung over me when I departed, I would be returning in triumph to a royal favorite’s welcome. But I had left, and Jehanne had died.
It was enough to make folks eye me with resentment and suspicion; and to be honest, I couldn’t blame them for it. It might not be fair, but I blamed myself, too.
“You could disguise yourself,” Bao suggested at the end of our second day on the road. “Dress like a respectable matron.”
I stroked the edge of the green silk sari I wore, another gift from our lady Amrita. The border was a handspan deep with gold embroidery. “Do you think it would help?”
“No,” he said honestly. “Not really. You couldn’t look respectable if you tried, Moirin.”
I sighed.
“Moirin.” Bao pulled me close. “You are Emperor Zhu’s jade-eyed witch, who freed a dragon and saved an empire. You are the Rani Amrita’s dakini, who helped conquer Kurugiri and rescue Kamadeva’s diamond.” He kissed me, then looked serious. “Do not forget these things are true.”
I ran my fingers through his thick, unruly hair. “Remind me again?”
He lowered his head to kiss me again. “Anytime, my disreputable wife.”
Despite everything, it made me laugh.
FOUR
Some days later, we presented ourselves at the southern gate of the City of Elua.
“Lady Moirin mac Fainche.” The guard said my name slowly, looking me up and down. His expression was unreadable. “So it’s true. You have returned to the City of Elua, my lady?”
“I have.” There was a chill in the autumn air. I fought the urge to grip my Bhaktipuran coat of colorful squares of padded silk more tightly closed against it, holding the guard’s gaze instead.
His gaze slid sideways away from mine, settling on Bao. “And…?”
My peasant-boy turned Tatar prince sat on his horse with careless grace, easy in the saddle, his bamboo staff strapped across his back. Gold hoops glinted in his ears, and his tattooed forearms showed beneath the wide cuffs of his embroidered tunic. He looked very, very foreign in this setting. “Bao.”
“Bao,” the guard repeated in an uncertain tone. “You must be—”
“My husband,” I supplied helpfully.
“Just… Bao?”
I glanced at Bao, who shrugged and raised his brows. “I have had other names,” he admitted, affecting a look of innocent candor. “But that is the one my mother called me. Is it not good enough?”
It flustered the guard. “Of course, my lord… messire… Bao.” Opening the gates, he waved us through. “Ah… my lord, my lady, be welcome in the City of Elua.”
Behind the gleaming white walls surrounding the city, all was as I remembered it; and yet it was different, too.
I was different.
I had come to this place young and naïve, overwhelmed by its splendor; a child of the Maghuin Dhonn who had scarce known more than the cave and the wilderness in which I was raised. Now I was not so easily impressed. And yet I found myself longing for the familiar.
I wished Jehanne were here. And I missed my mother.
“Moirin?” Bao asked gently.
I wiped my eyes surreptitiously. “This way.” I nudged my mount. “Let’s see if my father’s in residence.”
Leading our pack-horses, we made our way to the Temple of Star-Crossed Lovers, drawing stares and murmurs all the way. A part of me wished I had taken Bao’s suggestion and purchased attire for both of us that would let us blend more smoothly into a crowd.
But then I thought about the simple delight Amrita had taken in showering gifts on us. I remembered Bao’s reminder and rode with my head held high.
Even so, I