Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [160]
Raphael looked away. "You've had a surfeit of Master Lo Feng's philosophy."
I tried a different tack. "Jehanne believes you aided me out of the goodness of your heart," I told him. "It pleased her so much to think so. You could make it true."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Does it please her so greatly that she will forsake Daniel for me? I think not. She's bearing his child. She's made her choice. Why should I care what Jehanne de la Courcel thinks of me?"
"Because you do," I said.
He gave a short, harsh laugh, running his hands over his face. "Elua help me, it's true. But not enough, Moirin. Not when she feeds me crumbs and spreads a feast for others. Once, I would have done anything for her. Not now."
Sensing the depth of his misery, I was silent. I'd been thrust between them from the beginning, first on one's side, then the other's. I'd let Raphael use me as a pawn in their game, knowing that he loved her. And I remembered all too well how Jehanne had come to my quarters, lost and shivering, and asked me to hold her after Raphael had bade her go rather than stay the night. She loved him. But she had made her choice between the anchor and the storm—and I'd helped her. I had a seat at her banquet table.
This was not an argument I was going to win.
"So." Raphael cleared his throat, dismissing the topic. "Let me assure you that the Circle will take every precaution. And let's arrange a sign, you and I. I'm not a monster, Moirin. I promise, I'll not trade your life for this endeavor. We do but make an attempt. If you're starting to feel faint, squeeze my hand hard and I'll bid Claire to speak the words of dismissal. All right?"
"As you will," I murmured. "When?"
He rose gracefully. "I'll need to consult with the others. The timing of this will be different. Focalor is one of the greater spirits, a grand duke of the fallen. He's to be summoned between the hours of sunrise and noon. I'll send word."
With a heavy heart, I inclined my head. "I'll await it."
It came on the morrow in the form of a letter.
Come to the townhouse at dawn, two days hence.
* * *
CHAPTER FIFTY
On the appointed day, I awoke in the dim hours before dawn. My room, my enchanted bower. It seemed very precious to me. I kindled a lamp and dressed beneath the shadows of a hundred plants, breathing in their scent.
I thought about the task at hand and wondered what trick Focalor would play.
It was always going to be a trick.
I thought about the oath I had sworn—and tricks. And I swore softly to myself, wrenching open the drawer of the desk in my outer chamber and rummaging for paper and ink. I'd sworn not to speak of my bargain with Raphael.
I hadn't sworn not to write of it.
There was no time left to think. Acting in desperation, I scrawled a swift note to Jehanne, telling her where I was bound and why. I kissed it and sealed it, praying she'd have a better idea of what to do about it than I did—or at least the sense to consult with someone who did, like King Daniel. On my way out of the Palace, I hunted down one of her guards and gave it to him.
He eyed me warily, holding the sealed letter as though it were a serpent. "You'd have me wake her majesty at this hour?"
"I would," I said. "Have I ever asked any guardsman for aught?"
The guard sighed. "Never, my lady."
I nodded. "Then you know it's important."
In the royal stables, a sleepy ostler saddled Blossom and led her out for me. The gentle filly Thierry had given me was game for the adventure, ears pricked. I rode her through the empty streets of the City to Raphael's townhouse, praying I'd find him lagging. Every moment of delay would hasten my missive.
But no, Raphael de Mereliot was awake and ready, his horse saddled and waiting in the courtyard. "Best to make haste," he said. "I'll send for the carriage later if it's needed. The rest of the Circle assembled last night."
We made haste—too much haste. The grey air was damp and