The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(15)
“No, Father,” she replied humbly. “I am grateful to be home. Where is Mother? I thought I would find her here with you?”
She had struck a nerve and a blow at the same time, not realizing it until it was too late. Her father flinched noticeably. “Ah yes, well . . . there is all that.” He began to pace away from her, gathering his thoughts, sorting through his words as if trying to determine the best ones to use. “Your mother is no longer here.”
Maia felt a jab of pain in her ribs. “I see.” She swallowed.
He let out a pent-up breath. “It would be best to get this said and done.” He turned and looked at her sternly again, his eyes narrowing coldly. “I have banished your mother.”
Maia flinched, but said nothing. Her cheeks were flaming.
“Where is she?” she asked in a kitten of a voice. She had to repeat herself even to be heard.
“Muirwood, I think,” her father said dismissively. “It is in an out-of-the-way Hundred full of bogs and swamps. I have heard nothing but trouble about the ruins and the slow process of rebuilding. That abbey will never be done, I fear. But that is neither here nor there, Maia. Your mother is banished. I am seeking to have our marriage annulled.” He looked at her pointedly. “For that to happen, Maia, I must banish you as well.”
Her heart rumbled inside her chest. She stared at her father as if he were a stranger. “Why?” she asked, her voice threatening to betray her. “Have I not pleased you, Father?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “No! It is nothing like that, Maia. No, no, that could not be further from the truth. I care for you, and I always shall. You are precious to me. But you cannot be my heir. I will not allow my kingdom to become a principality to another. There are many wolves prowling for you, Maia. Many would-be suitors who would love to claim your hand and my throne. No! I will not allow it. We are chief among the kingdoms. We have the most ancient noble blood, the strongest Families. But I am not growing any younger, Maia, and your mother could not carry another child to term, no matter how many vigils I kept. Something about your birthing . . . damaged her. I cannot allow a daughter to claim my throne. The Naestors would invade and overrun us if they knew a woman was to inherit.” His tone was turning uglier by the moment. His face twisted with rage. “I cannot show them a hint of weakness. Even Chancellor Walraven agrees that a woman cannot inherit Comoros without drawing all of our enemies to our shores. I must have a son. A warrior who can defend us when I am too old.”
In her mind, Maia thought of the timid little boy hiding in his mother’s skirts.
Maia’s tongue finally loosened, the strain of the situation too much to bear in silence. She stared at him in shock and disappointment. “How can you do this, Father?” she said with outrage. “You are a maston! You married Mother by irrevocare sigil. It cannot be broken! You cannot just banish her. She is a noblewoman in her own right, by her own rank. She is of the ruling Family!”
His face twisted with unsuppressed rage, and he strode up to her quickly. “Do not speak to me thus!” he spit at her. “You are my child and you owe me your allegiance and your obedience. You need not fling my oaths in my face. I know what I am doing. It is the only way to preserve our kingdom. You are a child. You cannot understand the ways of men and women.”
“I may be young, but this is wrong, Father! Surely you realize that. What offense have we committed to earn such a punishment? Is it just? A wife may be put away for adultery, but surely it is you who have—”
The look of rage on his face brought blind terror into her mind. He struck her across the mouth, a stinging slap that silenced her words and rocked her backward. “You will be silent!” he threatened her, his voice wavering with emotion. “You watch your tongue and guard your speech. I will not listen to such talk from my own flesh and blood. Be still!” He loomed over her, and Maia felt the stinging pain on her cheek and the flavor of blood in her mouth. Her knees trembled so hard she was afraid she would crumple onto the floor, but she held firm. She stared up at her father with loathing, her eyes dry.
His eyes were on fire with fury. One of his fingers jabbed at her nose. “Let me be very clear, Daughter. You are henceforth banished from my household. You are no longer my natural child. I have forsaken my maston oaths and no longer wear the chaen. I say it clearly so that there can be no misunderstanding between us. I do not believe in the benevolence of the Medium. It is real, I know that. But it is cruel and vicious too.” He spread his arms wide, as if daring her to contradict him. “But you will say nothing of this to anyone else. For the preservation of this kingdom, for the sake of the people, I will pretend as though I am faithful to the order. I will not persecute mastons or halt the rebuilding of the abbeys. I will fulfill my duty to complete them and reinstate the full rites. But I cannot remain bound to your mother, whom I hate with every bit of loathing and rancor you can possibly imagine. I cannot bear to even look at her, which is why I have sent her far away.”
Maia’s eyes widened with defiance. “Very well, then send me to my mother,” she demanded. “If I am to be banished, I would go to her. To Muirwood.”
Her father shook his head. “Oh no, I dare not let you go. Even if your eyes continue to accuse me. You are far too valuable a prize for my enemies. Those who pursue your mother’s interests will be disinherited, and their lands will be forfeited. But anyone seeking to abduct and control you will be guilty of treason. You will stay here in Comoros.” His look was grave and stony. “You are banished here, Maia. To Pent Tower.”