I closed my eyes and listened.

"You are breathing through your nose."

"Oh." I breathed through my mouth.

"Breathe into your belly, not your chest," he said.

I breathed into my belly, slow and steady. For a time, there was silence. Mayhap it meant I was doing well. I cracked open my eyes and peeked. Master Lo Feng's eyes were closed, his face as serene as a statue's. Bao's eyes were half-lidded, dark, glittering slits watching me. He drew deep, even breaths between parted lips.

"Moirin, do not concern yourself with Bao," Master Lo Feng said without opening his eyes.

"Bao is concerning himself with me," I complained.

"Ignore him."

I tried harder. I closed my eyes again. I thought about the earth beneath me and how deep it went. Deeper than the taproot of Elua's Oak. I listened for its pulse. I drew breath deep into the pit of my belly and breathed it out slowly. I thought about the bright and dark world beyond the stone doorway, and how the tread of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself had made the ground tremble.

A measured tread, slow and stately.

Terrible.

Beautiful.

Like a heartbeat.

When the bell in the tower rang a second time, it seemed faint and distant, summoning me back to myself.

"Oh!" I opened my eyes with an effort, my lids feeling oddly heavy. The shadows cast by plants and shrubs in the garden had moved. A good deal more time than I reckoned had passed.

Master Lo Feng's eyes crinkled. "Well done."

"Was it?"

"Indeed." He struggled to rise. Bao was on his feet in a flash, planting his staff and lending his master a solicitous hand. Master Lo Feng accepted it without a trace of embarrassment. "Old knees," he said ruefully. "Forgive me. Proper breathing will prolong life, but mortal flesh and bone is still mortal."

Bao muttered under his breath in Ch'in.

Master Lo Feng ignored him. "So. You bade me teach you as I saw fit. Will you continue?"

"Is this what you taught Raphael?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"It is not what he wished to learn," he said patiently. "Nor where his gifts lay. Lady Moirin, I ask again: Is it your will to continue?"

I took a deep, experimental breath. My body reverberated with the memory of the Maghuin Dhonn's heavy tread shaking the earth, and the earth's answering pulse. My diadh-anam sang inside me. "It is."

He bowed. "Come tomorrow."

I thought Raphael might laugh when I told him that night at dinner that Master Lo Feng was teaching me to breathe, but he didn't.

"Odd as it sounds, there may be merit in it," he said. "I've found it to be true in other matters. As I said before, the Ch'in believe energy flows through the body in specific patterns, concentrating in various points. Under his tutelage, I've learned to sense and manipulate it." He smiled at me. "Greatly more so with your aid. I'm eager to see if that holds true in other endeavors."

"Your secret project?" I guessed.

Raphael nodded. "Make no mistake, Moirin," he said in a somber tone. "This is a private matter and you're not to discuss it outside the Circle."

"The Circle?"

"A handful of scholars dedicated to pursuing knowledge. We call ourselves the Circle of Shalomon." He hesitated. "It's naught that's illegal or treasonous, I promise, and we will follow every safeguard and take every precaution. But there are those in the realm who would question the wisdom of our pursuit. Once we've succeeded, it will be different."

I frowned, sopping up meat juices with a piece of bread. "May I ask exactly what it is that you're attempting to do?"

Raphael glanced at the chef standing beside the tray with the roast, the manservant hovering beside him. "You may ask, but I've said as much as discretion permits. I'll divulge no details here. Tomorrow. All right?"

"Oh, I don't know." I eyed him. "What will you give me in exchange for my aid and patience, my lord de Mereliot?"

He smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"You fell asleep in a rather inconsiderate fashion last night," I pointed out. I'd kept my word and performed the languisement Jehanne had taught me. It hadn't made him weep, but it had pleased him greatly. And to be fair, I hadn't followed her instructions to the letter. I wasn't entirely sure she hadn't been teasing about putting my finger in his bottom. She had looked altogether too amused at my reaction to the suggestion. Once I could get past being disconcerted by the lingering scent of her perfume, I'd have to spend some time reading the book on Naamah's arts she had sent me.

"Consider it a tribute," Raphael said.

"Consider this a request," I replied.

He laughed and granted it.

It was nice, the nicest it had been between us that night. Raphael was thorough and considerate, taking his time to please me. I loved the feeling of him inside me, moving in and out, the slow waves of pleasure building. I loved the golden warmth of him. I loved the feeling of his shoulder blades beneath my hands, his hips rocking between my thighs. I matched my breathing to his, Master Lo Feng's lessons somewhere in the back of my mind. I wished it could always be this nice and simple.

Afterward, Raphael slept.

I lay awake for a time, my body sated, but my mind still alert. Raphael sleeping looked younger and more vulnerable. I stroked his tawny, silken hair. "What are you up to, Raphael de Mereliot?" I murmured. "What manner of business best left unsaid before your household?"

He sighed in his sleep and said Jehanne's name.

I fought the urge to tweak his hair. "She's always there between us, isn't she?" I said ruefully. "More than you know. But whatever it is you seek in this mysterious pursuit, it seems only I can give it to you."

He sighed again, wordless.

"Oh, fine." I kissed his cheek. "Sleep."

On the morrow, I had another lesson with Master Lo Feng and the ubiquitous Bao and his ubiquitous staff. I thought the Ch'in physician would teach me another style of breathing, but I was wrong. He merely sat on his mat with his legs folded and bade me practice the Breath of the Pulse of the Earth.

I practiced.

It came easier this time. I got bored, but then the boredom passed. I went deeper into the earth and deeper into my own body, feeling the energy pool and gather in the pit of my groin. There, it sat and radiated, waiting to be tapped. It wasn't a sexual feeling, but almost. I liked it.

"Very good," Lo Feng said when we had finished. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that lovely hint of a smile. "Are you sure there is no Ch'in blood in the People of the Brown Bear?" He glanced at Bao. "Or Tatar, perhaps?"

"No," I admitted. "We came to Alba from far away a long, long time ago when the world was covered with ice. Is Bao a Tatar?"

Bao shot me a scathing look, his fingers tightening on his staff.

"His father was," Master Lo Feng said calmly. "It happened during a raid. Through no fault of his own, Bao is a child of violence."

Bao surged to his feet and stomped away, the butt of his staff stabbing at the grass. A moment later, he stomped back and helped his mentor to his feet, averting his face to hide an expression of rough tenderness.

"Do you ever smile?" I asked him.

"Do you ever stop asking stupid questions?" Bao retorted in heavily accented D'Angeline.

"Yes," I said—and said no more.

His lips twitched.

"You nearly did." I pointed at him. "I saw it. You very nearly smiled."

"Children." Lo Feng's voice silenced us. He shook his elegant head, casting his gaze skyward. "Will you spend your energy wastefully in foolish bickering, or will you conduct yourselves as students of the Way in dignity and discipline?"

I inclined my head. "I'm sorry."

Bao muttered.

Master Lo Feng laid a hand on his shoulder and said something soft and gentle and lengthy in Ch'in. I saw Bao's wiry shoulders hunch and tense, then relax. He propped his staff in the crook of his arm and bowed in the Ch'in manner, hands clasped, an expression of aching yearning on his face as he gazed at his mentor. It wasn't meant to be observed, and I looked away.

"Tomorrow?" Lo Feng inquired.

I nodded. "Tomorrow."

We parted, walking in different directions. I glanced over my shoulder as I made for the Academy stables and caught Bao glancing back at me.

He almost smiled.

Almost.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Raphael had arranged for an early dinner that night. After we dined, he called for his carriage and we headed out of the City. When I asked where we were bound, he said it was to a country estate owned by Denis de Toluard's family.

"He comes from a long line of Siovalese peers with a penchant for the scientific arts," he said. "Most were engineers, but his father was fascinated by the occult sciences and studied at the Academy here. He purchased this estate and modified it that he might carry on his studies more extensively."

That told me very little. "I see."

He gave me a quick look. "It's not necessary that you understand what we undertake tonight, Moirin. Only that you lend me your magic."

I folded my arms. "Yes, well, I'd like the chance to try and understand."

"All right." Raphael nodded. "You know that Blessed Elua's Companions were once divine servants of the One God of the Yeshuites? And that they forsook their posts to follow Elua?"

"I do," I said.

"During the time before they passed into the Terre d'Ange-that-lies-beyond, they taught many arts to the folk of Terre d'Ange." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Engineering, architecture, music, healing, pleasure, husbandry, seafaring, warcraft….. all the gifts we enjoy today. But there are other gifts they did not teach us." He lowered his voice. "And other divine entities who have not served the One God for many thousands of years."

"Why?" I asked.

"They rebelled when he set his son Yeshua ben Yosef above them, lost a battle, and fell from grace," Raphael said. "But they still possess much arcane wisdom. And there is an ancient manual that tells how they may be summoned and compelled to divulge their secrets. King Shalomon of the Habiru wrote it."

I glanced out the window. The sun was setting, gilding the landscape. I thought about watching twilight settle over the burial mound in Clunderry, the grave vigil of remembrance my people undertook there at Midsummer. "The Maghuin Dhonn learned it is not always wise to pursue such things."

"Shall all the world remain ignorant because the Maghuin Dhonn made a mistake a hundred years ago?" Raphael asked in a steady voice.

"No. I don't know." I sighed. "What manner of gifts?"

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. "The hidden qualities of herbs and minerals. The ability to speak the tongue of animals. The ability to forge friendship between foes. Does that sound so terrible?"

"No," I admitted.

"One of the greater spirits holds the secret of the commanding the wind and seas," he said in awe. "The very gift the Master of the Straits once wielded!"

"Aye, and hid away for a purpose," I reminded him.

"If he'd meant it to be lost forever, he would have destroyed it," Raphael said. "But mayhap there's another way to find it. Think on it, Moirin!" His eyes shone. "Ever since Gautier and Jean-Philippe de la Courcel vanished seeking the missing pages of the Book of Raziel, Terre d'Ange has been fearful and overcautious. King Daniel ascended the throne at a young age, unready and hesitant. Now he's torn between mourning his first wife and indulging his second. The rest of the world outpaces us, establishing trade with Terra Nova while we indulge in gossip and dalliance. A gift of such magnitude could usher in a new Golden Age."

I frowned, unsure. My diadh-anam pulsed inside me as it always did in Raphael's presence, but it offered no guidance. When I thought about the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, Her gaze was level and measured, neither forbidding nor encouraging.

This choice, I had to make myself.

"That's a dream writ large," Raphael said softly. "If we have any success at all, and we've not to date, I imagine it will come on a smaller scale with the lesser spirits. But do think on it, Moirin." His voice caught. "Such a gift might have spared my parents. It might save others from meeting the same fate."

I reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from his brow, remembering the horror of those deaths at sea. "All right. I did promise."

We reached the de Toluard estate in blue dusk. It looked like a pleasant place—a gracious manor house with tall cypress trees surrounding it like sentinels. I breathed in their sharp, piney fragrance, willing them to lend me their proud strength in whatever was to come.

"Lady Moirin." Denis de Toluard gave me the kiss of greeting in the foyer. He looked far more serious than I remembered. Even his curly brown hair looked subdued. "My thanks for consenting to assist us. Come, I'll introduce you to the others."

There were six of them all told, all of them in their mid- to late-twenties. Later, Raphael told me they had all studied together at the Academy of Occult Philosophy. I greeted the first one with a shock of recognition.

"We've met," Lianne Tremaine said in acknowledgment. "Welcome, my lady."

"What further gifts might the youngest King's Poet in the history of Terre d'Ange possibly seek?" I asked, genuinely curious.