"Because you're too vain to disfigure your perfect body!" Thierry shouted at her. "It doesn't mean you wouldn't gladly see me dead!"

"Oh, I'm sure the sainted Moirin would have worked some miracle to bring you back from death's doorstep," Jehanne said in a cold voice. Her gaze moved on to me. What had passed between us only yesterday, whether genuine or false, might never have been. It seemed quite impossible to believe that I had ever seen that beautiful face soft with pleasure. "You shot the viper?"

I nodded. "Aye, your majesty."

She gave me a curt nod. "House Courcel is in your debt. You"—she pointed at the Master of the Hunt—"are dismissed from your post."

The man bowed without comment, his face heavy.

Beneath the silk pavilions, we endured a repast that would have been pleasant under other circumstances. Everyone wanted to hear about how I'd shot the viper midstrike. Thierry, recovered from his scare, told them, laughing, how he'd made fun of my bow and teased me about being unable to hunt. I smiled reluctantly. My rustic, unadorned bow of yew-wood and sinew was passed around and admired.

But the Queen's mood cast a pall over everything. I understood better that day why people spoke of her temper in awed terms. It radiated out of her like a cold fire, withering everything in its path. Raphael danced attendance on her, doing his best to coax her into better spirits to no avail.

There was talk of famous hunting accidents going back into history. It seemed Prince Imriel de la Courcel had saved his cousin the Dauphine from a boar, which had been the start of the realm's most notorious romance of the day. The details of the story were argued and Lianne Tremaine was consulted.

"Half-true," the King's Poet said. "As I recall the tale, her horse bolted, and it was Prince Imriel who went after her. Someone else killed the boar. But that was where it began." She gave Thierry and me one of her quick, foxy smiles. "Mayhap you'll follow in their footsteps and give me a great, epic romance to capture in verse."

Thierry grinned. "Mayhap we will."

"Does your diadh-anam say so, Moirin?" Queen Jehanne asked coolly.

I flushed. "My diadh-anam is disconcerted by the day's events," I offered, striving for diplomacy.

She looked away. "I see."

It was ridiculous to feel hurt, but I was—by both her frigid manner and Raphael's utter disregard. So I sat and tried to be pleasant while the others teased Prince Thierry for playing the role of the damsel in distress in our budding epic. He endured it cheerfully. I wished I did feel my diadh-anam quicken for him. I liked him well enough. One might suppose it would be a worthy destiny for one of the Maghuin Dhonn to capture the heart of the heir to Terre d'Ange. It might mean great things for my people. But the spark inside me was quiet.

For a mercy, it was decided that the remainder of the hunt was to be canceled after we dined. Thierry professed himself sore from his fall and suggested an excursion to Balm House.

"The adepts there are among the best masseurs in the world." He smiled at me. "Will you allow me to treat you? It will be my first act of thanks for your saving my life."

Miserable as I was, the idea didn't appeal. I fidgeted with my bow. "Viper bites aren't necessarily fatal, you know."

"They can be." Thierry nudged me. "Say yes."

"Mayhap Moirin has yet to recover from her visit to Cereus House yesterday," Lianne Tremaine drawled. "How was your assignation?"

Hot blood scalded my face. "Oh….." I glanced involuntarily at Jehanne. A hint of a cruel smile curved her lips. "Fine."

Lianne pressed me. "Oh, come! Who did you have?"

If I could have sunk into the earth, I would have. "Forgive me, but I'm not accustomed to speaking freely about such matters," I said in desperation. "It's not done among the Maghuin Dhonn."

The King's Poet looked puzzled. "But you're the one told me yourself that—" She caught herself before humiliating me outright by informing the entire hunting party that Raphael de Mereliot had told me I had a lot to learn in bed.

"Oh, leave her be!" Thierry put an arm around my shoulders. "Moirin's been busy saving lives and limbs. I reckon we can give her a few days' grace to accustom herself to D'Angeline ways."

"Visiting Cereus House makes for an ambitious start," Balthasar Shahrizai observed. His vivid blue eyes studied me keenly, the sharp edges of his gift probing. "What made you choose it?"

Once again, my gaze slid toward Jehanne.

"Ah yes, of course." Balthasar smiled and said something in a foreign tongue. The others laughed.

Thierry's face darkened. "Enough," he said shortly. "Let's be off."

As we rode back toward the palace, I asked him what Balthasar had said.

"Nothing of import." He grimaced. "A Caerdicci proverb about two women competing for the same man."

"Oh." At least Balthasar had misunderstood my glance. In a way, he wasn't wrong. I had chosen Cereus House because Jehanne had trained there. "Thierry, do you really think she wishes you dead?"

"Jehanne?" He didn't answer right away. "No, I suppose not."

"Then why is she so angry at me for killing the viper?" I asked.

Thierry gave a short laugh. "Moirin, she's not angry at you for saving my life. She's angry because it made you the center of attention. In her world, Jehanne is the sun and the rest of us are but humble planets orbiting around her."

"Oh." It didn't make me feel better. I didn't want to be the center of attention. In fact, I didn't have the slightest idea what I wanted anymore. All I knew was that I was a wretched knot of conflicting desires. I wished I'd never gotten caught up in this mess, wished I didn't feel bound to Raphael, wished I'd never let Jehanne seduce me. I wished there was one person in this bedamned realm I could truly trust, so I could at least talk openly with another living soul without finding my confidence betrayed.

I wished my mother were here.

The thought made me so homesick, I nearly wept. I would have given up every gown and bauble Raphael had given me and Thierry's lovely filly for five minutes of my mother's counsel. The meadow swam in my gaze. With one surreptitious hand, I rubbed my eyes hard enough that I saw red streaks behind my eyelids.

When I opened my eyes, I still saw a splash of red.

On the far side of the meadow, two men were coming toward us, one mounted and one on foot. It was the latter that made the red splash. He was tall and graceful, and he wore robes of crimson silk.

My heart beat faster.

"That's the Due de Barthelme," Thierry said in a wondering tone. "What's he doing out here with a Priest of Naamah?"

"Looking for me, I hope," I whispered.

Ahead of me, I saw Raphael say something to Jehanne, then check his mount. She glanced back at me, her expression thawing visibly. She drew rein on her pretty white mare and gestured to me.

I rode forward alone.

The priest had hair the color of oak leaves, long and shining. He lifted his head and smiled as I drew near. It was a beautiful smile, calm and serene, like a gift. Everything about him was like a gift. And his eyes were very, very green. As green as grass, as green as rushes.

"Moirin, daughter of Fainche?" he asked.

I nodded.

His beautiful smile deepened. "I believe I'm your father."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

At that moment, nothing in the world could have felt better than my father's embrace.

I didn't plan to throw myself at the man—after all, we were strangers to one another. But he had appeared like an answered prayer, and the look of simple gladness on his face as I dismounted undid me. I flung my arms around his neck. He didn't flinch or falter, only held me in his arms. I buried my face against the shoulder of his robe for a long moment, then gathered myself and pulled away.

I wiped my eyes. "Phanuel Demarre?"

"Indeed." He studied my face with wonder, then gave himself an unselfconscious shake and laughed softly. "I'm sorry. I came as soon as I heard the news. I always wondered, but it's somewhat altogether else to see you in the flesh."

He introduced me to Rogier Courcel, the Due de Barthelme, who bowed in the saddle.

"Well met, my lady," he said politely.

The rest of the hunting party arrived. Behind the polite exchange of greetings the whispers went around, but there was no malice in them. Both Raphael and Thierry looked genuinely happy for me. Lianne Tremaine wore an odd, absent look as though she were jotting notes in her head lest the scene play out one day in some epic verse.

Even Jehanne was different in my father's presence. "Your daughter's caused quite the stir, Brother Phanuel," she commented.

My father smiled and laid one hand on my shoulder. "So I've heard."

"Surely not the latest." Something in his smile softened her tone. "Not an hour ago, she saved the Dauphin's life."

He glanced at me. "Oh?"

In the oddest way, it reminded me of my mother. "It was only a viper," I said. "They're not always fatal. I'll tell you all about it if you'd like."

"I would," he said solemnly. "I would like to hear every last little detail of your life, Moirin, from your birth to whatever uproar you've been causing. But I don't wish to interrupt." He shrugged and spread his hands with self-deprecating grace. "As I said, I came as soon as I heard."

"Oh, go," Prince Thierry said in his good-natured way. "Balm House can wait. Would you prefer to ride, Brother Phanuel? No doubt we can find a mount to spare."

My father shook his head. "I like to walk."

"Walking's nice," I agreed.

"Well, then, so be it." Thierry gestured for a servant to take my filly's reins. "I'll see her delivered to Lord de Mereliot's stables."

Raphael…..

I'd promised yesterday that I would show him what I'd learned at Cereus House later today. I gave him a guilty look, but his grey eyes were gentle and warm. No stormclouds.

"This is what you came to find," he reminded me. "Go and enjoy one another's company. My household will be open to you day or night."

I looked shyly at my father.

He tilted his head, sunlight spinning the shining length of his oak-brown hair, and reached out one hand. "Shall we?"

I clasped his hand. "Aye."

We walked.

We talked.

I wanted first to hear the story of my conception. I suppose it might have been strange for some, but my father was a Priest of Naamah and he had no compunctions in discussing such matters. He told me about how he'd first glimpsed my mother at Lord Tiernan's coronation, hovering near the doors of the Hall of Innisclan.

"Such an eldritch little thing she was!" he marveled. "Such dark, wild eyes! I knew right away she must be of the Maghuin Dhonn. No one else mortal could have looked so uncanny in that place."

"Did it scare you?" I asked.

He shook his head. "It drew me."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he said softly. "Only that it did, and that Naamah smiled on it. You've a look of your mother, you know."

I smiled wryly. "Here they say I've a look of you."

"Both," my father acknowledged. "For I knew you in an instant."

It was true. I stole glances at him as we walked through the royal hunting grounds and I told him of my childhood and youth in Alba. After two weeks in the City of Elua, I was far more familiar with my own appearance than I'd ever been in my life. The line of his jaw and throat—I'd inherited those. His full, generous lips, too, although I was quite certain my smile didn't have the same calm beauty. I looked at our clasped hands. Like mine, his fingers were long and tapered. They squeezed mine in warm sympathy when I told him about Cillian.

We paused in a glade where he showed me a spring half-hidden beneath browning ferns. The water was cold and good. My father perched on a low, rocky ledge, his robes spilling around him.

"Is that why you left?" he asked. "Cillian's death?"

I touched the dying fronds with the tip of one finger. Already, the plants were half-asleep, dwindling into their roots. "No. Do you sense plants? What they're feeling?"

"Sense them?" He knit his brows. "How?"

"Like these." The brown fronds rustled when I stroked them. "They're going to sleep for the winter."

"I can see that they are," he said. "That's not what you mean, is it?"

"No." I blew a few dry spores from the back of my hand. "I thought mayhap it was a gift of Anael's line. You're of his lineage as well as Naamah's, are you not?"

My father looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"The priestess at the temple told me," I admitted. "But I've seen him in my thoughts, too. When I was little, I called him the man with the seedling."

"Naamah, too?"

I nodded. "The bright lady. The first time I saw her was the first time I remember Oengus coming to visit, and he and my mother went into the woods to make love."

"Oengus?" he inquired, then waved away the question. "No mind, that's not important. Is that why you came, then? Did the gods of Terre d'Ange call to you?"

"No." I shifted restlessly. "It's not that they didn't, but….." I decided to simply ask. "Do I have a destiny?"