The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(59)
“She is here,” Corriveaux whispered savagely. “My lord, has she touched you? Has she . . . kissed you?” His eyes were sick with dread and a little excitement.
Collier stood with easy confidence. “I am not a patient man under most circumstances. But truly, Corriveaux, this is deplorable timing. You cannot barge into your king’s tent uninvited. Be gone.” He waved a hand in lazy dismissal.
“Your Majesty, this is a matter of grave urgency. Your very life is in peril. Come here. Step closer to me.” He gestured slowly, as if Maia were a snake coiled to strike.
“Do you think she is going to stab me? I have been with the princess all evening, sir. We have enjoyed each other’s company in a most pleasant way, but not in the way you are supposing. I believe I ordered you to leave.”
“Your Majesty,” Corriveaux said, his distress growing more visible. “You must hearken to what I have to tell you. She is indeed the banished Princess of Comoros, but she is more than that.”
“You say truly,” Collier said, chuckling. She is my wife.
Maia stared at him in surprise. She had heard the thought as surely as if it had been whispered aloud.
“This is not a moment for jesting, my lord,” Corriveaux snapped. “If her mouth has touched you in any way, you are a dead man. It is my duty to your highness to offer you protection and advice. This creature is a spawn of darkness. She may already have corrupted you. We tracked her from the dark pool of the lost abbey. She is hetaera! There is no denying it.”
“How do you know this?” Collier said with open contempt. “You ride here like lions seeking prey, but must I remind you that I am the master of the realm? You have much to answer for, Corriveaux. Like traveling with soldiers impersonating the king’s men. Like the village of Argus. If you were part of that massacre—”
“—My lord, if you will indulge me a moment longer,” Corriveaux said, his fists clenching. He had finally found her after hunting her for days. He was not ready to let her go. Maia could see his desperation, especially at the mention of the mountain village.
“I have indulged your intrusion with remarkable patience. No, I have not kissed or been kissed by this woman. She is not a camp follower, Corriveaux. Not a harlot. She is the Princess of Comoros.”
“She is the banished princess,” Corriveaux corrected. “My lord, our spies in Comoros became aware of the plot. Her father sent her to the lost abbey to reawaken the hetaera order and begin the killing of mastons. She has the potential to destroy not just an insignificant village but every person living in Dahomey and beyond our borders. Not only does this allow King Brannon to divorce his wife, but it gives him the power to remove all those who oppose him. We have a spy very close to the throne, my liege. We learned about the vessel, her vessel—the Blessing of Burntisland. We found it moored off the cursed shores and captured its crew. They revealed her presence in your kingdom, my lord. We sent word for you by courier, but Your Majesty is difficult to find these days. She is a danger to Comoros, to Dahomey, to all the kingdoms. My lord, she must be taken to Naess and interrogated and executed. She is an abomination! The empire fell due to the plague the hetaera unleashed on these shores. Surrender her to me, my lord. I have enough men to contain her.”
Maia was terrified. She was trapped like a mouse, unable to flee. Even if she had her kystrel, which she did not feel around her neck, she could not have repulsed so many.
“I will give due consideration to all you have told me,” Collier said after a long pause. “Now depart, Corriveaux. Before I call my guard.”
Corriveaux looked down at the ground, his brow wrinkled with frustration. Maia felt a whisper of dread go through her, followed by a feeling of immense fear. When Corriveaux raised his head, his eyes were glowing silver.
“I fear you are under her sway, Your Majesty,” he said softly. “Your will is not your own.”
In a flash of speed, Collier’s blade came out of its sheath and he was suddenly right in front of Corriveaux, the tip aimed at his heart.
“You dare use the Medium against me?” Collier threatened. “Stop or I will run you through. I see your eyes, Corriveaux. Look into mine.”
Maia felt a surge of power rise up in the pavilion. It came from Collier, but she felt it, as surely as if it had been drawn from her muscles and bones. He has my kystrel, she realized. He wears it!
Corriveaux’s eyes widened with shock. He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “Oh, my lord king, what have you done?” He backed away slowly, trying to put some distance between the tip of the blade and his chest.
“I do not believe in your superstitions,” Collier said. “You use the kystrels to control our hearts and minds. I am protected from you. Remember that. Now, I have several nooses that were not put to use last night. You can all share them between you if need be.”
“That will not be necessary,” Corriveaux said, retreating to the tent flap. “You clearly have the situation well under control. I should not have doubted your wisdom.”
Collier barked a laugh. “You will answer for this, Corriveaux. Report to my Privy Council and await my judgment.”
“Yes, my liege. As you command.” Corriveaux bowed deeply. As he lifted, he shot Maia a murderous look, his lips twisted with rage.
The King of Dahomey had her kystrel. He wore it around his neck. She could see the thin chain against his skin. They were bound together now, and not just as husband and wife. The other five Dochte Mandar who traveled with Corriveaux sulked out of the tent after him.