Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [233]
“No.” I frowned. “But… what is this? Why? My lady, I don’t even know what questions to ask.”
Reaching out with one slender hand, Jehanne stroked my brow, then trailed her fingers down my cheek. “Don’t scowl, Moirin,” she said in a teasing tone. “You’ll get wrinkles.”
I pulled away from her distracting touch. “Jehanne, please! Talk to me.”
She withdrew her hand, looking so disconsolate that it was all I could do not to take her in my arms and comfort her with kisses. “I can’t move onward,” she said. “Neither forward nor backward.”
I struggled to recall what my father had told me of the D’Angeline afterlife. “You cannot pass on to the Terre d’Ange-that-lies-beyond?” I asked, and she nodded. “Nor can you be reborn in the mortal world?”
“I have to wait,” she agreed.
“Oh, my lady!” I swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears. “Why such a cruel fate?”
Her fair shoulders rose in a graceful shrug. “I don’t understand it all. I only know that your business with Raphael de Mereliot is not finished. The time is coming when you will have to reckon with him, and you will need my help before the end.”
A shiver ran over my skin. “Do you know how or why?”
Jehanne shook her head. “Only that it is coming. Don’t cry for me, Moirin,” she added, reaching out to wipe a tear from my cheek; and this time I didn’t pull back from her. “Leaving was the hardest part.”
“Dying?” I asked softly.
She shook her head again. “Death is not so fearful as I thought it would be. But leaving… leaving Daniel, leaving my infant daughter. Leaving a world with one such as you in it.” She smiled at me. “Will you tell my Desirée about me when you meet her? Everyone in the Court except her father will only tell her of the scandals and gossip I caused. You… you can tell her that her mother did a very good thing once when she rescued a beautiful young woman from her own folly.”
I couldn’t help my tears. “Jehanne, of course I will! You needn’t ask; I would have done it anyway. I will tell her that you loved her very much, that you would have been a wonderful mother, and grown into a wise and gracious queen.”
“Like your precious Rani?” Jehanne asked crossly in a mercurial mood shift that was so familiar it made me laugh through my tears.
“You are jealous!” I said to her.
She smiled again, taking my hand. “Yes. And a bit cheated that I didn’t have the time to grow into this wise and gracious queen you dreamed I would become.” Watching me beneath her lashes, she traced the intricate patterns of henna on my hand and forearm with the tip of one finger, a touch that was at once impossibly delicate and maddeningly arousing, making my skin prickle.
I took a deep breath. “Jehanne…”
Her blue-grey eyes opened wide and ingenuous. “You promised you would not say no to me. And I do not know when I will be able to reach you again, Moirin.”
“Aye, and I’m getting married tomorrow!” I protested.
“Tomorrow is tomorrow.” She stroked my skin with that exquisite touch. “And I am here. You used to say that to me, remember? I am here. It always comforted me. Will you not stay?”
I hesitated.
Jehanne’s voice broke slightly, breaking my heart. “Please? It’s so very lonely where I am.”
And because I could no more resist her than the ocean’s tides could resist the pull of the moon, I gave in to her as I had done a thousand times before; and even though it was a dream, it felt so very real, my lady Jehanne warm and alive in my arms, naked and silken, the intoxicating scent of her skin making me dizzy with longing, Jehanne winding her arms around my neck, kissing me with consummate skill and desperate ardor, whispering my name like a prayer.
I stayed; and this time the dream did not cast me out. In my dream, I fell asleep holding her.
I awoke to morning light and an empty bed, the linens rumpled.
Jehanne’s scent lingered in the room.
I sighed and arose, my heart at once heavy with guilt and light with gladness, my body languid with the aftermath of pleasure.
The Rani Amrita and her attendants