Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [72]
He winced. "Must you keep saying that name aloud?"
"It's not bad luck!" I said in exasperation. "That's just a silly superstition put about a thousand years ago when Cinhil Ru claimed the Maghuin Dhonn had slain their own diadh-anam. It was never true. They know better in Alba these days, even if we are not well loved. They've known better since Alais de la Courcel restored the truce between our folk. Even Caroline no Bryony wasn't afraid to say it, and she's the one commended me to you."
"All right, child!" Benoit raised his hands. "I didn't intend to give offense. And I accepted the commission because the couturieres of Atelier Favrielle relish a challenge more than we fear ought else."
"Even bear-witches?" I asked.
His mouth twisted. "So it seems. Truth be told, you're not a particularly fearful specimen, young and naive as you are."
I thought about Cillian's death. "Not so naive, I fear."
Benoit Vallon studied my face. "Not in the ways of life, mayhap, but the D'Angeline Court is another matter. Have you given thought to my advice?"
"I have," I admitted.
He eased the green dress from my shoulders. "But you mean to stay."
"Yes."
"Elua have mercy." Benoit put the dress away. "Are all of the Mag—" He couldn't bring himself to say it. "Are all of your people this stubborn?"
I laughed. "You ought to meet my mother."
He shook his head. "I'll be back in a day's time for the final fitting. You can't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't," I promised.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
By the eve of my debut, the bronze gown was finished and I had two perfectly suitable dresses for daywear, three pairs of shoes, and a variety of undergarments. My calluses had been softened and smoothed, my nails neatly trimmed and buffed to a shine. The ragged ends of my hair had been trimmed and Benoit had taught me three different ways to style it. There was still some tenderness around my ribs, but the lump at the back of my skull was gone altogether and I hadn't felt sick or disoriented for days.
"I mean to go to the Temple of Naamah today," I informed Raphael at the breakfast table.
He hesitated. "Wouldn't you rather wait until after your debut?"
"No." I slathered a piece of bread with peach preserves. "You would rather I wait until after my debut. Mayhap you have lost sight of the fact that I did not come to Terre d'Ange so that you might surprise and dazzle the Court with your exotic protegee. I came to find my father. And wherever he may be, I'd sooner he learned of my existence before the entire City does."
Raphael smiled. "Protegee, is it?"
I shrugged. "Is that not the right word?"
"No, I reckon it's as good as any. Your vocabulary is surprisingly good, and your accent is improving daily."
"Mm-hmm." I took a bite of jam-smeared bread. "And you are changing the subject. I wasn't asking, Raphael. Unless you mean to imprison me, I'm going. With your assistance, I'll go discreetly by carriage. Without it, I'll go on foot."
"No doubt asking directions all the way," he said wryly.
"No doubt," I agreed.
"Oh, fine." Raphael tossed his linen napkin on the table. "I'll take you; of course I'll take you."
"I don't mean to ruin your surprise," I said apologetically. "But this is important to me."
"Of course it is." He hoisted a cup of the bitter Jebean drink called kavah toward me in a toast. "I'm a right ass for not acknowledging it, Moirin, and you're not ruining anything."
"No?"
"No." Raphael sipped his kavah and stretched out his long legs. "Naamah's priests can keep secrets as well as anyone and better than most." He eyed me. "What do you expect of him?"
"My father?" I had no idea. When I'd set out, I'd hoped my father might be able to point me toward my destiny. Now I suspected it lay in the form of the intriguing, somewhat infuriating, and wholly desirable man across the table from me. "Nothing, I suppose. I want to know him, that's all. What's your father like?"
"Dead," he said briefly.
"Oh." I swallowed. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right, you couldn't have known." Raphael gave me a bleak