Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [115]
"Well, he spoke to all of us. But you couldn't have understood. I speak only a bit of Habiru myself. That's why we rely on Claire for the invocations; she's the best—"
"No," I interrupted him. "Not like that. When none of you were looking, I called the twilight again. Only Valac saw me. And he didn't need words. He spoke into my thoughts. And he looked different." I took another sip of water. "Very different."
"Different how?" Raphael asked.
I told him.
"Elua!" He looked appalled and intrigued. "What did he say to you?"
"He wondered what I was," I said. "He'd never seen one of the Maghuin Dhonn before. And then he told me to be careful. He said not all of the spirits are as benevolent as he is. Then he did something that thrust me out of the twilight."
Raphael rubbed his chin. "Are you quite sure? You were beyond the point of exhaustion. The mind does play tricks."
I scowled. "Aye, I'm sure!"
"All right, all right!" He put up his hands. "It's only that Valac was there before us the entire time."
I was too tired to summon much of an argument. "Mayhap your there and my there are two different things."
"Mayhap," Raphael agreed. He took my hand in his, tracing circles on my palm. Despite everything, it felt good. His fingertips drifted to the inside of my wrist, testing my pulse. Now he looked directly at me, his grey eyes grave and worried. The concern in them made my heart beat faster. "You do accept my apology?"
I sighed. "I do."
"Good." He raised my hand to his lips, kissed my palm. "The Circle would very much like to make another attempt in a few days' time. No one expected the spirit to write the spell for revealing hidden things in such a fleeting manner. We were ill prepared." Hope replaced the worry in his gaze. "Is it too much to ask?"
"You'd summon Valac again?" I asked. "Not another?"
Raphael nodded. "Only Valac."
I should have said no.
Of course I should have said no.
But it had felt so very, very good to hear Raphael tell me he loved me, even if it was a lie—and there was the pulse of my diadh-anam inside me.
"All right," I said. "Yes."
I slept on and off for the entire day. Come morning of the following day, I felt stronger. Raphael summoned his coach and we returned to the City of Elua with promises to return to the manor in three evenings' time. That afternoon, I went to keep my appointment with Master Lo Feng in the gardens of the Academy.
He looked disapproving. He sat on his mat and held a fan, which he wielded with every bit as much skill and elegance as Jehanne de la Courcel. "Yesterday I waited. But you did not come."
I clasped my hand over my fist and bowed to him. "Forgive me, Master. My lord de Mereliot required my services, and I am in his debt."
Lo Feng pointed at me. "You are weak."
I blinked. "Your pardon?"
"Your chi ebbs." He clucked his tongue. "You must take better care of yourself, no matter what Raphael de Mereliot believes he requires."
Bao, clutching his staff, muttered under his breath.
I stole a sidelong glance at him and flushed, remembering how his visage had flashed before my eyes at the moment I'd climaxed. He shot me a sour look in reply, and the memory faded. I must have been a little mad to imagine it.
Master Lo Feng rapped my knuckles with his fan. "Would you learn?"
I bowed my head. "I would."
He rapped them again. "Then attend."
I attended.
That day, he taught me the Breath of Ocean's Rolling Waves. I breathed in through my nostrils, breathed deep into the middle pit of my belly. I breathed out through my mouth. I breathed and breathed until I caught the rhythm of it—the slow-building waves gathering in the deep sea, building and building, surging toward the shore. Building and breaking; drawing back and reclaiming their essence, only to rebuild once more. Over and over, the rhythm repeated itself.
I was almost sorry when Master Lo Feng declared an end to the exercise. I felt better than I had since the summoning. Bao helped his mentor to his feet, then busied himself with rolling the mats around his staff.
"Why does he always carry that