Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [105]
I accompanied him as he performed the morning's rite to honor Naamah, pouring out offerings of wine and honey and invoking her aid in removing obstacles from the course of troubled lovers. Noemie watched with approval.
"It's always such a pleasure to have Phanuel here," she said softly. "Do you suppose you might follow in his footsteps and enter Naamah's Service?"
I gazed at the marble effigy's sunlit face, tranquil and beautiful. "As an adept or a priestess?"
"Either path would be open to you," Noemie said. "The path of the adept holds the promise of wealth and prestige. The rewards of the path of priesthood are deeper and more profound."
I thought about the mantle of grace that lay over my father, the smiles of pleasure that trailed in his wake. I thought I understood. But when I tried to envision myself doing the same, my diadh-anam flickered with alarm. The majestic face of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself rose before me, and I remembered the vast sense of joy and pride I'd felt when She claimed me as Her own. It could be lost, all lost.
When I blinked, the vision faded, but the feelings lingered.
"No," I said with regret. "That I am Naamah's in part, I do not doubt. I've long felt her presence in my life. But I am first and always a child of the Maghuin Dhonn, and I cannot swear an oath to serve another."
"A pity," Noemie murmured.
"I have a daughter who worships a bear," my father remarked, having finished his offering.
Noemie d'Etoile went pale.
"You would understand if you saw Her," I said. "And I cannot help who I am."
"I like who you are." He smiled at me. "And I do not expect you to forsake your heritage. Only that if the gods of Terre d'Ange speak to you, you listen to them as well. It may be that their will accords with hers."
"I will listen," I promised.
After we broke our fast at the temple, my father escorted me back to Raphael's townhouse. We passed through Elua's Square so I could visit the great oak there. I told my father it remembered being planted by Elua and Anael. He shook his head in wonder, gazing up at the mighty crown of branches. I leaned my cheek against the rough bark and listened with pleasure to the oak tree's slow, ancient thoughts.
And then, all too soon, it was time to say farewell.
I invited my father inside, but he declined. "The sooner I leave, the sooner I'll return."
"I wish you didn't have to go. I'll miss you." Even though I'd known him only a day, it was true. "If Blessed Elua bade his people to love as they will, why do families like that lad's seek to keep lovers apart?"
He smiled wryly. "Because people are human and imperfect. We let matters of status and wealth affect our judgment." "You don't."
"I try." He gave me one last warm embrace. "And if you're your mother's child, I suspect you don't, either. Take care of yourself, and I'll be back in a month's time to see if you've found your destiny."
"All right," I whispered.
I watched my father walk away, his crimson robes swaying gently around him. At the end of the street, he turned and gave me one of his lovely smiles.
Then he was gone.
I sighed and went inside.
Raphael wasn't there, but he'd left word that he hoped I would join him in attending a dinner party that evening hosted by the Comte de Thibideau. One of Prince Thierry's men had delivered the filly Blossom along with a letter congratulating me on reuniting with my father and expressing the hope that I would join him on a delayed excursion to Balm House that afternoon. And Daphne told me that Benoit Vallon had sent a messenger from Atelier Favrielle saying that there were more garments ready to be fitted.
"He said that now that you're well enough to thoroughly disregard his advice, you can present yourself at the atelier." She handed me a package wrapped in pretty paper. "What advice was that?"
"Advice I probably should have heeded." I examined the package. "Who is this from?"
"It's a token of thanks from Cereus House." Daphne looked puzzled. "I've never heard of the like. It must be a new custom."
I unwrapped the package to find a well-worn book