Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [194]
Safe; we were safe.
This time it was true.
It was a little bit funny, a little bit awkward, and altogether sweet as we turned our backs on one another to change into sleeping attire. The beds creaked as we climbed into them, a comforting, homely sound.
I was careful not to touch my lady Amrita, not wanting to presume on her affection.
“Oh, don’t be foolish, Moirin,” she chided me, laying her head on my shoulder. “All of us need all the comfort we can find. I am glad you are here.”
Relieved, I held her. “So am I.”
Her dark eyes glimmered at me, and she put her lips close to my ear. “Listen to our boys.”
Ravindra was telling Bao a tale about one of his favorite Bhodistani heroes, the great archer and warrior Arjuna, who was reluctant to do battle because of the many deaths it would cause. “But Lord Krishna convinced him it was his duty to protect his people,” he said in a solemn tone. “I think that is why my mother has decided she must go to Kurugiri. Do you think you could convince her to let me come, Bao-ji? You said I was a great help today.”
“So you were, little brother,” Bao said soothingly. “But you have a different responsibility. You must remain here with your tutor to remind us all what we are fighting for.”
Ravindra sighed. “Because I am too young?”
“You are very brave, but you are not a warrior yet.” Bao tickled him. “For example, warriors do not giggle.”
It was a boy’s laughter, helpless and unfettered, reminding me once more to be grateful that even in the midst of fear and darkness, love and laughter could survive. Amrita smiled quietly in the dim moonlight spilling from the balcony, her thoughts echoing mine. “I think your Bao is good for my Ravindra,” she murmured. “My son is such a serious boy. It is good to hear him laugh, especially during such a dreadful time.”
“I think your Ravindra is good for my Bao,” I said softly in reply. “He is helping him learn to live in brightness again.”
Amrita shivered against me. “I pray to all the gods that we are given the chance to do so,” she said in a low voice.
I thought of Sameera’s severed fingers lying on the storeroom floor, of the shifting fires of Kamadeva’s diamond, and Jagrati’s terrible beauty; and I shivered, too. I held Amrita closer, breathing in the flowers-and-spice scent of her skin, and kissed her hair.
If I failed her in Kurugiri, I would never, ever forgive myself.
“I pray so, too, my lady,” I murmured. “I pray so, too.”
SIXTY-NINE
Three days later, we departed for Kurugiri.
Although he had wept at their first parting, this time Ravindra was dry-eyed and grave, every inch the solemn young prince once more. The gravity of the situation had become all too real to him, and I think he understood that if his mother didn’t return, he would be called upon to rule their people in a time of fear. He stooped to touch our feet in a gesture of respect, and embraced us all in turn.
“You will do your best to keep my mother safe, Bao-ji?” he asked.
“I will, highness.” Bao pressed his palms together and bowed. “Moirin will, too,” he added. “She is as skilled an archer as your Arjuna, you know.”
It won the faintest of smiles from the boy. “Although I do not believe it, it is good to hear anyway.”
Last of all, Ravindra embraced his mother. Amrita held him tenderly, whispering in his ear. When she turned away, there were tears in her eyes.
I closed mine, whispering a soft prayer to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself to grant me strength.
I would need a very great deal of it.
Once more, we set out in procession through the streets of Bhaktipur. This time the mood was altogether somber. We were riding to war, not to a parley. There was no hidden gambit to give us the upper hand. So much of our plan hinged on my ability to summon the twilight and hold