Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [46]
I did now. "I do."
Her forefinger tapped. "This is a letter of introduction you may present at Court if you so desire, confirming that you're a descendant of House Courcel."
I peered at it. "Ah, that's well thought."
"And this . . ." She tapped a different page. "This is the address of the Atelier Favrielle, where a friend of mine is employed." Her mouth curved into a smile. "From their inception onward, they've always enjoyed a unique challenge. I suspect that Benoit might relish that of dressing you."
"Dressing me?" I echoed.
"Child…" Caroline sighed. "Yes, dressing you. Oh, Blessed Elua have mercy, you'll present them with a rare challenge, you will." She steepled her fingers. "May I ask why you're bound for the City of Elua? Have you kin there?"
I shifted in my chair. "My father, mayhap. It seems he was a Priest of Naamah."
"How in the world—" She caught herself. "No mind. By the look of you, I believe it. Do you know where to find him?"
I shook my head. "Not exactly. He told my mother that there is a temple in the City dedicated to star-crossed lovers. That they will know where to find him. Do you know it?"
"As it happens, I do." Caroline fetched a fresh sheet of paper and wrote in a steady hand, her head bowed. Light from the ornate lamp overhead made her coiled hair shine and picked out a marking I'd not noticed the other day, a cluster of yellow and green bryony indelibly inked on the nape of her neck, curling tendrils disappearing beneath the collar of her gown.
"Are these warrior's markings?" It seemed unlikely, but I couldn't think what else they might be. Curious, I reached out and stroked her tattooed skin with my fingertips, letting them linger. Her skin was very soft and warm.
Her head jerked up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"
"Warrior's markings," I repeated. "Like the Cullach Gorrym wear."
"Name of Elua, no." Caroline stared at me, mildly disconcerted. Although I had withdrawn my hand, I could feel the bright lady's gift stirring. "It's Bryony House's marque."
"Ah. Like on the doorway."
"No." She shook her head. "Bryony Associates is owned by Bryony House and guaranteed by the Dowayne's treasury, but I assure you, it's altogether different."
"Oh?" I said in an encouraging tone.
"It's a pleasure-house in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers. I was sworn to Naamah's Service for seven years there."
"You were a priestess?" I asked.
"An adept." Caroline studied me. "Do you know what that means, Moirin?"
"I know Naamah lay down with strangers for coin," I said helpfully. "Is it something to do with that?"
"It is."
"Well, then."
Caroline no Bryony sighed and put her face in her hands and muttered something in unintelligible D'Angeline. I wanted to touch her skin again, and the fine tendrils of hair loose on the nape of her neck. But it made me think of Cillian telling me that it wasn't appropriate to look at people's sisters as though I wondered if they might taste good, and the sorrow thinking of him evoked made the urge go away, leaving only sadness behind. So I waited quietly until she lifted her head.
"Do you even speak a word of D'Angeline?" she asked me.
I nodded. "Un peu, oui. I'm not entirely ignorant, my lady." I smiled sadly. "The Lord of the Dalriada's son taught me."
"The Lord—" Her lips moved soundlessly. "Cillian mac Tiernan. That was you."
It made me uncomfortable to think about such a private grief being a topic of discussion. "What do they say of me?" I asked her.
To her credit, Caroline held my gaze. "That Lord Tiernan's son died ensorceled by a bear-witch's daughter."
"Lord Tiernan's son died on a cattle-raid," I murmured. "To my great and everlasting sorrow. And I am guilty only of not loving him as much as he loved me."
"Is that why you seek to leave?" she asked gently.
"It's one reason