I nodded, chagrined. “Aye, more or less.”
Bao exhaled. “I knew I should have thumped that Raphael over the head,” he remarked. “Next time, I won’t hesitate.”
“Have I ruined our wedding?” I asked in a miserable tone.
“No.” Bao cupped my face in his hands “No,” he said a second time, his breath warm on my skin. “I told you before. I love you as you are, Moirin. I would not change anything about you, even the fact that you have the will and morals of an alley-cat, because that is as your gods made you, and it is part of the reason for your very large heart.” He smiled wryly. “Although I might have wished for a few days of wedded bliss before life with you got stranger.”
I laughed, relieved and glad once more.
Bao kissed me-once gently, a second time with the rising heat of desire. I felt our diadh-anam blaze brighter than ever with the approval of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself; and then a second burst of brightness, warm and golden, a soft thunderclap all around us like a thousand doves taking flight at once, turning the blood molten in our veins and filling our mouths with a sweetness like honey.
Naamah’s blessing settled over us, over the entire charmed garden and everyone in it, driving away now and forever any doubt that her gifts carried any taint of a curse. I heard soft cries of wonder as folk turned to one another and embraced spontaneously.
My magpie prince lifted his head, eyes wide with awe. “That was…”
He had removed his turban hours ago, and now I ran one hand through his thick, unruly hair, tugging his head down to kiss me again. “That,” I whispered against his lips, “was Naamah’s blessing. And I do believe she approves of this marriage.”
Bao smiled and pulled me closer to him, one strong, lean arm snaking around my waist. “I do believe I’m ready for this party to end, Moirin.”
I nodded, the golden warmth of Naamah’s blessing still coursing through my veins, fanning the flames of desire. “Oh, yes!”
And so we said our thanks to our guests and our ever-gracious hostess Amrita, who regarded us with laughter in her eyes; and I couldn’t help but smile fondly at her, still a little in love with her, in love with the whole world tonight. And with the heady mantle of Naamah’s grace hovering over us all, it felt as though the whole love-struck, desire-smitten, intoxicated world returned the favor.
“Go, go!” Amrita said in her musical voice, making a shooing gesture at us, a rare gleam of devilry in her lustrous gaze. “I know your impatience very well, dear one.”
Bao stifled a cough.
“What do you mean, Mama-ji?” Ravindra inquired in a puzzled tone.
“It is more grown-up teasing, young highness,” Bao informed him. “Trust me when I tell you that you would rather not understand the jest.”
“Oh.” Ravindra gave him a dubious look. “All right.”
Laughing, we took our leave of the party.
Our bedchamber had been filled with flowers and candles, and Bao and I made love for long hours that night, surrounded by fragrance and flickering candlelight, and it was by turns tender and sweet, and fierce and urgent, and all of it was good, so good, sanctified by Naamah’s lingering blessing.
Somewhere in the small hours of the night, Bao surrendered to sleep as we lay together in a quiet moment.
I lay propped on one elbow and watched him sleep, his face as serene in repose as it never was when he was awake, as calm and beautiful as an effigy of the Enlightened One, a Dharma saint with a warrior’s body.
And I thought how his journey to this moment was as long and strange as mine: a Ch’in peasant-boy sold into slavery, stubborn enough to take his destiny into his own hands no matter what the cost. A stick-fighting prince of thugs who had walked away from the entire life he’d built to become Master Lo’s magpie. A leader of men, a rescuer of princesses and dragons. One called twice-born, one who had died and been restored to life.
A Tatar prince, struggling against an unwanted destiny.
Jagrati’s favorite.
My husband.
Even in my thoughts, the word sounded strange to me; strange, but right. Like as not, I would be a dreadful wife. But Bao knew it and was not afraid.
For the first time in longer than I could recall, I felt the tug of destiny on my diadh-anam, our diadh-anam, grow a little more urgent, a little more insistent. Bao made a faint noise in his sleep. I glanced westward, wondering what awaited us.
Oceans; further oceans.
I wondered how many.
There was Jehanne’s motherless daughter, whom I had promised to tell about her mother’s courage of heart and the love and kindness and generosity she had shown to me. One day, I would tell her about the genuine fears that underlay Jehanne’s foibles, and the steadily increasing joy and excitement with which she had welcomed her daughter’s birth.
And there was ambitious and charismatic Raphael de Mereliot, not content with the gift of a physician’s healing hands; Raphael, who had nearly been taken over entirely by the last demon he summoned.
We had saved him, Bao and I and Master Lo. We had driven away the demon Focalor, a Grand Duke of the Fallen. But I had always wondered about something I saw that day, after the demon had been forced to relinquish Raphael, after I had thrust him through the doorway and closed it. After it was all over, I thought I’d seen the briefest glimpse of Focalor’s lightning flicker in Raphael’s storm-grey eyes, and wondered if a trace of the demon’s essence lingered in him.
If the divine spark of my diadh-anam could be divided, mayhap a demon’s spirit could be, too.
That same feather of foreboding brushed along my spine, making me shiver.
“Moirin,” Bao mumbled sleepily, half-awakened by my shudder. “Stop thinking and go to sleep. And no dreams tonight, huh?”
“It’s just-”
“Sleep,” he said a bit more firmly.
So I settled alongside him, my head on his shoulder, and Bao held me in his Kurugiri-marked arms, his entire body making a strong, safe haven for me, a pledge of enduring love. His breathing softened into sleep once more, a soothing and calming rhythm. Although I did not think I could sleep yet, my breathing slowed to match his as it had so many times before, and I thought that there was nowhere else I would rather be, and no one else with whom I’d rather face my everlasting destiny. Traces of Naamah’s blessing lingered over us both like a promise that one day, every day would be as joyous as this one.
Somewhere, the bright lady smiled in gentle approval.
Somewhere on the far side of the stone doorway, the Maghuin Dhonn Herself paced in majesty, lifted Her mighty head, and gazed at the errant child She had loosed on the world with love and pride in Her deep, deep eyes.
A word surfaced in my thoughts. Home-the gods were calling me home, and I was ready to go.
Whatever came next, Bao and I would face it together.
As candles guttered low and sank into pools of wax all across the bedchamber, and I drifted down toward darkness, a sigh of happiness escaped me.
I slept, and did not dream.
Jacqueline Carey
