Naamah's Curse

FIFTEEN

The archery contest was set to take place three days later, and I was to be allowed to compete in it.

All in all, spirits were running high in the campsite. There were exceptions, of course. The Great Khan’s daughter was miserable; the Great Khan himself was disgruntled. His loyal general Arslan was unhappy. I was torn between guilt and hope; and I knew Bao felt much the same.

Everyone else was excited.

It was almost all Tatars, now. Whatever negotiations took place among the northern Bhodistani and the Vralians had been concluded. Most of them had departed, only a few lingering out of a mild curiosity, I supposed. No one but the Tatars truly cared about the contests.

And they cared very much. They were eager to see me humiliated, or at least most of them were.

When I thought about it, I felt sick and scared inside. I was no warrior, raised to take pride in my prowess with a bow. I was just… me. I had only learned to shoot to help provide for my mother and myself. It was a way of life, nothing more.

“That is the best reason of all, Moirin,” Batu said firmly to me. “Survival. Do not worry. Whatever happens, you will not embarrass yourself.”

“No?”

“No.” His kind eyes crinkled. “I am aware of the games that were played in the deep of winter. It has always galled the young men of my tribe that they cannot defeat you in this sport. Do you think that we are so unskilled that we cannot hold our own with the best of the Great Khan’s men?”

“No.” I smiled at him. “Batu, with your kindness and generosity, I am quite sure you are the best of the Great Khan’s men.”

He blushed and averted his head, which I found utterly charming. I would have kissed his cheek, except I knew it would scandalize him. “I have asked everyone to cull their arrows to choose those with the straightest shafts and the finest fletching. We will do our best to make sure you have arrows that fly true.”

I was touched. “I will try not to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, Moirin,” Batu said in a gentle voice. “I wish you well.”

I spent many hours practicing away from the campsite, honing my skill. Alone, I was better able to concentrate, and I found that the discipline that Master Lo had taught me served me well.

On the day before the archery contest, Bao rode out to meet me. Although it was hard to be apart, we had continued to be circumspect. There had been little contact between us since it had been decreed that I would be allowed to compete. My heart and my diadh-anam leapt inside me at his approach, and I knew he felt the same.

We found ourselves smiling foolishly at each other, both of us self-consciously aware of it, yet unable to help ourselves.

“So,” I said.

“So,” Bao echoed, dismounting. “It is almost upon us. I will be glad when this is over, Moirin.”

My anxiety returned ten-fold. “So will I, but, Bao, please don’t count on me to win! Truly, I think the odds are very much against it.”

“They are,” he observed. “Almost no one is wagering on you. And yes, I know it is unlikely. It is only that it is our best chance of seeing the matter resolved peaceably.”

I was relieved that he wasn’t putting unreasonable expectations on me. “What happens if I do lose? Other than the gloating.”

“I don’t know,” Bao admitted. “Erdene tells me that her father has promised to hunt me down like a dog and slit my throat if I leave without his permission.”

That didn’t do much to alleviate my anxiety. “I see.”

“At least she is speaking to me, which is an improvement. Whatever you said to her, it helped.” He gave me a curious glance. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her I understood how she felt,” I murmured. “I told her I had once loved a man who could not give his heart to me.”

Bao’s eyes widened with indignation. “You compared me to that stupid ass Lord Lion Mane?”

“Aye, I did.” I raised my brows at him. “I know you didn’t intend to hurt Erdene. Nonetheless, you did.”

“I know, I know!” He sighed. “And I am sorry for it.”

“I know.” I steered the conversation back to more pressing matters. “Bao, I’m serious. If I lose, what will we do?”

He smiled ruefully. “If the Great Khan’s threat is sincere, I think there is only one way we can evade his pursuit. We can’t outrace a Tatar hunting party. Have you seen them ride?”

“Aye.” I nodded. “You mean for me to call the twilight.”

“Yes.” Bao’s smile faded. “And I know you are concerned about your ability to shield both of us within it long enough. I am, too. I remember how difficult it was for you with the princess when we climbed toward White Jade Mountain. Believe me, I do not like to ask. It is a piece of irony, Moirin. Before… before I died, when I had decided I would offer to leave Master Lo’s service, it was because I meant to protect you.”

“Only that?” I asked.

“No, of course not.” His eyes softened. “Also because of your noble instincts and generous heart, and yes, your beauty, and the way you revel in pleasure, and many other things large and small. But you’re impulsive, too, and all these things combined make you a danger to yourself.”

“I’m not impulsive,” I muttered. “I have an inconvenient destiny, that’s all.”

“And you are impulsive,” Bao repeated, ignoring my disclaimer. “Anyway… it is a piece of irony that I can do nothing to protect you here, but must rely on your skills and gifts to save us both from a dangerous situation I created.” He looked unhappy. “I am not making a very good start as a heroic protector like the ones in your tales.”

“Close your eyes,” I said to him.

“Why?”

I blew out my breath. “Just do it!”

He obeyed, and I summoned the twilight, folding it around us both. Bao opened his eyes to a world gone silvery, dim, and lovely.

I touched his face. “I do not recall asking for a protector, my stubborn magpie. And before you take the entire blame for our troubles, I will remind you that I created the problem by coming after you.”

Bao smiled. “Impulsively, yes.”

“Oh, fine.” I slid my hand around to the back of his neck, tugging his head down so I could kiss him.

Naamah’s gift sang within me as he kissed me back, one arm around my waist. His other hand pressed against my back, claiming me firmly.

We made love on the twilit steppe, and it was gentle and magical.

Never before had I been able to surrender to pleasure without losing my grasp on the twilight. It was different with Bao. He carried the missing half of my divided soul within him, and I could hold us both in the twilight as easily as I could myself-as easily and naturally as breathing.

“Moirin.” He whispered my name against my throat, his hand parting my thighs. “It is so beautiful here.”

“Yes,” I whispered in reply, my back arching as his fingers teased my slick cleft.

Bao lifted his head, his gaze intent on mine. “Is it like this beyond the stone doorway?”

Ripples of pleasure ran through me. “Even more so.” I gazed back at him, seeing the flickering penumbra of his aura. “It is everything bright and dark all at once, everything in the world.”

“Everything?” He moved over me.

I spread my thighs wider to welcome him, feeling the bonfire of the spirit as our diadh-anams joined in full. “Everything.”

All through our lovemaking and beyond, I held on to the twilight, not losing it even in the throes of climax-not mine nor his. In the aftermath of love, I lay with my head on Bao’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and watching the silvery grasses move slowly in the breeze. Everything seemed to move more slowly in the twilight.

Time passed differently in the spirit world, I remembered. When I had gone through the stone doorway, days had passed without my knowledge.

Bao’s warm breath stirred my hair, and his arms were warm around me, strong with corded muscle.

It felt good.

I didn’t want it to end.

“Moirin,” he said at last, his voice reluctant. “We should go.”

“I know.” I forced myself to sit upright. After we donned our clothing, I took one last, deep breath of the twilight, and then let it out, releasing the magic.

The world returned in a rush. It was late-later than I had reckoned. The setting sun hovered over the horizon like a great orange orb, staining the grasslands with ruddy light, throwing our long, stark shadows before us.

For the first time in days, I felt calm.

“I can do this,” I said to Bao. “If I fail on the morrow, we can escape into the twilight. I can hold it long enough.”

He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “Yes, you can.”