The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(26)

“The stables are in the rear,” Collier said, directing them around the tall parapet to some stone sheds where they could hear the nickering of horses. So far, he had been true to his word. “This way.”

They reached the tall wooden doors, and Maia prepared herself to be betrayed. Why would this man have helped them escape the Dochte Mandar? What motive could he possibly have to betray his king or his king’s interests? She glanced at the kishion and saw the blatant distrust she felt, mirrored in his eyes. She would use the kystrel if she must.

Collier reached for the massive door handles and pulled one of the stable doors open. Inside stood four saddled horses with bulging sacks fastened to their harnesses—provisions for their trip. Without pausing to look back at Maia and the kishion, he strode inside, kicking up dust and straw as he approached the first, a beautiful cream-colored stallion, and greeted the animal warmly by running his hand over its hide. Then he went to the other three, whispering to them in coaxing tones and patting their flanks. His talent with the beasts was unmistakable.

“The brooding mare the color of soot is named Revenge. He is yours, my brooding friend,” he said, turning toward the kishion. “This brown is yours, my lady. Her name is Preslee. She is fast, so do not give her head unless the need is dire.” He stroked her long nose and then clapped her flanks warmly. “She can run. That may be useful to you.” He moved on to a shorter horse, a pony. “Chacewater is for Tayt when he arrives. He is small but sturdy, as are Tayt’s legs. Anything larger and he would need a bucket to stand on to even mount her. He may not be able to keep up like the other two, but he is tough. These mounts should suit you all.”

Collier went over to his cream stallion and swung up into the saddle in a fluid, practiced motion. The sword dangled from his hip. “I will ride back through town as if going to Argus, since that was my original destination. The road behind the stables will bring you east, away from Corriveaux and the Dochte Mandar, to the town of Briec. If you would, leave the horses there with the innkeeper. The man’s name is Clem Pryke. It is the largest inn, so it will not be difficult to find. I will come back in two days to pick them up and bring them back here, no one the wiser.”

He leaned down in his saddle, looking at Maia with an expression she could not interpret. “So I must leave you.”

“How can I repay you for your help?” Maia said, still struggling with the relief she felt finding all had been arranged as he had said. The stable was clean and orderly, with tack and harnesses hanging from pegs on the walls. Barrels of provisions were stored beneath them. It was well kept.

“Will you give me your name?” he asked.

She stared up at him, at this handsome, mysterious man. He was a wretched, yet he had overcome the disadvantages of that class. She longed to know how. Her banishment had made her feel as she imagined a wretched would. Except she knew her Family. She had believed for many years that no one would ever want a princess who had been banished. Her father had made it very clear she would never marry.

She shook her head no, not daring to trust him further, or even to trust herself.

“Someday, my lady,” he said, his piercing blue eyes drawing her in. He smiled broadly. “Someday you will trust me.”





CHAPTER NINE




Whitsunday

Maia, the fire is burning low. Attend to it.” Lady Deorwynn’s voice caught Maia midstride as she was heading to the cupboard for porcelain cups. She quickly finished that duty and then went over to the hearth to tend to the dying fire.

As Maia knelt on the flagstones, the pain in her stomach grew. It was almost unbearable, and it took all her will not to moan. She closed her eyes, feeling beads of sweat on her brow, and clutched her abdomen. She tried to breathe through the pain, hoping the air would not whistle from her mouth and draw unwelcome attention.

“Please, Maia, you are so lazy. I told you to tend the fire, yet you do nothing but sit there and stare at it. Is it stubbornness, I wonder? You think I will fetch a servant instead? Really, child. So lazy.”

Maia clenched her teeth and reached for a poker hanging from a nearby peg. She stabbed the chalk-gray coals, mixing them around before stirring up the winking embers. Half hidden in the soot, the Leering glowered at her from the stone wall deep inside the hearth. It was a small one with a wicked grin full of torture; it seemed to be smiling because it enjoyed her pain. It was a hideous Leering.

She stared into its eyes as she set a log from the pile beside the fire into the nest of coals. Bending close, she started to blow on the embers, creating puffs of ash. The sounds of sizzles and crackles popped in her ears and the log started to smoke. As she worked, her loathing of Lady Deorwynn seethed inside of her, a force so strong she dared label it hatred. The woman had usurped her mother’s place in her father’s heart . . . leaving no room for any others. While her daughters were pampered and spoiled as princesses of the realm, Maia’s position continued to worsen.

The Leering’s eyes started to glow.

Maia stared at the eyes in amazement. Twin pinpricks of red-hot heat stared at her from the soot. The Leering was responding to her emotions. Though Maia had learned long ago to act calm when she was feeling anything but, she knew that the Leering had somehow sensed her buried feelings, that it had awoken because of them.

She stared at the half smile, half grimace on the Leering’s mouth and leaned back from the hearth.