Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [231]
I hoped he would.
I thought he might.
Flowers worked their way loose from hastily strung garlands, floating down the river. We waded dripping out of the river, shivering in the cool air, glad to be met with warm blankets and clean, dry clothing.
Priests kindled the sacred fires and sang.
Everywhere, faces glowed.
Bao wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned gratefully into his embrace once more. “The world has changed a little bit today, huh?” he murmured in my ear.
I nodded. “For the better.”
“I wonder what’s next for us,” he mused. “For there will be a next, Moirin.”
“I know.” I lifted my head to kiss him, my lips lingering on his. “But for now, can we not just be happy?”
Bao smiled at me. “For now, yes.”
EIGHTY-ONE
The months that followed were a time of near-perfect happiness. A sense of benediction hovered over the valley and the celebratory mood lingered.
It was not entirely perfect; here and there, there were folk embittered by the change, folk who refused to have any dealings with the former untouchables or threatened violence against them. The Rani levied a system of steep fines against them, putting the money gathered toward the construction of a new school, and in time even the last holdouts gave way with grudging reluctance.
But for the most part, all was well. Too many people had witnessed the miracle of marigolds bursting forth from the earth and steam rising from the surface of the Bhasa River to doubt the will of the gods.
I was happy, very happy. I had the company of my lovely Rani Amrita and her clever son, who attempted in vain to teach me to play chess. I had the pleasure of spending time with the tulku Laysa and the other women of the harem, watching them blossom in their newfound home, watching their children run and play in the garden, free forever more from the stark tyranny of Kurugiri, watching serious Ravindra abandon his dignity to laugh and play among them.
And I had Bao.
It was a good time for us, the first time since we had been together on the greatship that there was no shadow that lay between us. No dragon’s jealousy, no angry, jilted Tatar princess. No Patriarch to sully our union with his vile thoughts, no conspiracy to separate us by leagues and leagues, no hate-filled Spider Queen in her lair.
And for once, there was no destiny goading us—no princess to rescue, no assassins to thwart, no fortress to invade. Somewhere to the west, further oceans beckoned, but for now, our shared diadh-anam was content to let us rest.
We learned to be together as friends and lovers, learned to live with ordinary happiness as well as the divine spark that joined us.
“He is good with children, that one,” my lady Amrita observed, watching Bao entertain Ravindra and the others, walking upside down on his hands and challenging them to a race. “Will you start a family after you are wed?”
“Someday, yes.” I smiled wistfully. “Not for a while, I think. I fear the gods are not done with us.”
She sighed. “I wish the world were not so very large! I would so like to see your children playing in this very garden.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. “So would I. But our lives will always be the richer for having known you.”
Having lost his absurd race and been toppled ignominiously by a horde of delighted children, Bao came over to console himself with a cool drink.
“Amrita thinks you will be a good father one day,” I informed him.
Bao grinned at me. “I will be an excellent father, O queen of my heart. Our children will deserve nothing less.”
I flushed at the unexpected endearment, the first Bao had ever given me. His grin softened into a lopsided smile, and we gazed foolishly at each other, still learning this business of being in love.
Amrita shook her head at us both. “I would say your wedding day cannot come too soon,” she said fondly. “Except I know my D’Angeline dakini and my bad boy Bao have not bothered to wait for it.”
“Oh, but we are looking forward to it,” Bao assured her. “Very much so!”
“I am glad.” She arranged her fingers in