Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [8]
“Do you seek sanctuary—?” she began the traditional greeting, then halted, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh, child!” Noémie swept me into an unhesitating embrace. Beneath the crimson silk robes, her body was warm and comforting, and I returned her embrace gladly. She drew back, holding my shoulders and studying me with warm hazel eyes. “I’m so pleased the rumors were true! You’ve come a long, long way, haven’t you?”
“Aye.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Noémie was as gracious and lovely as ever, but visibly older. I’d been gone long enough that her hair had turned completely grey. “Is my father here, my lady?”
“Not at the temple, no,” she said. “You’ll find Brother Phanuel at the Palace more often than not these days.”
I blinked. “The Palace?”
“You’ve not heard?” she asked. I shook my head. Noémie pursed her lips, glancing past me to take in the sight of Bao holding the reins of all four horses in the street behind me. “Is that your Ch’in prince?”
I smiled. “I suppose so.”
Noémie was too polite to comment on the ambiguity of my answer. “He’s quite the exotic young man, isn’t he? Moirin… if you wish to go straightaway to the Palace to seek out your father, I will understand. But I would be pleased to offer you and your prince lodging here, and send word to Brother Phanuel.”
“I would like that,” I said honestly. “And… whatever you may have heard, my lady, Bao is here of his own will.”
“I would never for an instant have thought otherwise.” She smiled and gave me the kiss of greeting; and there was enough of a mother’s tenderness in it that my eyes stung. “Welcome home, Moirin.”
As soon as the young priest serving as an ostler had come to tend to our horses, Noémie extended the same greeting to Bao, kissing him warmly.
“Well met, your highness,” she said to him. “In Naamah’s name, be welcome here.”
Bao cleared his throat. “Ah… I am not exactly a prince.”
Her brows rose. “No?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not exactly.”
Noémie regarded him with bemusement. “Well, you are welcome here nonetheless.”
He bowed to her in the Ch’in manner, hand over fist. “For that, and for your kindness to Moirin, I am grateful.”
Inside the temple, an air of quiet grace prevailed. Priests and priestesses in flowing robes of red silk glanced at us with gentle curiosity as they went about their duties, curiosity tempered by a long habit of patience.
This was Naamah’s place, and all lovers were under her protection. I felt a tightness inside me begin to ease.
“Tell me, my lady,” I said to Noémie over a light meal of honey-cakes and sweetened tea. “How does it come to pass that my father spends his days at the Palace? I thought him more the wandering type.”
“So he was.” She rested her chin in her hand. “But since the Duc de Barthelme was appointed Lord Minister of the realm, he has wished to keep the companion of his youth close by him.”
I frowned. “The Duc de Barthelme?”
“Rogier Courcel,” she clarified. “Another descendant of House Courcel, and a close kinsman of the King. Your father served as his royal companion.”
“Aye, I remember.” I did, although it was a vague memory. I’d met the man but briefly, distracted by the woeful tangle of affairs in which I’d gotten myself enmeshed and the enormity of meeting my long-lost father. “What does it mean that he was appointed Lord Minister?”
Again, Noémie studied me. “You heard of Queen Jehanne’s death?” she asked gently.
I nodded.
Her kind gaze was troubled. “Since that time, King Daniel has been… disengaged from the affairs of the realm. Recognizing his failings, he appointed his grace the Duc de Barthelme to administer to matters of importance.”
“You don’t think he should have done that, do you?” Bao asked.
Noémie d’Etoile looked mortified. “I did not say that!”
His lean-muscled shoulders rose and fell. “You didn’t need to.”
She was silent a moment. “I think it sets a dangerous precedent,” she admitted at length. “But mayhap a necessary one. I will be glad when