The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(39)

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “I . . . I cannot explain it. I feel that we need to go that way. Urgently.”

Jon Tayt scratched his neck and winced. “That does not sound right, my lady.”

“I know it does not. It goes against common sense. We were walking and I—” She sighed. “The north road.”

Jon Tayt looked at the kishion and then back at her. “It is the last place they would look or suspect we would go.”

The kishion frowned. “You have not directed us like this since the Leerings. It is the Medium?”

Maia nodded.

Jon Tayt threw up his hands. “It goes against all wisdom and common sense. Why not? What do you say, Argus?”

The boarhound barked once.

Maia knelt in front of him and stroked his fur.

“We will be surrounded by the king’s army in moments,” Jon Tayt said. “I want to state that now in case you decide after we are captured that it was a bad idea.”

She straightened and looked him in the eye. “Trusting these feelings, as rarely as they come, has kept us alive so far. I do not know what lies ahead. But I trust it.”




They had not traveled far down the north road before they were surrounded by riders.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN




Treason

The sunlight came slanting through the windows of the chancellor’s tower and glimmered off the polished aurichalcum of the tome on Maia’s lap. She loved tomes—loved the meticulous engravings so gently and delicately inscribed. Not only was a tome a thing of polished beauty, but it revealed the beauty of the writer’s mind. Each tome was filled with the wisdom of the ages, scrawled by hand and etched into the metal pages to be preserved for centuries. You could learn about a man from his thoughts, from what he found important. Some learners chose to fill their tomes with extensive translations of one man’s thoughts . . . an Aldermaston’s, perhaps, or one of the founders of the Dochte Mandar. The tome in her hand was a mixture of both, for Chancellor Walraven always strived to stretch the boundaries of what he knew.

She looked up from the sheaf of aurichalcum, pressing her warm hand against its cool metal. She was sick with worry, her insides clenching and twisting with the dread of anticipated news. Her entire future hinged on the outcome of the trial, as did that of her father’s kingdom.

To help ease the agonizing wait, she had sought refuge in the chancellor’s tower and tried to calm her nerves by reading his tranquil words.

The chancellor had explained the situation to her in great detail before leaving for Muirwood Abbey. When Maia had learned he was bound for that abbey, she had begged him to bring word to her mother. Though he was, as always, sympathetic to her cause, he had refused, as he could not accommodate her without compromising his relationship with her father. It had been obvious from his distraught and haggard visage that the immensity of the problem weighed on him like stones. She had asked him in a whisper to explain the situation fully, to trust her to be discreet and never betray him.

“But what if not betraying me requires you to betray your lord father?” he had asked her wistfully, his eyes settling on her with compassion. “I would not ask you to do that, child. Your first allegiance must be to your Family.”

Then he had told her what he could of the complicated situation. As she knew, her parents had been married by irrevocare sigil. Only Maia’s mother had grounds to dissolve the marriage, but if she were to relinquish her claims as the king’s wife and queen, Maia would be disinherited formally and forever. Her banishment would become permanent, as fixed as an irrevocare sigil itself. The queen would not do that.

So the king was trying to dissolve the union politically and divorce her according to the laws of the Dochte Mandar. That would mean bringing Comoros under the power of the Chief Scribe of Naess, and the maston Families of the realm were against such an extreme measure, for it would give the Dochte Mandar unprecedented authority in the realm.

So a trial had been ordered to take place in Comoros to legally disavow the marriage. Only there was one problem. The queen refused to attend. She had claimed the right of sanctuary at Muirwood Abbey, and as a maston herself, she could not be forced to leave the grounds, no matter how much her husband blustered or threatened her.

Maia rubbed her shoulders, trying to suppress the shivering. Her soul was full of blackness and evil thoughts. She was proud of her mother, proud of her strength and her convictions. But Maia herself had no ability to claim the rights of sanctuary. She was a political pawn. Her mother had asked repeatedly for Maia to be sent to Muirwood to visit her, but each request was refused.

The king had threatened to march an army to Muirwood to take her by force, thereby breaking another maston oath, but the noble Families of the realm refused to acquiesce or obey the summons should he choose to make good on his threat. More and more of the ancient Families withdrew from court and stayed in their own Hundreds. In their place, a web of courtiers had emerged to insinuate themselves into her father’s good graces and sow discord in his ears. Lady Deorwynn’s Family were chief among these.

So it had been arranged for the trial to take place at Muirwood itself, where the Aldermaston of Muirwood would preside over it. Maia would have given anything to attend. The bitter feelings between her parents were creating a rift in the kingdom. It was doing the same thing to her heart.