Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [3]
He didn’t come.
Instead, I sensed him moving farther away from me, carrying the twinned flame of my diadh-anam inside him. Moving away from me, toward the outskirts of the empire, toward the Great Wall that kept the Tatar horde at bay.
It was the princess—Snow Tiger, my brave, lovely princess—who reminded me that I, too, had a choice. She had given me the greatest gift of all, the fragile gift of trust. In the beginning, I had been nothing but an unwelcome burden to her; her necessary inconvenience, she had called me. Much had changed between us by the end, and I carried private, tender memories of her that warmed my heart.
But nothing, nothing could replace what I had lost. And yes, I had a choice. So I had set out to find my stubborn peasant-boy.
If Bao would not come to me, I would go to him.
At least, I hoped so.
TWO
I took a room at a travellers’ inn that first night. There was a time when I would have eschewed man-made walls for the freedom of the outdoors, but I had grown more civilized since leaving my home in Alba. After a long day’s ride, the notion of a hot meal and a roof over my head appealed to me.
The ostler at the stable gaped at the sight of me, revealing a few missing teeth. On the road, I’d managed not to attract overmuch attention merely by dint of keeping my head lowered and my eyes averted. To be sure, a seemingly well-off young woman travelling alone drew curious glances, but at a quick, stealthy glance, with my coloring I could almost pass for Ch’in. My straight, black hair, I’d inherited from my mother. My skin was a warm golden hue, fairer than my mother’s, but not nearly so fair as my D’Angeline father’s milk-white skin.
I had his eyes, though. Green as grass, green as the rushes grow. And I had a measure of the fearful, keen-edged symmetry of D’Angeline beauty, coupled with the untamed spark of the Maghuin Dhonn. No one looking me full in the face could mistake me for aught but what I was: the Emperor’s jade-eyed witch.
The ostler barked at a young stable-lad in an unfamiliar dialect. The boy went pelting toward the inn proper. I settled my battered canvas satchel over my shoulder and followed him. I hadn’t gone ten steps before a solidly built middle-aged woman, clearly the proprietress of the establishment, came bustling down the path toward me. Her shrewd gaze raked me over, taking in my fine robes, my jade bangles, and the Emperor’s medallion.
I bowed in the Ch’in manner, hand over fist, and spoke in the Shuntian scholar’s tongue, the only one I knew. “Greetings, Honored Aunt. I seek lodging for the night.”
A smile broke over her face. “You are the foreign witch, are you not? The one who freed the dragon?”
“Aye,” I agreed. “I am.”
She clutched my arm in a companionable manner, tugging me toward the inn. “Come, come! We are honored to give you hospitality. No charge, no charge at all. You must call me Auntie Li.”
“You’re very kind,” I said politely. “But I can pay.”
The proprietress snorted, squeezed my arm, and gave me a conspiratorial wink. “I’m nothing of the sort, child. I’m a greedy old widow who knows that folk will pay to hear tales of the Emperor’s witch’s stay here. Indulge me.”
I smiled. “All right, Auntie Li.”
She was right, of course. A silence fell over the common room of the inn when she ushered me inside. Men paused, teacups halfway to their mouths, staring.
But I was used to it.
I’d been stared at a great deal in my short life. In Alba, I had been my mother’s well-kept secret—not due to any sense of shame, but simply my mother’s own taciturn nature. Folk there had found it startling that a woman of the Maghuin Dhonn, a descendant of Alais the Wise, had borne a half-D’Angeline child.
In Terre d’Ange, folk had found it just as startling that