SEVENTY
A day; one day.
Ah, gods! It passed all too swiftly. By the time I had finished making my offerings to the ancestors, the sun was already low on the horizon.
I hastened back to the women’s Temple of the Sun, seeking out Ocllo. “I fear I cannot pass the night here, my lady,” I apologized breathlessly to her. “There is a thing I must do that requires time I do not have to explain. But I have done everything Iniquill asked of me, and I will be in the temple on the morrow. Is all in readiness?”
Ocllo frowned at me. “The chicha is brewed, the maidens are prepared. Your old scoundrel of a trader has come to pester the maidens and gather the attire for your men. Beyond that, I cannot say. Lord Pachacuti has sent for you several times.”
I took a deep breath. “It is to him I go. But before I do, I would see Cusi one last time.”
She hesitated. “The holy sacrifice rests in seclusion, preparing for a long night of prayer.”
Helpless, I spread my hands. “Might you ask if she will see me? It would ease my heart.”
Ocllo relented. “I will ask.”
As it transpired, Cusi received me gladly, glancing up with a dimpled smile as I entered her chamber. “I am happy you came, my sister,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I was hoping to say farewell.”
The knot in my chest tightened, and tears stung my eyes. “Cusi—”
She patted at my face. “Do not weep, lady! There is no need to weep. I am not afraid anymore. Tell me, did you offer prayers to the ancestors?”
I took another deep breath. “I did.”
Cusi’s smile deepened. “Did you find them splendid?”
“Aye,” I said honestly. “I did.”
“Then all is well.” Rising on her toes, she kissed my cheek. “All is as it must be, my sister. Go, and do not trouble yourself with further thoughts of me. You have your own duties.”
Wordless, I nodded and held out my hand.
Cusi clasped it firmly, the memory of shared blood pulsing between our joined palms. “Go,” she repeated softly.
I went.
To steal into the palace, it was necessary to summon the twilight again. This, I did. Unseen, I found my way past the ants and sentries to Raphael’s quarters, where I released the twilight and set my wards. Four stones, smoothed by the river. I pricked my hand with the dragon-hilted dagger that had been a gift from my Ch’in princess Snow Tiger what seemed so long ago, reopening the wound Cusi had given me.
I smeared my blood on the rocks, planting them in the four quadrants of the compass along the verges of Raphael de Mereliot’s bedchamber.
There, I waited.
When he came, he was querulous, complaining to his companions. “No, no, it is not the most important thing,” Raphael said irritably. “But I am telling you I need her.” He checked at the sight of me. “Moirin.”
“Raphael.”
He frowned. “Why did you not come when I sent for you?”
I clasped my hands together. “I am here now.”
“How did you get in—” He sighed. “No, never mind. I know full well how you got in here.” Turning, he dismissed his companions. “You may go. I need to speak with her alone.” Once they had left, he closed the door firmly behind them and turned back to me. “Now, about tomorrow—”
I summoned the twilight, and the anchor-stones flared to life, holding the cloak of the twilight in place within their compass.
Raphael startled, then glared at me. “What do you mean by this, Moirin? I’ve seen your magic at work, and I do not fear it.”
“I know,” I said. “It was one of the things that first drew me to you, my lord. When everyone else in Terre d’Ange found the magic of the Maghuin Dhonn strange and fearful, it delighted you. Would that I had known why, and where it would lead us.”
He sighed again. “Moirin, now is not the time—”
I raised my voice. “Jehanne!”
“I told you not to say—” Breaking off, Raphael stared at me.
Moonlight.
That was what it felt like as Jehanne’s spirit filled me—like being filled with moonlight, cool and silver and shimmering. I drew a breath to speak, and found I could not. My tongue was no longer my own.
Forgive me, my beautiful girl. Jehanne’s light voice flowed through my thoughts. I could not explain it before.
I blinked, seeing double for a moment, as though I looked through two sets of eyes. I blinked again and my vision settled. Standing opposite me, Raphael de Mereliot looked stricken.
Jehanne unclasped my hands and raised them, and they were no longer my hands. They were the pampered hands of one who had been raised as a courtesan, lily-fair skin, translucent, polished nails.
She gazed at Raphael, and I gazed through her eyes.
“No!” He recoiled from her, his face twisting in fury. “I know this trick! Do you think my knowledge of arcane history lacking, Moirin? You’ve taken something of hers, you’ve taken on her semblance!”
“It’s not a trick, Raphael.” Jehanne’s voice emerged from my lips, filled with sorrow. “Moirin’s magic creates a doorway. You know that, too. Here before the end, I was allowed to pass through it.”
“You’re dead!” he shouted in anguish. “Name of Elua, Jehanne! I watched you die!”
“I know,” she said softly. “And since that time, I have not been able to move onward because I needed to be here. Here, with you, today. I am your last chance, Raphael. I come to beg you not to do this thing.”
Raphael was shaking. “I cannot believe it. I will not believe it!”
“But you do.” Jehanne approached him. Lifting one hand, she touched his cheek, cupped the back of his neck. “You know me, Raphael de Mereliot. You know my touch.” Stretching upward, she kissed his lips. “You know me.”
With a groan, Raphael sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her. “Why, Jehanne?” he asked in a muffled voice. “Ah, gods! Why here, why now? Why did you leave me? Why?”
“Hush.” She stroked his hair. “You know why I am here. I told you. And I never stopped loving you.”
“You died!”
“Yes.” Jehanne’s hand, my hand, went still for a moment. “Believe me, it is not the fate I would have chosen. We cannot always choose our fates. But you can. Here, today.”
“No.” Raphael shook his head. Wrenching himself away from her, he staggered to his feet, wild-eyed. “Moirin, stop it! This is some trick of yours. I swear to Elua, I’ll feed your precious husband to the ants if you do not cease!”
“Moirin can banish me if she wills it,” Jehanne said steadily. “All she has to do is release her magic, and I will be gone from your presence forever. Is that what you will?”
He was silent.
Jehanne went to him again. “Raphael, our deeds have repercussions. If not in this life, in the next.” She gestured at herself. “Or in a limbo betwixt the two. I beg you to heed me, and turn aside from this course.”
Raphael searched her face. “Will you stay if I do?”
She shook her head. “I cannot.”
His expression hardened. “Then you have nothing to offer me. I will take my chances with the gods. What can they take from me that has not already been taken?”
“You would not ask that question if you had children,” Jehanne murmured. “It is my life’s greatest regret that I was taken from mine.”
“Daniel’s daughter!” Raphael shouted at her. “Must you throw it in my face?”
“My daughter.” Her voice was unwavering. “Of whom you spoke great folly. How could you even think it for an instant, Raphael?”
He gave a broken laugh. “Why not, Jehanne? Mayhap it was meant to be. She could give me the one thing you could not. Her whole heart.”
“Because you molded her thusly?” She raised her brows, my brows. “It is a profoundly wrong notion that violates the very essence of Blessed Elua’s precept. Did I not pity you so, I should despise you for it. But I tell you, Raphael de Mereliot, you would never love her if you did. We may have fought and quarreled, you and I, but it was always born of the passion that lay between us. You cannot separate one from the other. It was part and parcel of what bound us together.”
“Why wasn’t it enough?” Raphael demanded, tears of frustration and pain in his eyes. “Why did you choose Daniel over me? Don’t tell me the same passion lay between you! Was it mere ambition?”
It was Jehanne’s turn to laugh, and her laughter was as hollow as his. “Oh, Raphael! Would you stand here on the cusp of seeking godhood and chastise me for ambition? It’s true, in the history of Terre d’Ange, no Servant of Naamah had ever risen to the throne. I wanted to be the first. But I loved Daniel, too.” She paused. “He was a good and kind man who loved deeply. But there was such sorrow in him, such grief. And I was able to take it away, at least for a time. When I did…” She drew a deep breath into her lungs. My lungs. “When I did, I truly understood Naamah’s blessing.”
“How can you possibly think telling me such a thing will sway me?” Raphael whispered hoarsely.
If I could have looked away from the pain in his face, I would have; but I was a passenger in my own body, and Jehanne did not look away. “I don’t. I am telling you the truth. It is all I have to offer you.”
He turned his back on her. “It is not enough.”
She smiled with regret. “Then I will ask you a lesser boon. Raphael, you must release Moirin from her oath.”
“No.”
“Moirin will lose her magic the moment she honors it,” Jehanne said simply. “And you will fail.”
Raphael turned back to her with a scowl. “What new lie is this?”
“No lie.” She shook her head. “I am not able to lie anymore. The oath Moirin swore to you is in conflict with another. She is Desirée’s oath-sworn protector. While you mean to take my daughter to wife and mold her spirit, Moirin cannot honor both oaths. Her diadh-anam will be extinguished.”
He raised his own brows. “And why, pray tell, would Moirin not tell me such a thing if it were true?”
With unrelenting honesty, Jehanne exposed my plan of last resort. “Because she is willing to make that sacrifice to prevent you from succeeding.”
Ah, gods! I would not have consented to this if I had known it was what she meant to do. I thought of banishing the twilight, but the damage was done.
Peace, Moirin. Jehanne’s voice poured through my thoughts once more. It is not finished.
Raphael frowned in thought. “You came here to sway me from my course, Jehanne. It makes no sense at all for you to warn me of such a pitfall.”
“I came here to offer you the truth,” she said calmly. “It is what I was meant to do. More than that, I cannot know.”
For a long moment, they gazed at one another, and a faint hope flickered in me that somehow, against all odds, Jehanne’s words had reached him. It died when Raphael shook his head. “No,” he said. “I do not trust Moirin to keep her word without her oath; and I do not entirely trust that this is not some trick of hers.”
“In your heart, you know better,” Jehanne murmured.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “There is another way. Desirée, your daughter… what is the nature of the oath Moirin swore?”
“The Montrèvan Oath,” she said. “Moirin mac Fainche is sworn to regard Desirée’s interests as her own, to seek to defend her from every danger, and hold her happiness as a matter of sacred trust.”
“Elua have mercy! How did that come about?” Raphael muttered. “I can’t imagine the realm would approve.”
“Daniel willed it so,” she said. “He saw that Moirin was able to love the spark of my spirit that lived on in our daughter, as he himself was unable to do. Daniel trusted her to care for Desirée’s happiness. And in that, I do believe he chose wisely. Moirin has gone to great lengths in her effort to protect my daughter.”
Raphael bowed his head. Locks of tawny hair touched with silver in the twilight spilled over his brow, obscuring his gaze. “It’s why she came here, isn’t it? Searching for Thierry?”
“Yes.”
When he lifted his head, his eyes were wide and clear. “I will not do as you ask. I will not turn away from my course here, Jehanne. And I will not release Moirin from her oath. But…” His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I loved you, Jehanne. More than you knew. For the sake of all that has passed between us, I will do my best to love your daughter.” His mouth twisted. “Not as I threatened. Not as a bridegroom, but as one who might have been her father had matters been otherwise.”
Jehanne was silent.
“I will have the power to protect her,” Raphael said softly. “Gifts such as Moirin never dared dream of possessing, political power such as Thierry could never have hoped to wield. I will hold your daughter Desirée’s happiness as a matter of sacred trust. Everything I can do on her behalf, I will. I give you my oath. Does that not suffice to resolve the conflict?”
It did.
Raphael de Mereliot might turn the rest of the world upside down, raze empires in Terra Nova, but so long as he was pledged to protect Desirée’s happiness, my oath to do the same was no longer in conflict with my oath to aid him.
“Yes,” Jehanne whispered. “Ah, gods! Raphael…”
He closed the distance between them in a few swift steps, cupping her face and kissing her, kissing me, with fierce, starved ardor. Jehanne clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she returned his kiss with the same tempestuous passion; and I was caught between them, even as I had been when my lady was alive.
It was Jehanne who pulled away, genuine anguish in her voice. “Raphael, I cannot stay!”
His hands fell to his sides, turning to fists. “You break my heart,” he said in a low tone. “Over and over.”
“We break each other’s hearts,” Jehanne said quietly. “But we mend them, too. And someday, we may all understand Naamah’s blessing. Now I must go.”
“Don’t —”
Now, Moirin. Jehanne’s thoughts spilled through mine, still tinged with anguish. Please!
I released the twilight.
Just like that, Jehanne’s presence was gone, extinguished like a candle. I dropped to one knee at the suddenness of it, drawing a ragged breath, my head hanging low. My lungs were my own again. My hands, splayed on the floor of Raphael’s bedchamber, were mine—shapely enough, but scratched and callused with the ordeals of travel, my skin golden-brown once more.
“Moirin.”
I looked up at Raphael.
His face was stony, and I knew without another word spoken that he hated me more than ever for having borne witness to this encounter.
“I will keep my oath,” he said. “As I expect you to keep yours. Will you be in the Temple of the Ancestors at dawn on the morrow?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now get out of my sight.”