Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [99]
“Moirin…” Aleksei wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Just translate for me!” I said. He nodded reluctantly. Collecting myself as best I could, I turned to the Duke. “My lord, forgive me this scene. But I have been held prisoner here against my will for many months. I am a citizen of Terre d’Ange and Alba, and descended from the royal houses of both nations.”
Aleksei translated. The Duke listened and nodded, appraising me with his sharp blue-grey eyes. He asked a question, and Aleksei relayed it. “Descended how so?”
“I will give him my genealogy if he wishes,” I said. “Daniel de la Courcel, the King of Terre d’Ange, acknowledged me as kin. Ask the Patriarch himself; his own notes confirm it. I have no doubt his highness would reward my rescuer, as I have no doubt he would be most wroth if I were put to death here.”
It was a gamble, but King Daniel had always been fond of me. I wished now I had presented myself to the Cruarch before I’d left Alba.
Once again, Aleksei translated; once again, the Duke asked questions of him. These, Aleksei answered himself. The Duke bowed his head toward me and spoke at length, and there was regret in his voice.
“What did he say?” I asked dully.
“He said…” Aleksei cleared his throat and stared at the pebbled floor. “He said what you say may be true, but you have sinned against the Church nonetheless. You are far from home. No one knows you are here, and no one will know if you die here. And although… although it is a shame to destroy such exquisite beauty, any woman who can tempt the Patriarch of Riva to lose control of himself in the temple of God is too dangerous to live.”
“Oh.” My last spark of hope guttered and died.
The Duke of Vralsturm spoke to the Patriarch briefly, then beckoned to his men. Together, they exited the temple.
In the wake of their departure, the crowd began to surge forward. They may not have understood all that had transpired, but they were ready to drag me to the town square and stone me here and now.
“Aleksei…” My voice was high with fear.
With only a moment’s hesitation, he put himself between me and the crowd, reaching out his hands in a pleading gesture.
What would have happened if Pyotr Rostov had not addressed the crowd, I cannot say. But he did, and it quieted them. One by one, they began to file out of the temple.
I did not think it was much of a reprieve.
I was right.
The Patriarch turned to me. “Moirin mac Fainche of the Maghuin Dhonn,” he said with velvety malice. “For sins of the flesh, witchcraft, and blasphemy against the Church of Yeshua Ascendant, you will be put to death by stoning at dawn tomorrow. I recommend you spend the night meditating on your sins.”
“Go to hell, you stunted old pervert,” I muttered.
He gave me a creamy smile, not trying to hide it for once. “Nephew, I think it best if you have no further contact with the witch. Luba, Valentina, escort her to her cell.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Aleksei as we left. He was staring at the floor again, which didn’t bode well for me.
Luba was smiling, broadly and openly. For a piece of irony, it made her look pleasant and kind for the first time since I’d known her. I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her burst into song.
Valentina was silent, her face shuttered and averted. When they made to leave, I caught her sleeve.
“Thank you, my lady,” I said softly. “For such small kindnesses as you have shown me. My mother…” My voice broke. “If she knew, my mother would be glad that her daughter did not die entirely friendless.”
She did not answer or meet my eyes, only freed my hand gently from her sleeve. They left, and I heard the key turn in the lock.
I was alone.
Tomorrow, I was going to die—and quite horribly.
It took some time for the enormity of that notion to settle over me. I had faced death before, more than once. I wasn’t afraid of death, not exactly. I had made