Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [79]
Heads turned.
We had a clear path to the dais where the King and Queen were seated and exchanging pleasantries with the elderly couple who had preceded us. My nails dug into Raphael's arm as we approached. I could hear the whispers.
"That's the one!"
"… found her in the street…"
"… half-Cruithne, by the look of her."
I wished the elderly couple ahead of us would never leave. I had begun to think this was a very bad idea and wanted very much to be elsewhere. But, of course, they finished their business with their majesties and moved aside, and I was brought face-to-face with King Daniel and Queen Jehanne.
He was a tall, well-built man of middle years with dark hair, blue eyes, and a bemused smile on his face.
She was exquisite.
It was the sort of beauty my mother had described long ago—a fearful symmetry, keen as a blade. And yet it was delicate and ephemeral, too—as delicate as the petals of an orchid. Her hair was pale gold, so pale it was almost silvery. It was piled atop her head in an intricate coronet, a lone lock left loose to curl along the graceful column of her white throat. Her skin was so fair, it was nearly translucent.
Her eyes…
Jehanne de la Courcel's eyes were a light hue of blue-grey, like periwinkle blossoms. They sparkled unexpectedly as her gaze swept up to meet mine, her chin rising as she took stock of me.
"Oh, my." Her voice was sweet and light and teasing. "Are you a rival or a present?"
I flushed.
"Your majesties." Raphael bowed. "Congratulations to his majesty on the occasion of his natality." He beckoned to Jean-Michel, who came forward to present the potted orchid with a bow. "A small token from a rare strain Master Lo Feng and I have been cultivating."
"Yes, my thanks, very nice, I'm sure." King Daniel waved for a servant to take it away. His bemused gaze rested on me. "And you are…? Forgive me, I didn't recognize the name. Mac Fainche? That's Eiran nomenclature, but I fear I don't follow."
"Raphael is having a jest," the Queen said lightly. "Haven't you heard? His carriage struck down some poor lass in the street a week ago and he's taken her into his household to make amends." She snapped open a fan and fluttered it. "Isn't that so?"
"It is," Raphael agreed in a smug tone, deliberately drawing out the moment of revelation. I had a strong urge to kick him in the shins.
"As always, your solicitude is to be commended." Jehanne's fan fluttered. "But it's quite unfair of you to misrepresent the child—and quite inappropriate at a royal fete." She laughed. "Lady Moirin? You do the poor girl an unkindness. Not everyone recognizes your sense of humor, my lord."
"Nor when it is absent." Raphael bowed again. "This is no jest. Surely, your majesties would wish me to extend every kindness to a descendant of House Courcel itself."
A gasp ran through the room.
The King glanced at me in inquiry.
"Daughter of Fainche, daughter of Eithne, daughter of Brianna, daughter of Alais," I said to him, executing a passable curtsy. "Of the folk of the Maghuin Dhonn. Well met, your majesty."
He stared.
No one spoke.
It was Jehanne who broke the silence with laughter. It was a bright, infectious sound. "Tell me it's true!" she said to Raphael. Something unspoken passed between them. She shook her head, diamond eardrops scattering myriad points of light. "A bear-witch? Only you would dare!"
"Oh, it's true." Raphael rocked back on his heels a little, clearly enjoying himself. "Moirin has a signet ring passed down for generations, and a letter of introduction from Bryony Associates authenticating it."
"Moirin can speak for herself," I said with irritation.
"She's here searching for her father," he continued. "It seems he was a Priest of Naamah."
Queen Jehanne arched one perfect brow. "Oh, my."
The news went around the great hall in a whispering susurrus. I felt hot and conspicuous. For a mercy, the King raised one hand, and silence followed.
"Well met, Lady Moirin," he said firmly. "For generations, the existence of descendants of House Courcel among your