Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [232]
Bao gave me an inquiring glance, and I nodded. With the diamond locked safe in a coffer, I had not been tempted by it. “Of course.” He bowed deeply to the Rani in the Ch’in manner, hand over fist. “It is the least we can do for the trouble we led to your doorstep, highness.”
She smiled at him. “On the balance, you have brought far more joy than sorrow. So I will count it as a kindness, and be grateful.”
One by one, the happy days fled.
A part of me wanted to cling to them, wanted the world to slow in its turning, to stay here in this charmed valley with people I had come to love, and be happy as long as I was allowed. A part of me welcomed it, yearning to return home, longing for just one glimpse of my mother’s face.
I wondered what she would make of Bao.
I had a feeling they would like one another, my taciturn mother and my insolent, irrepressible magpie.
In the Rani Amrita’s capable hands, the plans for our wedding proceeded apace. To be sure, it would be an untraditional affair. Family, that vast, extended web that was a cornerstone of Bhodistani society, would not come into play here. There would be no dowry, no symbolic transfer of power as I moved from my parents’ household to that of my husband.
“Still!” Amrita said in a firm voice. “It will be a very, very splendid celebration, and certain things will be observed.”
Certain things meant petitioning the elephant-headed god Ganesha to remove any obstacles to our union.
Certain things meant another ritual in which a priest smeared a dot of red turmeric powder on my brow and Bao’s.
Certain things meant that I must sit still for hours on end while a special artist applied intricate designs of henna paste to my hands, arms, and feet, rendering me beautiful after the manner of every Bhodistani bride.
It was a good thing I had learned a great deal about patience.
I didn’t mind it, though, not really. There was music and dancing, and it made me glad to hear my lady Amrita and the women of the Falconer’s harem discuss men and their foibles and giggle together, finding brightness in the shadow of sorrow and suffering, weaving the strands of loss and anguish into a fabric of togetherness.
And on the eve of our wedding, certain things meant that Bao and I must spend the night apart.
“I will miss you, Moirin,” he said to me. “Even for just one night.”
I laid one hand on his hard chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my palm. “I will miss you, too.”
Alone in the chamber we had shared, I slept…
… and dreamed of Jehanne again.
In my dream, I opened the door of the bedchamber she had had made for me, my enchanted bower, filled with growing plants. I found Jehanne naked in my bed, her pale blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her arms wrapped around her knees.
My heart pounded in my chest.
“Hello, my beautiful girl.” Her eyes sparkled at me. “Won’t you come and give me the kiss of greeting?”
I sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “Jehanne, you know I love you. Must you insist on tormenting me on the eve of my wedding?”
She looked away, then looked back at me with one of her unreadable expressions. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know.” I gazed at her impossible beauty, the delicate green fern-shadows etched on her fair skin. A tickle of foreboding brushed me, as though someone had trailed a feather along my spine. “This isn’t just a dream, is it?”
“I’m not meant to be here yet,” Jehanne replied indirectly. “At least, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell. Time moves differently on the other side, you know.”
“I know,” I murmured.
She nodded seriously. “You do know about such things, my lovely witch-girl. That’s why I’m able to reach you. Only… if it’s not time yet, I suppose you’re right,