Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [124]
We ate the lunch of sausages, cheese, and brown bread that Polina had packed for us, and afterward, I introduced Aleksei to the pleasure of making love outdoors, with nothing but earth and sky around us.
“Now I truly do feel like Edom and Yeva in the Garden,” he whispered to me. “I only wish—”
I stopped his mouth with a kiss. “I know. But I cannot stay here.”
“I know,” Aleksei said softly, brushing the hair back from my face. “But I do wish it, Moirin.”
I kissed him again. “Let’s see if I can get a brace of grouse for Polina, shall we?”
He accompanied me as I walked along the piney woods that lined the meadow, an arrow nocked loosely. It took half an hour before I flushed a lone grouse, rising out of the underbrush with a startling clatter of wings.
That bird, I missed; and it took us another half hour to find the arrow I’d loosed. But after that, I flushed and shot two birds in quick succession, wringing their necks swiftly so that they did not suffer. By then it was late enough in the afternoon that we decided to return to the inn.
“It’s passing strange,” Aleksei mused as we rode. “In Riva, you seemed so very different to me.”
“One of the many Moirins,” I said lightly.
“No, it’s not just that. I saw you as I was taught to see you,” he said. “When you were angry and bitter and resentful, I thought it was the badness in you, Naamah’s curse, the unclean spirit fighting against God’s efforts to redeem it. Even when I gave you my mother’s book to read, it was because I hoped you would respond better to a message of love and compassion.”
“You weren’t wrong,” I murmured.
“No, but… seeing you now, in your own element, I realize you were angry for the exact reason you said.” Aleksei glanced at me. “You were a wild creature meant to live free, and we cast you in chains.”
I raised my brows. “You’re only just now realizing this?”
“Day by day, I realize it more.” He smiled wryly. “Today, I am realizing that you would have every right to hate me for the role I played in your captivity.” He paused. “Do you? At least a little?”
“No.” I drew rein and leaned over in the saddle to touch his arm. “You were in a cage, too, Aleksei, only you could not even see the bars. I don’t hate you. Even in my worst moments, I never hated you.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Moirin. I’ve never said it, have I? I should have said it days ago. I’m sorry for what my uncle did to you. I’m sorry for what you have suffered. I’m sorry for being a part of it. I’m sorry we took you away from…” His voice faltered, then continued. “From that Bao you spoke of, and your soul-spark he carries. No matter what I may wish, I can tell that you love him and fear for him.” His blue eyes shone, guileless and remorseful. “I’m very, very sorry.”
It touched me more than I could have reckoned. Until Aleksei gave me one, I hadn’t known part of me yearned for an apology, any apology.
“Thank you,” I said simply.
Aleksei nodded. “You’re welcome. For all the many kindnesses you have shown me…” His color rose. “I owe you a great deal more than an apology.”
I smiled. “Oh, I have enjoyed the kindnesses, sweet boy. Do not think I haven’t.”
“I don’t.” He smiled back at me. “You’ve taught me that much. But do not think I am not grateful for them, or for the generosity and forbearance you have shown me.”
“I don’t,” I assured him. “You have a good heart, Aleksei.”
Thus in accord, we resumed our journey back into Udinsk. Passing the Tatar encampment, I caught sight of Vachir’s wife, Arigh, milking a goat and waved to her, hoisting the brace of grouse that she might see I’d put her bow to good use. She smiled and raised a hand in reply.
We entered the city proper, our stalwart horses jogging steadily beneath us. I bowed my head and touched the thoughts of my mount lightly, stroking her withers, trying to think of a name that might suit her now that we had spent an entire day together. The squinty-eyed trader hadn’t bothered to name his wares.
Something calm, I thought, something hardy.
Somewhere, someone shouted.
My head came