“Oh.” He seemed disappointed. “I will send for Mademoiselle Tremaine, of course.” He beckoned, and two charming attendants who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen hurried over. “Wine for our guests, and a summons to Mademoiselle Tremaine.”
“I would not mind seeing the tumblers,” Bao said to me. “Later, of course.”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
“I can arrange a performance,” the adept said eagerly. “Or, or… Messire Bao, if you are interested, mayhap we could learn from one another. No one has ever seen a tumbler from Ch’in.” He sketched an apologetic bow. “I do not mean to presume, but it would be a pleasure. By the way, I am Antoine nó Eglantine, the Dowayne’s second. And if there is anything I may offer you to enhance your visit, please do not hesitate to inquire.”
“My thanks,” I said to him.
Antoine bowed again, more extravagantly. “Of course, my lady!”
One of the little attendants returned with two glasses of wine on a silver tray, offering them with a pretty curtsy.
“Terre d’Ange is more pleasant than I remembered it,” Bao remarked, sipping his wine.
“You are more pleasant, my magpie,” I informed him. “It took me weeks to coax a smile from you. All it took Balthasar Shahrizai was one flirtatious comment.”
Bao gave me a serene look. “Jealous?”
“A little,” I admitted.
He laughed.
We sat on a cushioned bench in the foyer, drinking our wine and listening to the lovely songs coming from a nearby salon. It wasn’t long before Lianne Tremaine appeared.
I stood without thinking.
She halted a few paces away, regarding me uncertainly. The last time we had seen each other, a woman had died—poor Claire Fourcay, enamored of Raphael de Mereliot. Focalor, Grand Duke of the Fallen, had inhaled her life’s essence and breathed it into my lungs, forcing me to remain alive to keep the doorway between our world and the spirit world open.
And then he had very nearly taken possession of Raphael, before Bao and Master Lo swept into the chamber, holding the fallen spirit at bay with a whirling staff, fire-powder, and mirrors, allowing me to thrust Focalor back into his world and close the door I had opened.
Lianne Tremaine looked as I remembered her, with light brown hair, topaz eyes, and sharp, intelligent features that put me in mind of a fox. But the uncertainty in her gaze was new.
“I wasn’t sure you’d see me,” she said in a low voice.
“Neither was I.”
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “May we speak in private?”
I nodded. “I think it’s best.”
After being formally introduced to Bao, she escorted us to her chamber, a generous room at the top of one of the turrets. It had windows that looked out over the whole of Mont Nuit, autumn sunlight streaming in to illuminate the space. The walls were lined with shelves and cubbyholes, holding a small fortune in books and scrolls.
“Please, sit,” Lianne said. With a nervous gesture, she indicated a cozy arrangement of four upholstered chairs around a low table. “Shall I send for wine? Tea and pastries?”
I remembered that she had been the first formal visitor I had entertained in Terre d’Ange, when I had been a guest in Raphael’s home. Raphael’s maid had had to prompt me to offer the niceties of hospitality.
It seemed like a long, long time ago.
“Thank you, no,” I said politely.
The former King’s Poet twined her hands together before her. “Lady Moirin… words are my métier. I use them to puncture the inflated sensibilities of pompous souls who hold themselves in high regard. I use them to soothe the tender spirits of offended lovers. I use them to build edifices to raise up and celebrate the achievements of worthy heroes, past and present. I use them to charm, to cajole, to sway. But I confess, I do not know how to use my words to frame the apology you deserve.”
“Maybe you should stop trying so hard to make it sound pretty and just say it,” Bao suggested
A brief flare of irritation came and went in her eyes. “You’re right. I should.” Lianne Tremaine met my gaze. “I did wrong by you, Moirin, and I am sorry for it. Can you forgive me?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said honestly.
She sighed, and took her seat. “I cannot fault you for it. Those of us in the Circle of Shalomon, we knew what we were doing was dangerous. We knew Raphael was putting undue pressure on you to aid us. We saw the terrible toll that the summonings