The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(49)

She gave him an angry stare.

“I interrupted you. Forgive me.” He fell quiet, though he seemed to be chafing with impatience. He swung the kystrel back and forth, back and forth.

“As soon as the Dochte Mandar left, the Myriad Ones invaded our realm. We have mastons, but they were not strong enough—or plentiful enough—to withstand the tide. Our kingdom is fracturing from within.”

He looked about to say something, but he clenched his jaw tight and did not.

“I was sent by my father to seek the lost abbey to learn from the rites of the dark pool how we could overcome the dangers we face and keep the kingdom united. I visited the hetaera’s Leering. It was hidden away behind a stone door. There were dead Dochte Mandar all around it. Skeletons. None of them were allowed to leave.”

Collier leaned forward, listening intently.

“I learned that the answers I seek—the solution for saving my people—can be found in Naess. There are records that were taken there, and only the High Seer—a woman—can show me where they are. That is where my fate binds me. I must go to Naess.”

“You thought I was mad,” he muttered under his breath. “You . . . are going there, my pretty dove?”

“I must,” she said softly. “I will likely not survive the journey. But I must try. My people are murdering each other.”

He leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking as he shifted. He sniffed once and then shook his head in disbelief. “You are very good, Maia,” he said at last. “Your sincerity rings so true, I almost believe you. You are Gifted with lying. Well done.”

She bristled with fury. “I speak the truth!”

“What is truth?” he countered flippantly. “I think your father sent you to the lost abbey to brand you a hetaera. If he can prove you are one, he will be able to claim your mother is as well. Then even the mastons will sanction his divorce, giving him what he has desired all along. A corrupt kingdom where he can practice his depredations without interference.”

“Is that not what you desire?” she said angrily. It made her blister with fury to consider her father may have sent her to Dahomey for an entirely selfish purpose. But no matter what his motives were, she had to do this thing. She had to save her people.

Collier looked amused and batted away her comment as if it were a tiresome fly. “The Dochte Mandar. The mastons. They are all the same in my mind. I know a group of heretics in the hinterlands who believe that trees can speak in women’s voices. It is all a game of power, my dear. I excel at it. My ancestor managed to unite all the kingdoms under one ruler through the force of his will. I seek to do the same.”

“He ruled over a kingdom of bones,” Maia said with disgust. “I saw them south of here. He ruled an ossuary.”

Collier’s look darkened. “At least he ruled something,” he said softly. The chair creaked again as he rose. He started to pace. Then he turned to her. “Let me see your shoulder.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“If you wish, we can be man and wife first,” he teased. “Despite your stubbornness and ill humor, I do wish to honor the plight troth. Let me be blunt, lass. I am imprisoning you until you relent.”

She screwed up her courage. “Until the Dochte Mandar find me.”

“I will move you from one manor to another. From one hideaway to the next. You are too precious for me to let you slip from my fingers again. Perhaps you go to Naess to destroy the seat of the Dochte Mandar yourself. Maybe you will kiss the High Seer and kill her with your lips.” He narrowed his eyes. “I am not sure I even believe the legend, myself. For you, I would almost risk it. But just in case the mastons have been telling the truth all along, I do not think I will.” He took a deliberate step toward her. “I would not stand in the way of your journey, if you are intent on making it, but you are to be mine.” His eyes narrowed with satisfaction. “I will make your father suffer for his ill treatment of you, Maia.”

There was a part of her that desired to relent. To throw down her pride, succumb to her shame, and abandon her duty. But to do so would mean marrying a man who believed her a hetaera—a man who was willing to destroy the world so long as he could rule it. And though she knew her father intended for her never to marry, she longed for it. Her heart’s wish was to be a maston, married by irrevocare sigil to another maston. She believed in the bond, though her father did not.

Still, her father was the one who had brought the kingdom to this precipice, and if he had truly sent her to the lost abbey with the hope that she would become a hetaera. . . . What a twisted dilemma she faced. But could she depose her own father? Could she commit treason? If only she knew her father’s true mind, his true intentions for her. She hardly knew her own heart.

“I do not wish my father harm,” she finally said.

“Done.”

She looked at him curiously.

“This is a marriage negotiation. Name your terms, Maia. A political match. Here are my terms. I will not love you. I will not consummate this marriage. I will vow it on the Medium or whatever oath you would have me take. Now name yours.”

“Release me,” she said, holding up her bonds.

“Done.” He drew the dirk again and slit the bonds. The ropes fell away, and she felt a jolt of relief. She rubbed her sore wrists, staring at Collier as she would a mountain lion.