"Do you really think you can live among them?" Mabon asked abruptly.

"I mean to try."

He peered at me, his eyes wide-set and glimmering. "They say the entire city is walled by stone. I can't imagine how one could breathe in such a place. And they'll make mock of you for not knowing their ways. That's what she was trying to say."

"I know," I said softly. "But what else am I to do, Mabon?"

He slung one lean arm around my neck and hugged me. "Don't let them."

"I'll try," I promised.

"Don't forget who you are," he warned me.

I shook my head. "Never."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

On the morrow, we presented ourselves once more at Bryony Associates—or at least I did. Having satisfied themselves yesterday that I was safe enough within, my mother and the others lingered on the doorstep to wait.

"Here is your chit for passage on the Heart of Gold." Caroline no Bryony said in a forthright manner, handing me a scrip. "Departing at dawn two days hence. I can vouch for the captain, Josephe Renniel. I've asked him to keep an eye on you."

I nodded. "My thanks."

"The Heart of Gold is a trade ship, but she's equipped to take on passengers as well. She'll head south down the Straits and put in at Bourdes. Your fare guarantees you three meals a day and a private berth." Caroline hesitated. "The latter if you so desire. I note you're not wholly comfortable indoors."

"Not yet," I agreed.

She cleared her throat. "Captain Renniel has been thus advised. Now, you'll have to book passage from Bourdes overland to the City of Elua. I'm not able to arrange it in advance, but there's a stagecoach for hire departing at least once a week. Captain Renniel can assist you in this."

"Stagecoach," I repeated. "Very good."

Caroline handed me a sheaf of papers. "I've drawn up some notes for you, Moirin." She traced them with one elegant finger. "This is the address of Bryony's banking house in the City of Elua, where you may draw on your letter of credit. And these are the names and addresses of reputable lodging-houses in the City of Elua." She gave me a stern look. "You can't live in the park there. You understand that there's no such thing as taisgaidh land in Terre d'Ange?"

I did now. "I do."

Her forefinger tapped. "This is a letter of introduction you may present at Court if you so desire, confirming that you're a descendant of House Courcel."

I peered at it. "Ah, that's well thought."

"And this . . ." She tapped a different page. "This is the address of the Atelier Favrielle, where a friend of mine is employed." Her mouth curved into a smile. "From their inception onward, they've always enjoyed a unique challenge. I suspect that Benoit might relish that of dressing you."

"Dressing me?" I echoed.

"Child….." Caroline sighed. "Yes, dressing you. Oh, Blessed Elua have mercy, you'll present them with a rare challenge, you will." She steepled her fingers. "May I ask why you're bound for the City of Elua? Have you kin there?"

I shifted in my chair. "My father, mayhap. It seems he was a Priest of Naamah."

"How in the world—" She caught herself. "No mind. By the look of you, I believe it. Do you know where to find him?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. He told my mother that there is a temple in the City dedicated to star-crossed lovers. That they will know where to find him. Do you know it?"

"As it happens, I do." Caroline fetched a fresh sheet of paper and wrote in a steady hand, her head bowed. Light from the ornate lamp overhead made her coiled hair shine and picked out a marking I'd not noticed the other day, a cluster of yellow and green bryony indelibly inked on the nape of her neck, curling tendrils disappearing beneath the collar of her gown.

"Are these warrior's markings?" It seemed unlikely, but I couldn't think what else they might be. Curious, I reached out and stroked her tattooed skin with my fingertips, letting them linger. Her skin was very soft and warm.

Her head jerked up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"Warrior's markings," I repeated. "Like the Cullach Gorrym wear."

"Name of Elua, no." Caroline stared at me, mildly disconcerted. Although I had withdrawn my hand, I could feel the bright lady's gift stirring. "It's Bryony House's marque."

"Ah. Like on the doorway."

"No." She shook her head. "Bryony Associates is owned by Bryony House and guaranteed by the Dowayne's treasury, but I assure you, it's altogether different."

"Oh?" I said in an encouraging tone.

"It's a pleasure-house in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers. I was sworn to Naamah's Service for seven years there."

"You were a priestess?" I asked.

"An adept." Caroline studied me. "Do you know what that means, Moirin?"

"I know Naamah lay down with strangers for coin," I said helpfully. "Is it something to do with that?"

"It is."

"Well, then."

Caroline no Bryony sighed and put her face in her hands and muttered something in unintelligible D'Angeline. I wanted to touch her skin again, and the fine tendrils of hair loose on the nape of her neck. But it made me think of Cillian telling me that it wasn't appropriate to look at people's sisters as though I wondered if they might taste good, and the sorrow thinking of him evoked made the urge go away, leaving only sadness behind. So I waited quietly until she lifted her head.

"Do you even speak a word of D'Angeline?" she asked me.

I nodded. "Un peu, oui. I'm not entirely ignorant, my lady." I smiled sadly. "The Lord of the Dalriada's son taught me."

"The Lord—" Her lips moved soundlessly. "Cillian mac Tiernan. That was you."

It made me uncomfortable to think about such a private grief being a topic of discussion. "What do they say of me?" I asked her.

To her credit, Caroline held my gaze. "That Lord Tiernan's son died ensorceled by a bear-witch's daughter."

"Lord Tiernan's son died on a cattle-raid," I murmured. "To my great and everlasting sorrow. And I am guilty only of not loving him as much as he loved me."

"Is that why you seek to leave?" she asked gently.

"It's one reason I cannot stay." I thought wistfully of the bright-and-dark glade and the compassion and regret in the Maghuin Dhonn's wise, ageless eyes. "But no, my lady. I have passed through the stone doorway and met the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. It seems I have a destiny and I must cross the sea to find it."

Caroline no Bryony gazed at me with parted lips, then gave herself a shake. "I nearly find myself believing it," she said in a wondering tone. "And not nearly so convinced that the City of Elua will eat you alive." She slid the paper with the address of the temple across her desk. "You'll find the temple in the Tsingani quarter. And do heed my advice and seek out Benoit at the Atelier Favrielle. The D'Angeline peerage may be contemptuous of anyone they think rustic or provincial, but they're mad for novelty. The right attire can mean the difference between the two."

"They sound a shallow folk," I observed.

She began to protest, then smiled with self-deprecating charm. "We can be, yes. Shallow and vain and insular. Also, proud, valorous, and great-hearted. I hope you will find somewhat to love in us."

"I already have," I assured her.

She laughed. "Elua have mercy on the City, Moirin of the Maghuin Dhonn."

Two days later, I set sail for Terre d'Ange.

It was the single most terrifying thing I'd ever done in my young life. Up until the moment came, I hadn't truly contemplated the enormity of what I was doing. There was a part of me still numb from Cillian's death, and another part lulled and reassured by the assistance of Caroline no Bryony and her confidence in me. But when I saw the Heart of Gold bobbing at anchor in the harbor and the wide sea stretching beyond it, it struck me with a vengeance.

Alba was my home. I was born and bred here. All that I knew and loved was here, all that was dear and familiar. And I was about to leave it. My mouth went dry, my limbs went cold and tingling, and I found it hard to breathe.

"Moirin?" My mother searched my face. "You're white as a ghost."

My mother. Stone and sea, how could I leave my mother?

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

"You don't have to do this," my mother said fiercely. She turned to Oengus. "She doesn't, does she?"

He bowed his head. "I cannot say."

I thought about staying, leaving this city of stone and its bustling harbor, fleeing to the comfort and solitude of the forest. My heart leapt at the thought; but deep inside me, the spark of my diadh-anam guttered. I saw once more the Maghuin Dhonn turn from me with sorrow and regret, the slow, rolling surge of Her gait and the earth trembling beneath Her mighty paws as She walked away, this time forever.

And that loss ached even more than the one I faced.

"I have to go." I forced the words out. "I wish I didn't, but I do. I'm sorry. Please, if you love me, don't speak against this."

"I'll fetch the captain, shall I?" Mabon murmured. I was so grateful to him for understanding, all I could do was nod.

Captain Josephe Renniel was a tall, lean man with pale red-gold hair tied in a braid and wrinkles fanning from the corners of his blue-grey eyes. He managed to survey the four of us with considerable equanimity.

"Lady Moirin, I take it?" He spoke in slow, deliberate D'Angeline and bowed, then offered me his arm. "Will you come aboard?"

I took a deep breath, willing my racing heart to slow. "May I say good-bye to them?"

He nodded gravely. "Of course, my lady."

I hugged Oengus and Mabon. For as little as I'd seen of them throughout my life, it didn't matter. They were my folk, they were kin.

My mother.

Her tears were damp on my skin where her cheek pressed hard against mine. I closed my eyes for a long time. When I opened them and gazed over her shoulder, I saw sympathy in the captain's gaze. My mother squeezed my arms.

"Tell that man that if harm comes to you in his care, I will call down the curse of stone and sea and sky upon him," she said in a low, savage voice. "Until the very earth disdains his touch and every man's hand is against him!"

"Fainche," Oengus murmured.

She gave me a shake, eyes glittering. "Tell him!"

I turned to the captain and inclined my head. "My mother offers her prayers for a safe journey and smooth passage," I said in faltering D'Angeline.

Captain Renniel no longer looked sympathetic. He looked pale. He had understood her tone, if not her words. "I am always grateful for a mother's prayers."

"He promises I will be safe," I said to my mother.

Mollified, she wiped her eyes. "Only come home to me one day, will you, my heart?"

"I will." I paused. "Ah….. where might that be?"

It made her smile through her tears. "You know, I'm not sure myself. Our cave will be very empty without you. But wherever I'm bound, I'll leave word at Clunderry. They've respect for their wild kin there."

"I'll find you," I promised.

And then there was nothing more to be said. The eastern sky was pink and growing brighter. Captain Renniel offered to have my trunks brought aboard and looked askance at me when I told him I didn't have any, only my bulging satchel and the bow and quiver over my shoulder. Still, he gave me his arm and escorted me up the ramp and onto the ship. D'Angeline sailors watched us with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The wooden deck moved subtly beneath my feet.

I was no longer on Alban soil.

I swallowed against the surge of terror that thought instilled in me. The captain offered to show me to my berth, but I shook my head. I wanted to keep my mother in sight until the last possible moment. She and Oengus and Mabon looked so wild, lost, and out of place standing there on the quay.

And so he showed me to a place in the rear of the ship where I might stand out of the way, then went about his business. Orders were given. A great rotating device was cranked, raising a mighty chain and a dripping anchor. Sailors scurried around, ignoring me for the moment. Sails were hoisted. The Heart of Gold turned its prow toward the open sea. The shore fell away behind us.

My mother raised her hand in farewell.

I raised mine.

The sails filled and grew taut with snapping, rippling sounds. The ship picked up speed, the rolling motion of it growing more pronounced as we made for the open entrance to the harbor. The sun cleared the horizon, sparkling on the waves. Overhead, gulls wheeled with raucous cries. When I could no longer pick out my mother's figure on the shore, I lowered my arm.

I was off to seek my destiny.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The first night, I thought I might die of loneliness. Captain Renniel invited me to dine in his quarters, but I was too heart-sick and the constant motion of the waves made my stomach feel queasy. And too, it wasn't his presence I yearned for.

I wanted my mother.

And somehow, I felt it would be worse and more lonely to be alone with a stranger than alone all by myself. So I turned down his invitation. I tried to make myself sleep in the narrow berth I'd been given, but it was impossible. Although the walls were wood and not stone, it was tiny and windowless and cramped, and I felt so stifled my skin crawled. For a mercy, the captain had heeded Caroline no Bryony's warning and told me where I could sleep on the deck if I wasn't comfortable indoors.