Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [74]
I laid my hand on his chest. "Will it please you?"
Raphael covered my hand with his. "That's not important."
"Strangely, I find that it is." I smiled ruefully. "All right. Will her majesty the Queen shriek and snatch at my hair in a fit of jealous rage?"
He laughed. "No. Most assuredly not."
I squeezed his hand against me. "Then I've naught to fear and I may as well please you, since I'm in your debt."
The door to the temple had a knocker in the shape of a plump dove nestled on a perch. Raphael raised it and rapped sharply. My heart leapt into my throat. I wondered if I would recognize my father if he came to the door. Oengus' long-ago words echoed in my memory. Milky-white skin and green, green eyes.
I wondered what I'd say to him.
I wished my mother were here.
"Do you seek sanctuary?" It was a woman clad in crimson robes who opened the door. She had a lovely face that was aging beautifully, honey-gold hair fading with grey. Warm, hazel eyes. "In Naamah's name, be welcome here."
Raphael bowed. "My lady priestess—"
"Oh!" Her hands flew up to press her cheeks. She ignored him and gazed at me, her eyes wide. "You've come a long way, haven't you? All the way from the far side of Alba?"
"I have," I agreed.
"You're Phanuel's daughter. He said you might come one day." The priestess laughed with delight. "Oh, please!" She gave me the kiss of greeting with unabashed warmth. "Come in, come in!"
My head spun. "He knows? You expected me?"
"No and yes." She clasped my hands in hers. "Come inside, won't you? We need to speak." She cast a sidelong glance at Raphael, her eyes sparkling. "You, too, my lord de Mereliot."
He bowed.
Inside the Temple of Naamah, we were served honeycakes and hot tea sweetened with milk and honey. Once proper introductions were made, I learned that the priestess' name was Noemie d'Etoile. To my disappointment, I also learned that my father was not present in the City at this time.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"Wandering," she said. "Phanuel's never been one to stay in one place for any length of time. But he'll be back in a month's time or so." She smiled. "Sooner if he hears word of your appearance." She shook a scolding finger at Raphael. "You've been keeping secrets, my lord."
"Ah, but think what a delightful surprise it will make," he said, unperturbed.
"Is there no way to contact him?" I asked.
Noemie shook her head. "Not when he's wandering afield. He goes where whim takes him. Namarre or L'Agnace, usually."
"L'Agnace," I mused. "Anael's province?"
"Indeed." She nodded. "Phanuel's mother was of Naamah's line, a very old and pure one. But by all accounts, his father was a L'Agnacite farm boy." She misread the look on my face. "There's no shame in it, child. No matter what the peers of the realm would have you believe, the blood of Elua and his Companions runs just as true in farmers and herders and cheese-makers as it does the peerage."
"Betimes more so," Raphael agreed.
"It's not that," I murmured. "It's just that I've seen him, too. Anael, the Good Steward."
"Seen him?" His voice sharpened.
"Only in my thoughts," I hastened to add. "Not like—" I cut my words short, not wanting to talk about the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. It was too private. "I saw them first when I was little, before I had names for them. Naamah and Anael. I called her the bright lady. He was the man with the seedling." Noemie was gazing at me with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. I cleared my throat. "You said was."
She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Was," I repeated. "When you spoke of Phanuel's mother and father, you said was. Do I have no surviving grandparents?"
"Ah." Her face softened. "As to his mother, I fear not. She died of a wasting illness some seven or eight years ago. As to his father… Phanuel never knew his name. His mother kept no record of it." She touched my arm. "It's not unusual for those of us who serve