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He kissed me. "I'll tell the Circle. "
It was almost a week before I felt strong enough to return to the City and resume my lessons with Master Lo Feng. There had been a cold snap while I was recuperating. The ground was frozen hard and there were only a few brittle brown leaves clinging to the trees. This time we met in a small courtyard at the Academy. Bao had already spread the mats around a small, ornate brazier. Neither of them seemed to feel the cold. I was wearing a fine new cloak that Benoit Vallon had designed for me—thick, luxuriant sable velvet lined with gold silk. I wrapped it around me and shivered.
Master Lo Feng gave me a long, long look, but he didn't reprimand me.
"Sit," he said. "Learn the Breath of Glowing Embers. "
I sat, shivering and obedient.
Bao leaned over the brazier and blew softly on the coals. Their hot crimson hearts quickened, turning bright orange. They pulsed beneath a fine coating of ash, colors shifting like fiery jewels.
"The embers breathe in air and breathe out heat," Lo Feng said. "Even as we breathe in cool yin energy and exhale hot yang. The human heart is your precious ember. Breathe through your mouth into your heart. Feel the energy you inhale stoke it. Feel it pulse within you. Breathe out its heat. "
It was hard. I was too cold to concentrate. I gazed at the embers, trying to find the rhythm.
I gazed at Master Lo Feng. His serene face comforted me, but it didn't help.
I gazed at Bao.
Like his mentor, he sat so very still in repose. But his face wasn't serene. He breathed through parted lips, faster than I would have thought by the slight rise and fall of his chest. His face was exhilarated. I knew without being told that fire was the element closest to his nature.
I matched my breathing to his and realized that it resonated with the shifting hues of fire within the coals.
In and out.
Flaring and fading in time with my beating heart.
Bao opened his eyes. "You not cold anymore. "
I startled at the sound of his voice—and realized it was true. I wasn't exactly warm, but the cold that had permeated my bones was dispelled.
"Bao. " Master Lo Feng delivered the gentle reproof without opening his eyes.
Bao gave me a faint smile and closed his eyes.
I closed mine, too, and breathed.
Somewhere in the days that followed, Raphael and Jehanne made up their quarrel. He didn't tell me about it, but he didn't have to. I knew her scent. I wondered if he'd promised to give me up after all. I wanted to ask him, but every time I thought about it, the topaz jewel of Marbas' gift sparkled in my thoughts, sending a covert pang of guilt through me. I kept quiet. After the next summoning, I would ask him.
There was a fete to celebrate the debut of a new poem by Lianne Tremaine. I accepted an invitation to attend as Prince Thierry's guest, assuming that Raphael would be escorting the Queen. I was wrong, but Raphael dealt graciously with it.
"No mind," he said when I told him. "I'll just be another courtier dancing attendance on her majesty. "
"You're not angry?" I wished he would be, just a little.
He laughed and shook his head. "You're a free woman in Terre d'Ange, Moirin. Thierry's a handsome lad and the heir to the throne. " And then he kissed me, his tongue probing my mouth, until desire flooded my loins. Raphael lifted his head, eyes gleaming. "Besides, he doesn't make you feel like that, does he?"
"You can be cruel," I informed him.
He only laughed again. "You're the one chose to let yourself be courted by the Dauphin. "
It felt passing strange to see Lianne declaim her poem. I'd met her as the King's Poet, but I'd come to know her better as a member of the Circle, a white-robed figure engaged in shadowy rituals in a barren stone chamber. Here she wore a gown of bronze silk that suited her coloring and stood before the glittering court in a well-lit salon, speaking in measured tones.
She was very good.
Her speaking voice was pleasant enough, but it was her words that stirred the heart. The conceit of the poem was that it was written in the voice of a long-dead poet, Anafiel Delaunay, mourning his slain lover. Thierry explained to me in a low whisper that these things were all true, that Delaunay had been a famous poet and the beloved of Prince Rolande de la Courcel, one of his own ancestors and mine.
"Rolande was killed in the Battle of Three Princes," he whispered. "And although he mourned him deeply, Anafiel Delaunay—you might know him better as Anafiel de Montreve, the mentor of Phedre no Delaunay de Montreve—never did write about his grief. "
I nodded and bade him to hush.
It was a terrible, beautiful poem—at once vivid, yet spare and haunting. At first I thought it was brave of Lianne to write from a man's perspective about things she couldn't possibly have experienced—the horror of warfare, the clamor and chaos of the battlefield, the agony of seeing one's beloved cut down before one's eyes. But soon I forgot about the author, caught up rapt in the experience as she gave voice to one man's measureless grief.
There was silence when she finished. Everyone looked to the King and Queen to take a cue from their response. I wiped my eyes, wondering why someone with such a gift would seek even more.
And I wondered, too, what it would be like to love someone so deeply that it felt as though your own heart died with them.
"Magnificent. " King Daniel applauded, and we all followed suit. He rose to present Lianne with a token of appreciation, a sapphire pendant on a gold chain. She bowed her head and he placed it around her neck. Jehanne approached and took Lianne's hands in hers, kissed her on both cheeks. I stifled a spasm of envy. Her blue-grey eyes were bright with tears and there wasn't a trace of artifice in her expression.
Afterward, servants circulated with trays of delicacies and wine. My appetite was finally returning after the last summoning. I ate three flaky pastries in quick succession and drank a glass of red wine.
"That was fast," Thierry said with a smile. He took my empty glass. "Where's the fellow with the wine-jug? I'll go find him. "
I smiled back at him. "Thank you. "
I thought I should congratulate Lianne and tell her how much I liked the poem, but there was a throng of people around her. Near the doorway into the salon, the King and Queen were speaking quietly, their heads close together, guards in House Courcel livery standing a respectful distance behind them.
Curiosity overcame me.
No one was looking. I summoned the twilight and stole near.
"—made you melancholy, didn't it?" Jehanne was saying. She searched his face. "Let me leave with you. "
"No, no. " Daniel raised her slender white hand to his lips, kissed her palm, and folded her fingers over it. "Stay. Please stay. You know I'm bad company at such times. "
She smiled up at him. Tears yet sparkled in her eyes. "Never. "
"Liar," he said fondly. "Leave me to my memories, Jehanne. I'll see you anon. "
Jehanne pressed his hand to her cheek. "You're sure?"
He withdrew it gently. "I'm sure. Go tend to your errant courtier. " A shadow crossed his face. "Do you think you might manage to keep him out of whatever trouble he's courting?"
She sighed. "Elua knows, I'm trying. "
"I know. " King Daniel kissed her lips, then took his leave. She gazed after him with an expression of such tenderness and sorrow, it made my heart ache for her.
And then she squared her shoulders and turned to sweep back into the salon, so quickly and decisively that the swirling skirt of her gown grazed mine.
I took two hurried strides backward and collided with a servant. A tray of savory tarts clattered to the floor. I winced, letting the twilight slip away.
The manservant gaped, then scrambled to clean up the mess, muttering apologies. Everyone in the room stared.
Jehanne regarded me without speaking.
I closed my eyes. "I'm so very sorry, your m
ajesty. "
"Are you?" she asked.
With reluctance, I opened my eyes. Her exquisite face was utterly unreadable. I'd trespassed where I had no business going, and both of us knew it. I answered honestly. "Yes. "
"Good. " She swept past me.
The denizens of the Court turned their attention elsewhere.
Prince Thierry approached, two glasses of wine in hand, looking good-natured and puzzled. "Where did you go? I couldn't find you. And what in the seven hells was that all about?"
"Ohhh…. . " I took the glass he handed me and drank half of it at a single draught. The wine sang in my veins, making me feel dizzy and lightheaded. I breathed the Breath of Earth's Pulse, centering myself. "Nothing important. "
He clinked the rim of his glass to mine. "I'm glad. "
I bedded him that night.
I didn't mean to. It was selfish on my part. I knew Thierry had strong feelings for me—stronger than mine for him. It was like Gillian all over again. And yet I missed Cillian as much as I mourned him. He had been my friend before he was my lover. And I yearned to want and be wanted in that simple way it had been between us at the beginning.
Thierry gave me that.
He didn't ask until Raphael bade me farewell for the night. He didn't say he'd be spending it with Jehanne in her quarters, but it was clear.
"Take the carriage, Moirin. " Raphael touched my cheek before drifting past me. "I'll see you at home anon. "
Anon and anon and anon.
Too many anons.
Why should I be jealous? I was there with the Dauphin of my own accord.
"Stay. " Thierry's hands were on my shoulders. He kissed me. He tasted of wine and innocence. It didn't set my blood afire, but it was nice. "I'll send someone to dismiss de Mereliot's driver. Stay. "
"All right. "
Thierry was a skilled lover. I should have expected it; he was the heir to Terre d'Ange. And he brought to our bed all the unstinting ardor I could have wished of Raphael, for I was its focus. Not my gifts, just me. I performed the languisement Jehanne had taught me on him, relishing his groans of pleasure and the hot, irresistible rush of his seed spilling into my mouth. He returned the favor until I begged him to stop.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he entered me. "So are you," I whispered back.
And I wept silent tears, because it was true. He was young and kind and beautiful, and it wasn't enough. But for one night, I pretended it was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Claire Fourcay finished speaking the first conjuration. I pushed and opened the doorway.
Thanks, mayhap, to Master Lo Feng's teaching, I was more aware of myself and the flow of my own energy than I had been. When the crimson light erupted, I understood in my flesh and blood that there was a toll to be paid for keeping the door open. I could feel it ebbing steadily from me.
The extent of its cost would be determined when it closed.
Caim manifested as an ordinary man, olive-skinned and hawk-nosed, a wooden staff held loosely in one hand.
A sigh of relief ran around the Circle.
Orien de Legasse put the first question to him in their unintelligible tongue. Claire Fourcay had chalk poised over her tablet lest he write it in fiery letters.
Instead, the spirit bowed politely and spoke at length.
"Oh, hell!" someone swore. "Tell me he didn't just say what I think he said. "
"He did," Orien said grimly.
I shifted into the twilight. I'd learn more there.
The spirit greeted me. Moirin.
"Aye," I agreed. "You're Caim?"
I am. In the world half a step away from the mortal one, Caim was still mostly human. But antlers like a young buck's rose from his brow, a tangled bird's nest wedged in one fork. His eyes were round and golden like a hunting owl's. They regarded me curiously. The bear's child does not require this gift. Why have you summoned me?
I gestured at the shadowy Circle. "For them. What trick did you play them?"
His round, golden eyes flared. No trick.
"They're angry. "
Yes. Cairn looked complacent. I am teaching them the language of ants. It is composed of scent and touch. When I am finished, I will teach them the language of crickets. You will have collapsed by then and the doorway will have closed, but if it were not, I would proceed to the language of honeybees, which is composed largely of dance. It is quite fascinating.
I didn't know whether to laugh or weep. "Why? Marbas gave me his gift with a single roar. Surely you could do the same. Would it be such a bad thing for humans to have greater understanding?"
He shook his head. The bird's nest lodged in his antlers wobbled. You sense the thoughts and feelings of your animal brethren. Your people never lost that bond. This is different. If you were to truly comprehend in its entirety the language of every creature on earth that creeps, crawls, flies, and swims, the cacophony would drive you mad. No mortal could endure it.
I sighed. "Why offer the gift at all?"
Cairn's round eyes glowed. It is the game.
Jehanne's words in the Hall of Games came back to me. This was a game I was bound to lose. I bowed to Caim. "Thank you for your honesty. "
He returned the bow. A trio of baby thrushes poked their heads out of the bird's nest. And you for your courtesy.
I let go the twilight.
A wave of weakness spilled over me. In the center of the six-pointed star, Caim-the-man was still speaking. The members of the Circle all had peculiar looks on their faces. Wavering on my feet, I waited until Caim paused, then tugged Raphael's arm. Raphael looked at me, his nostrils twitching.
"Tell the Circle to dismiss him," I said. "I won't make it past crickets. "
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