The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(52)

“Are you hungry?” Collier asked her.

“Very,” she replied. With the haze over the camp, she could not make out the stars through the open roof.

He settled down on the rug and motioned for her to join him. It was by the brazier, so it was plenty warm. She knelt and smoothed the fabric of her skirt.

“What questions do you have for me?” he asked, skewering some meat and placing it in the broth. He did several, including some for her.

“You said you faced the maston test,” Maia said. “At what abbey? How old were you?”

“How old do you think I am now?” he asked, arching his eyebrows. “Do you remember?”

She nodded. “I was a little child when our parents arranged the marriage. You are two years younger than me,” she said. “I remember that.”

“I have always preferred the idea of marrying someone closer to my own age than a rich heiress who would only desire me for my youth and handsomeness.” He winked at her. “I took the maston test a year ago. I knew I would fail it and I wanted to be done with abbey life. My ancestor Dieyre was restless also. You know most of the history, do you not? Of my Family?”

She dipped bread into the bubbling cheese and savored it. “Dieyre sired a son through a wretched from Muirwood before the Scourging. That child was not a wretched, for the mother, a lavender named Reome, acknowledged the parentage. He was adopted into a Family, thus removing the taint of illegitimacy.”

Collier nodded. “Would you care for some wine or cider?”

“Water, if you please.”

“I will not poison you, Maia,” he said with a chuckle. “Or twist your thoughts with drink. As I said, I prefer a willing partner.”

“Water, please.”

He nodded and went to a table and poured some water from a pitcher into a fancy carved goblet. After delivering it to her, he served himself a glass of wine and sat back down on the rug.

“So when our ancestors returned from the distant shores to reclaim the lands, they learned that Dieyre had been the last man alive in the kingdoms. Most of my Family were strong in the Medium. My father was particularly devout as a maston. But I lost my faith, you might say, in Paeiz.”

Maia looked at him in curiosity. She smelled the cup first, tasted it, and made sure it was just water.

“As you know, all the various kingdoms continue to fight and wage war on each other. There was a land dispute between Dahomey and Paeiz. With so much of my kingdom still cursed, arable land is precious. What began as a border skirmish turned into a full-out war. My father summoned the army and went north and clashed with the Paeizian forces. It was a humiliating defeat, Maia. You know of it?”

“Yes, I learned of it when I was settling land disputes with Pry-Ree. War is wasteful.”

“We may agree to disagree on that point. My father was captured and humiliated by the Paeizians. In order to secure his release, he had to give them his two sons as hostages. My brother, whom you met earlier this evening pretending to be me, and I were sent to live at an abbey in Paeiz and receive our maston training there. To be honest, I spent more time finding ways to slip away from the abbey than I did learning to read and engrave. I was always discovered and fetched back, mind you, but I learned a few things that cannot be taught in tomes.” He removed the steaming meat skewers from the pot and set them down on a tray shared between them. She studied his hands, the small nicks and scars showed he was used to work and had been in many fights. It made her wonder how his hands had been so abused, especially since she now knew he had never been a wretched.

“Thank you,” she said, taking one of the skewers and eating the meat from it.

He waved her off as if it did not matter at all. “I met the king’s collier in Paeiz, who was often sent to the abbey to report on my brother and me.”

“What abbey?” she pressed.

“Antimo,” he answered, smiling. “Full of vineyards and orchards. It is a beautiful place. The king’s collier would come and go as he pleased. He was excellent at Paeizian fencing and started to train me when I was but ten.”

“You have studied for many years then,” Maia said, impressed.

“Yes, I was more disposed to weapons than tomes. And wine. I have very discriminating tastes, you will learn. I know that cider is a popular drink in Comoros. I like it, but apples are not the best fruit.” He took a bite from a meaty skewer and paused to savor it. “So my brother and I spent our formative years away from my father’s court. I was envious of my mentor’s freedom and wished that I could escape the drudgery of the abbey as he did, riding across the kingdom delivering messages and reports to and from his king. Before I even became king, I created the idea of Feint Collier. When I finally returned home, I would steal away from my lessons at the castle and ride long and hard and visit every corner of my father’s realm. That is how I met men like Jon Tayt and many others, who know me by my disguise rather than my true rank.” He tipped his wine goblet toward her. “So you see, that is another reason I pitied you, Maia. My imprisonment was the result of defeat. My father had no choice but to use his sons as hostages. He did all he could to raise the ransom to secure our release, and it took many years. Your father, on the other hand, imprisoned you himself. Did you not ever think of escaping?”

Maia sighed. The comfortable warmth of the fur rug and the savory food was distracting her from her objective. She was still angry at him for his blatant deception, but she could now see that trickery was part of his personality, part of his heritage even. She wanted to learn more about him, for it was impossible to tell how much of his reputation as the Mark was true, and how much had been his own invention. And she could not deny the little wriggling fish of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. He dared to do things she would never dream of doing. Loyalty was her duty. Not just to her father, but to her people.