Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [218]
"Is my father searching for me?" Snow Tiger asked hesitantly.
"His men follow the trail Bao and I laid for them," Master Lo confirmed. "In the morning, I suspect they will broaden their search. If you would heed my counsel, my lady, I suggest all of us take a few hours of sleep and depart before dawn."
She nodded. "So be it."
The farmstead was a simple, rustic place with only one bedchamber. The princess and I retired to it. Bao appointed himself to guard the door, dozing before it, staff held loosely in his hands. I made myself a pallet of blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting and watching out of the corner of my eye as the princess paced the room, paused, then tugged decisively at the sash of her crimson robes, undoing jeweled buttons.
"My lady, would you like me to assist—"
"No." Her tone was curt. "I have long since grown accustomed to attending to my own needs."
"I am here to serve you," I said diplomatically. "For whatever reason your gods and mine decree."
"I know." Her voice softened. The bed creaked as she climbed into it, pulling the linens to her chin. "Forgive me. You meant it as a kindness. I do not mean to seem ungrateful. It's just that this is all so very, very strange to me. I find it hard to imagine myself doing such a thing. And yet here I am."
"I know," I echoed. If she had been anyone else, I would have gone to her, offered the simple comfort of a warm, living presence. But she was a princess of Ch'in and the daughter of the Son of Heaven, and I'd already pressed my limit today by taking her hand in the carriage. Instead, I curled up in my bed of blankets, willing sleep to come.
"Have you concluded that you love him?" Her voice drifted down from the darkness above me. Bao?
"Who else?" There was a hint of amusement in it. "You may answer. The dragon sleeps."
"Oh…" I sighed into the night, reliving that unexpected moment that had made my heart leap with joy. "Mayhap. I don't know. More, I think, than I reckoned. If I do, it's nothing like the tales I've heard led me to expect."
She sighed, too. "I suspect nothing ever is."
"Your husband," I said softly, daring a different kind of intimacy. "You spoke of him as someone you might have learned to love. Was that not as you expected?"
For a long moment, Snow Tiger was silent, and I thought mayhap I had overstepped my bounds. "I expected my father to choose a warrior," she said at length, her voice almost inaudible. "Jiang Jian was a scholar and a poet, happier with an ink-brush in his hand than a sword. We met several times with attendants present before we wed. To my surprise, I liked him very much. He was kind, polite, and respectful. We spoke of our favorite poems. His intellect challenged me. His passion pleased and inspired me."
"Was he handsome?" I asked. It was a shallow question, but I did not think it would displease her.
"Yes," she whispered in the darkness. "He had the kindest, gentlest eyes, like one who has lived many lives. Perhaps Master Lo Feng looked thusly as a young man. I think… I think that because Jiang Jian had a gentle spirit, my father thought him weak. A husband I could control. And… perhaps that is also why his own father valued him so lightly. But I did not find him weak. Not at all. I thought he had a keen mind and a calm, quiet strength of his own. And on our wedding night, before what happened…" She was silent for another long moment. "I think we would have been well matched in many ways."
The spectre of her memory arose—the blood-soaked bed, torn flesh, and dismembered limbs. I swallowed hard. "I'm so very sorry."
"I know." Snow Tiger stirred. "Moirin, I do not think I can speak of this any longer."
"Aye, my lady," I murmured. "Forgive me for troubling your thoughts. It is late. Let us try to sleep."
Despite everything, we did.
I awoke in the small hours of the morning to a faint scratching at the door and opened it to find Bao looking oddly apologetic, a pair of shears in his hand. In the primary chamber of the farmstead, the transformation