Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [139]
I smiled back at him. "I know."
"She's fickle," Thierry warned me. "Fickle and vain and self-absorbed."
I glanced at Jehanne's exquisite profile. "I know that, too."
"Well. As long as you know." He took a bite of roasted capon, chewed and swallowed. "When all's said and done, I'm glad someone pried you out of de Mereliot's clutches. I just never expected it to be her."
I laughed. "Nor did I."
After that exchange, things were easier between us. It would be an exaggeration to say the balance of the evening was pleasant, but it was tolerable. There was an awkward moment when the King and Queen retired for the night, bidding us to stay and enjoy their hospitality. Everyone rose and bowed or curtsied at their departure. I hesitated, unsure if I was meant to stay or go. I'd never been a royal companion—if that was what I was—before.
Jehanne saw the uncertainty in my face and murmured something to the King, letting go his arm. He nodded.
I had a sudden fear that she meant to ask me to join them. "Your majesty, I hope you don't expect—"
"Elua, no!" Jehanne glanced at Thierry. "Moirin, you're my guest. Stay as long as you wish. Enjoy yourself." She reached up to cup the back of my neck and kissed me before the entire Court, then whispered in my ear, "Only remember, I don't like to share."
I understood. It was unfair and unreasonable—but mayhap also for my own good. I agreed to it without a second thought. "I'll see you on the morrow?"
She nodded, eyes sparkling. "If you behave."
I watched them depart the dining hall together—the King and Queen of Terre d'Ange, her hand resting in the crook of his arm. My royal mistress and her royal husband, leaving to share the royal bedchamber, the ghost of his lost love between them.
Thierry passed me a flagon of brandy. "Here. It helps."
I sighed, poured, and drank.
It helped.
But despite everything, the days that followed were a good time. I was content to be Jehanne's companion. It was a refuge. Her mercurial moods didn't trouble me. She liked talking to me. I liked to listen to her and I never tired of looking at her. I took a great deal of pleasure in pleasing her; and she took a great deal of delight in introducing me to new pleasures.
"Such a sweet bottom begging to be plumbed." Jehanne's voice, cooing. Already, I hovered on the precipice. Her hands, cupping my buttocks. "You're still a virgin there?"
"Aye," I gasped.
She smiled. "Not for long."
"I don't think—" My back arched and I grabbed at the bedsheets. "Oh!"
Jehanne de la Courcel was very, very skilled in Naamah's arts.
In that first month, I saw Raphael only once. I'd resumed my lessons with Master Lo Feng and I encountered Raphael in the halls of the Academy. He was walking and talking with Claire Fourcay.
I had to own, my heart quickened at the sight of him.
He stopped dead, his jaw clenching.
"Raphael," I pleaded. "Can we not be civil with one another?"
He swept past me without a word, Claire hurrying in his wake. None of the members of the Circle were speaking to me save Lianne Tremaine. I didn't care about the others, but Raphael's anger troubled me.
"You feel guilty," Jehanne said later. "That's why you don't want to talk about Raphael de Mereliot and his occult schemes."
I wrapped my arms around my knees. "I promised I wouldn't. It would feel like betraying him twice over."
"He was intent on using you toward his own ends," she observed. "You don't think that's a betrayal of sorts?"
I shrugged. "I consented. And he meant well."
She studied my face. "Do you miss him?"
"Do you?" I countered.
"Some days." Jehanne pulled me against her, sinking her hands into my hair and kissing me until the image of Raphael's face blurred in my memory. "Not today." Her grey-blue eyes gazed intently into mine. "Tell me one thing. Are they likely to succeed in whatever they're attempting?"
"No," I murmured. "Not without me."
She kissed me some more. "Good."
Winter deepened. Snow fell, churned to slush in the streets of the City by horses' hooves and carriage wheels. Preparations began for the Midwinter