The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(53)

“We are very different,” she said after taking a quick sip from her drink. “You always sought to escape Antimo Abbey. You wanted to be free. What I desired above all else was to be sent to an abbey. I want to learn from the tomes.”

“Done,” he said, winking at her. “In my realm, it will not be forbidden.”

“You would defy the Dochte Mandar?” she asked challengingly.

“I defy everyone, including you.” He sat up and brushed his hands together. “I hunger to humble Paeiz. Dahomey is too weak to do it, but with Comoros, I will prevail. I think Pry-Ree will be wise enough to submit to us without an invasion. They are the smallest kingdom, and we do owe them something for saving us all. One by one, chit by chit, mark by mark, crown by crown. I am deeply ambitious, Maia.”

“I can see that,” she agreed. “What you ask me to do is called treason, though, in my kingdom. My father declared me illegitimate.”

“And I will make him repent his words and actions,” Collier answered. “Just as my father was humiliated by the King of Paeiz, I will humble your father. I am gathering my strength to invade Comoros, Maia. One of the terms of surrender I was willing to accept was you. You are his heir, whether he admits it or not.”

She shook her head. “How can I betray my own people?”

“How can you stand by a father who tossed aside his lawful marriage and banished his wife and his daughter?” He leaned forward eagerly. “What else do you wish to know of your husband to be?”

She stared into his eyes. “How can I trust anything you have told me?” she asked, sighing. “Nearly every word you have spoken to me has been a lie.”

“Lies are the spices that garnish a dish. They do not change a fowl into a fish. They only season them.”

She shook her head, not convinced. “A pretty saying, my lord, but it does little to ease my apprehension.”

“What do you fear?” he pressed.

“You said if I married you, you would let me go. Why would you do that? You said you would not consummate the marriage because you believe I am a hetaera. What if I am not? Besides, your plan gives me plenty to fear—such an act would be considered treason in any kingdom.”

He snorted. “You are trying to save your kingdom. Or at least, that is what you pretend. Your father sent you to my kingdom to find a cure for the Myriad Ones. The only cure is to allow the Dochte Mandar back into the realm. He is too stubborn to realize that. But truly, Maia, does this not all hinge on whether or not you are lying to me? I want to believe your stories, but they do not align with common sense. You have admitted going to the lost abbey. Prove you are not a hetaera. Or I will force you to reveal yourself by wearing your kystrel. As I have said, I would prefer for you to be willing. But you will wed me before the sun rises. Dieyre waited too long for his Marciana. I will not make the same mistake.”

Maia tried to settle her breathing. Involuntarily, she started to tremble.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She was not. She was terrified. She hoped enough time had passed to give the kishion an opportunity to escape and for Jon Tayt to put some distance between himself and the camp. “So you seek to marry me regardless? Even if I am not a hetaera?”

“Truly, I do,” he said. “The political advantage exists regardless. Surely you realize that.”

“Yes,” she said. Why could she not stop trembling? She was suddenly so very tired. Weariness and exhaustion plundered her strength. She had been in flight for so long; her muscles ached with fatigue. The supper in her stomach was pleasant.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking concerned.

“I am weary, that is all,” she said.

“I know I have said it before, but you are not what I expected,” he said, giving her a probing look. “Not at all. I had truly expected you would be more . . . willing. It almost seems as if you have a conscience.”

She stared at him and smiled sadly. “I do.”

He took another gulp from his cup. “Very well. Time to lay aside the games. Prove your words through actions. I spared your servants, though little they deserved it.”

Maia nodded. “Let me prove my innocence.” A horrible, guilty feeling swelled inside her breast, though she little understood it. The Medium will guide you, she assured herself. It had led her to the north road. It had led her to this man’s tent. She had to trust it. She had to trust the path she was on.

Maia began to unfasten the lacings on her bodice, loosening them enough to expose her shoulders. It mortified her, for the first few strings exposed the curving tattoos that had climbed up her chest—a mark she normally went to great lengths to hide. Her fingers shook and she struggled to compose herself, for she was blushing furiously, embarrassed for his guarded eyes to stare at her so fixedly.

“The kystrel leaves a taint on the skin, as I said,” she explained as she worked loose the weave. “Even the Dochte Mandar have it. It is a consequence of using the magic.”

“I know,” he said, his eyes still studying her.

Maia felt her breath quickening. He was staring at her hungrily now. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she knew she should hurry and finish the deed so she could cover herself again. Clumsily, she undid a few more lacings, just enough—and then pulled the fabric away from her shoulder.