Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [37]
“And the Great Khan was pleased,” I noted.
“Very pleased,” Bao agreed. “So pleased that he insisted on giving me his youngest daughter in marriage.”
I scowled at him. “Bao, you are the stubbornest person I’ve ever met, and now that Master Lo is gone, I do not think there is anyone under the sun who could make you do a thing if you did not wish it. You’re a clever and skilled liar. Don’t tell me you could not have talked your way out of it.”
“I’m not,” he said mildly.
I waited.
Bao sighed. “Moirin, you possess a gift the likes of which no one outside your strange bear-folk has ever seen. You possess a strange beauty the likes of which no one has ever seen. You are descended from three different royal lineages. And I’m nothing but a simple Ch’in peasant-boy—or at least I was. Do you think I don’t know it matters?”
I looked blankly at him. “You’re the one who insisted on referring to yourself thusly! What did I ever say or do to make you think it mattered to me?”
“You didn’t need to say anything!” His voice rose. “Gods, Moirin! Do you know how much gossip I had to endure in Terre d’Ange? I know your history as well as my own. Better, maybe.”
“So?”
“So there was that lord’s son in Alba, the one who died.” He began to recite a litany of my lovers, ticking them off on his fingers. “And I am sorry, because I know you cared for him, but he was a lord’s son. High-and-mighty Lion Mane, that Raphael de Mereliot, what was he? Some kind of nobleman. His sister ruled a city, anyway. When you quarreled with him, you bedded the Crown Prince, didn’t you?” Bao raised his brows at me. “That’s what they all said. And when you quarreled with both of them, the White Queen herself.”
I flushed. “Aye, but—”
He cut me off, lowering his voice to a fierce, hushed whisper as though someone might overhear us. “And I am not sure how to count the fact that a dragon decided you were a worthy mate for the heir to the throne of the Celestial Empire, but I am quite sure it does count, even if the Noble Princess was not particularly pleased with his choice. There is no place for peasants in your history, Moirin.”
“You’re not as clever as you think,” I muttered. “You missed one.”
It was Bao’s turn to look blank. “Who?”
“No one important.” I drew up my knees beneath my Tatar coat, wrapping my arms around them. “His name was Theo, I think. He drove the coach that brought me to the City of Elua. By the way, I have not kept count of the bored wives you claim to have bedded, although I am grateful for all they taught you.”
“It’s not the same.” Bao eyed me. “A coach-driver?”
I nodded, resting my chin on my knees. “In the stables along our route, yes. It was after Cillian’s death. I took comfort in it.”
“But you spurned him in the end,” he said uncertainly. “Right?”
I shook my head. “Not I, no. It was his choice.”
“He spurned you?” Bao shot me an incredulous look. “What an idiot!”
Despite everything, I laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk!”
“Moirin…” Bao leaned forward to take my hands in his, gazing intently at me. “All right, perhaps I was wrong about certain things. But this I know to be true. Before what happened, happened… it is as I told you, I was ready to ask Master Lo to release me from his service. I was ready to give up my life as his magpie for you. After his death…” He shrugged. “I could not bear to be herded into accepting my fate like some stupid, mindless sheep. I needed to find a way to make this choice my own. To make it meaningful, to make it a choice that counted for something larger.”
“By finding something worthy of sacrificing?” I asked. I did not fully understand the way his fierce sense of pride goaded him, but I’d come to recognize its workings.
“Perhaps,” he said simply. “I did not think of it so, but… perhaps.”
I bowed my head over our joined hands, rubbing my thumbs over his callused palms. “So everything comes around full circle,” I murmured. “The peasant-boy