The Ciphers of Muirwood (18 page)

She wiped her nose on her knuckle quickly. “I am glad you are here,” she said, trying to calm herself. “I have longed to speak with you.”

“Oh, I have been
longing
for this as well,” he said bitterly, his eyes flashing. “The ransom is paid, my dear. My kingdom is bankrupt. I am in debt, and I know not even the interest to be paid.” He dropped his voice lower. “If I topple your father and claim all his taxes, it may not be enough to relieve the burden. It will probably take years, but I will repay every last farthing, pent, and mark. I will owe no man anything.” His voice was almost a growl. Then he huffed and turned away from her.

Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm. He flinched and jerked away from her.

“I am sorry,” Maia said, struggling to speak through the tears stinging her eyes.

He held up his hand. “Please, spare me the humiliation of enduring your apology,” he said. When he turned toward her again, his eyes were raw with fury, his mouth tight with emotion. His voice fell even lower. “I
knew
what you were. There is no apology needed. It was your right to betray me. Maybe even your duty. I allowed that possibility when I forced you to marry me. I knew what . . .” His voice became strangled, his eyes sparking with unsuppressed fury. “
Goch
, I cannot even say the word any longer!” he snarled venomously. “Whatever spell you put on me is still working. I cannot name it, but we both
know
what you are.” His hand shot out and gripped her left shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin. He did it deliberately, his eyes locked on hers.

His touch on her brand caused a queasiness to rupture inside her stomach. For a moment, she felt a veil of blackness darken her mind. She heard a hiss of pain, of terror, of compulsion—from herself?—and then the dark feelings skittered away. Maia blinked, feeling dizzy, but she did not totter or fall.

She deliberately looked into his eyes as she pushed his arm away. “Please do not touch me there,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

Collier looked at her in surprise, his eyes widening. He had obviously expected a different reaction.

Maia licked her lips, trying to find enough moisture to speak. “Do you still wear the kystrel?” She could not see the sign of a chain around his throat.

He shook his head no, then tugged at the front of his shirt, revealing the whorl of the tattoo on his skin. “The Victus took it away, saying you wanted to give it to another man. I have not worn it for many months, but the taint, as you can see, is permanent. Who has your kystrel now? The axe boy?” he asked with a hint of jealousy.

“I do not know,” Maia said, shaking her head. “I am here to become a maston, Collier. I never . . . I never
wanted
to be anything else.”

He chuckled softly. “And here I thought you came to burn this abbey too.”

The stab drew blood and Maia flinched.

He cocked his head, hearing the sound of people approaching the gardens. He gave her another scathing look, then jumped onto the edge of the flower bed, sprang onto the wall, and nimbly climbed it. After reaching the top, Collier gave her one parting glance—a look full of retribution—and then slipped over the edge and disappeared.

Maia’s heart was breaking. The pain made her nearly crumple to the ground, but she stayed firm, willing herself not to cry. She heard the Aldermaston’s voice as the door to the gardens opened again, punctuated by Dodd’s invective.

Maia turned to the plot of flowers, seeing the white lily amidst the blue. She carefully cupped it in her hand and then slipped it into the pouch at her waist.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Confessions

W
ho was that man?” Suzenne asked softly, standing behind Maia and combing her hair gently. “A collier is a stablehand, is it not? A horseman? Is he with the king’s retinue?”

Maia heart had churned all throughout supper, and she had eaten no more than a bite, her stomach too twisted to permit food. She had known she would not be able to escape talking about it forever. The teeth of the comb dragging through her tresses and the warmth of the fire from the Leering were both sensations that normally soothed her, but tonight they could not.

“Yes,” Maia whispered. “He did ride in with Captain Carew.”

“He was very angry,” Suzenne said.

“He deserves to be.”

Suzenne stopped combing and stared down at Maia’s neck. She waited.

Maia swallowed. In a very soft voice she said, “That was my husband.”

Suzenne gasped and threw down the comb, coming around to kneel in front of Maia. Her eyes wide with astonishment, she grabbed Maia’s wrist and squeezed it. “You are . . . you are married? Why did you not tell me before? Oh, Maia, I almost would not believe you but for the look on your face. Who is he?”

Maia pulled her arm away and quickly untied the pouch at her waist. She withdrew the white lily delicately, staring at it in her palm.

“The flower from the garden?”

“Yes,” Maia said. “It is a white lily. The royal flower of Dahomey.”

Suzenne looked at her in confusion.

Maia sighed. “Feint Collier is a disguise he wears. Collier is my nickname for him. He is the King of Dahomey. When I told you my story, I left out an important part.” She twisted the flower slowly, staring at the glow of the firelight on the petals.

“You married
him
?” Suzenne asked in wonderment. “You are saying, Maia, that you are the Queen of Dahomey?”

“You make it sound so grand,” Maia said, chuckling quietly. “We were not married by irrevocare sigil, Suzenne. We were joined by a Dochte Mandar. He can divorce me if he chooses. He may do that.” She was so conflicted. Her parents had been wed by irrevocare sigil, yet their marriage had proved a disaster. No glaring clues had told Maia’s mother what her husband would one day become, and the thought of unwittingly binding herself to someone like him for all eternity made Maia cringe inside. Still, marrying a maston by irrevocare sigil was a long-held dream for her. “What a mess this is,” she continued, pressing a hand to her throbbing temple. “I am not saying the words very well. Here, let me try this instead.” She rose and set the lily down on the table. Then she went to the small chest that contained her few possessions. She pulled out a thick folded set of papers. “I have not sealed it yet, for I did not know when I would have the chance to send it to him. All I knew was that he had recently been released from his confinement. I did not suspect for a moment that I would see him today.”

Maia stroked her palm against the smooth paper as she carried it over to Suzenne. “It does a better job of explaining the situation. Right now, my thoughts are fluttering like butterflies and I can barely contain them. I cannot stop thinking of the fact that he is here, somewhere on the grounds. And he hates me, Suzenne. I betrayed him. But not in the way that he thinks. I wrote this letter for him, hoping to find a way to get it to him in secret. I have been hoping this for many months.” She wiped a tear from her eye before it could fall. “The Medium truly does heed our innermost thoughts. I did not believe it would deliver him to me in such a fashion. I can scarcely believe it now.”

Suzenne gave her a look of awe and concern as Maia handed her the letter. She seated herself on the chair by the lily to read it.

Maia knew the words almost by heart.

My lord husband,

I know that by writing this, I risk my death. I was taught to read and write when I was very young by Chancellor Walraven, who tutored me in the customs of the mastons and the Dochte Mandar. He believed my parents were not able to conceive and deliver more children, so he felt it my duty as the future ruler of Comoros to understand the arts that are strictly forbidden of my gender. He gave me a kystrel when I was fourteen to protect me from the influence of the Myriad Ones when my father banished the Dochte Mandar from Comoros. I did not realize that in doing so, he put me in their power.

Revealing this, I put my life in your hands.

I have long regretted not expressing my true feelings to you relating to the circumstances of our first meeting and our subsequent marriage. In all honesty, I did not believe I could trust you. You are a vain and ambitious man. What you saw in me was not love, but an opportunity to expand your influence, wealth, and power. You are more than what your reputation holds, however. As I have grown to know you, I have come to understand you better. We were both very small when our parents agreed to our betrothal. It was my father who spurned that treaty. He has a difficult time keeping his oaths, I have learned.

Here is what I must confess. My father sent me to the cursed shores of Dahomey to find a cure for the evil of the Myriad Ones infecting my kingdom. When I discovered the lost abbey, I was attacked by my father’s soldiers because they learned I wore a kystrel and they feared me. They were right to fear me, but I did not become what I am deliberately or even knowingly. When we spoke in your tent the night we were married, I still did not know the truth about myself. You were wiser than I and perceived what I could not. When I made my marriage vow to you, I was not acting under my own volition or my own conscience. I have only ever desired to marry a maston, to become one myself, and to strengthen my Family’s bond to the Medium by irrevocare sigil.

When we reached Naess, I was not myself. I am frightened of the creature that ruled me . . . the one who is still bound to me. More than anything, I seek to banish it from my body forever. In the palace of the Naestors, I was offered a chance to become everything you desired me to become and to name you as a ruler at my side. But doing so would have meant surrendering who I am. I would have violated every principle, every spark of good, and every tender feeling I rightly possess. In giving you what you desired, I would have betrayed you more fully than I did . . . and in ways too evil to mention. I was rescued by my grandmother, who I learned is the High Seer, and have come to Muirwood Abbey to fulfill my destiny.

By making that choice, which I did freely and of my own will, I knew that I condemned you to be a prisoner. This was painful to me, Collier, for I know your history. If there was a way I could have rescued you from Naess, please believe me that I would have. I am grieved at what you have had to suffer because of me, and I have thought of it constantly these past months.

Now that I have spoken the truth to you, insofar as I know it, it may change your feelings about our marriage. Despite all that has happened between us, I do not see the future as being entirely without hope. You and I were plight trothed when we were infants. Perhaps, in time, you can forgive the unintentional deceptions involved in our relationship. I truly seek to make amends any way that I can.

Please forgive me, Maia

Suzenne looked up from the letter and gently handed it back to her. Then with a quiver in her jaw, she stood and pulled Maia into a firm embrace. The two held each other, weeping softly, and Maia felt the healing balm that comes from having shared a confidence with a friend. Suzenne pulled away first, wiping her cheeks, and shook her head.

“I did not consider,” she said, choking, “how painful it must have been for you when Dodd and I . . .”

Maia shook her head. “I am grateful the two of you are happy. He is a maston, and you will soon become one. I am not too envious.”

Suzenne wiped her nose. “But how can you have a husband? Did you not . . . consummate the marriage on your wedding night?”

Maia shook her head. “No, we did not. It was a political union, and he knew I was on a mission elsewhere. Collier swore I would not leave him until I had agreed to the marriage and said my oaths. But I think as we spent time together, got to know each other, he started to have feelings for me . . . just as I did for him. At times it seemed he did not believe the legends.”

“Yes, but believing something is not true does not make it untrue,” Suzenne said, wrinkling her brow. “Many leave the abbeys because they do not
want
to believe the Medium is real, despite all the evidence.”

“Evidence indeed,” Maia said, shaking her head. “Somehow the Medium brought him here.”

“I know! It is more than a coincidence.”

“What shall I do?” Maia said, wringing her hands. “I need to talk to him, to tell him the truths that are in that letter. But he is so angry, Suzenne. He is so hurt.”

“I could see it,” she agreed. “I did not know the situation at all,
but that much was clear to me. Was he hurtful to you in the garden?”

Maia nodded, not wanting to repeat some of the accusations he had made.

Suzenne started pacing, tapping her lip with her finger as she walked. “Do you think he is staying at the Pilgrim with Captain Carew?”

“Yes, but it is outside the abbey. If I went there, they would seize me at once.”

“But the tunnels go beneath the walls of the abbey,” Suzenne said. “There is one that goes to the Pilgrim. I know it does!”

Maia’s eyes widened. “I had not thought of that.”

“Let me call for Owen to fetch Jon Tayt. He can deliver your letter.”

Maia’s heart began to skip. “Collier and Jon Tayt know each other.”

“I will send for him right away.”

Jon Tayt leaned against the wall and walked his thumbs into his wide belt. Argus sat on his haunches next to him, his tail wagging rhythmically. Maia and Suzenne watched the hunter closely, waiting for him to speak. The firelight from their Leering glinted off his coppery hair.

He sighed dramatically. “If it must be done, it must be done. But by Cheshu, Lady Maia, I am not suited for such wooing.”

Maia suppressed a smile. “Do you think my intention is wrong?”

“I do, indeed.”

“Then what would you advise?” Maia asked.

“Burn the letter. Right now. Once it leaves your hands, it is irretrievable. It is enough evidence for him to have you butchered by those pigs, the Naestors. Collier may resent it. He likely will. You used too many words. He is a man. He understands two things. One—whether he is hungry. And two—whether he can best another man with a weapon. All this talk is romantic nonsense. He is no love-smitten fool.”

Maia’s shoulders slumped.

“Your advice is appreciated,” Suzenne said, but she cocked her head. “May I ask, Jon Tayt, how many times you have been married or been in love?”

“Nary a one,” he said proudly, beaming.

“Then perhaps another voice should prevail. Yes, it was a political match that can be ended with a scribe’s quill and ink. But it is still a legal marriage, for it was performed in front of witnesses, as Maia said, and sworn before a Dochte Mandar. It will not be easy for him to cast aside such a binding union. Maia is still the Queen of Dahomey.”

Jon Tayt shook his head. “No, she is not.”

Suzenne looked confused.

“Must I remind you of such things? When does a prince become a king? When he has been anointed such by one in authority. By the Aldermastons. Maia is his wife, but she is not his queen, not until a coronation is done in the presence of mastons, knights, and the populace.” He raised his hands. “It is not too late for him to end the marriage.”

“But Maia is the king’s daughter! He will still want the union.” Suzenne’s cheeks were flushed.

“He appears to be making other arrangements,” Jon Tayt quipped. “Lady Deorwynn’s daughter. He needs money, and she has it. Maia has nothing but her pretty looks and her wits. I do not mean to insult you, lass, but that is the truth. You know he has no intention of becoming a maston, which is what you want from a husband. Perhaps the wise course would be to see what he does. From what you told me, he escaped in a hurry. He has no desire to be arrested under the Aldermaston’s authority. Wait for him to speak to you again. If he tries, I promise I will not let Argus bite him, though I am tempted.”