The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(94)

She had seen the look in his eyes—the struggle. As she swallowed, she realized that she had been tempted as well. There was something very powerful in a kiss, she realized. It was a mark of intimacy. It was a claiming and a surrendering. And she realized darkly that with the brand on her shoulder, it was a boon she could never give. To anyone. Not even her own children.

“One more thing,” he murmured softly. He returned again to the crate and withdrew another box made of sandalwood. It had a rich smell. It was about the size of a plate, tall enough for him to use both hands. When he opened it, her heart thrilled at the sight of the gold coronet inside. Delicately, he set down the box and settled the coronet on her head, pressing it gently until it stayed.

“Now you look like a queen.”

He knelt down in front of her, as if he were a knight paying homage, and grasped her hands in his. “You wished to tell me something, Maia. But before you do, I must tell you something first.”

Her heart hammered violently in her chest. “What is it?” Her throat was so tight it hurt.

“I must confess something. You are not at all as I imagined you would be. I have . . . how can I say this without it sounding strange? You have probably realized this by now, but I have thought of you for many years. We were destined to be together, you and I.” He swallowed. “First, we were trothed as infants to bring unity to our two kingdoms—Comoros and Dahomey. My real name, as you know, is Gideon, which I abhor and always have. Who wishes to be named after an ancient Aldermaston? You must call me Collier. Always. Promise me.”

“I will,” Maia said, smiling shyly.

“Thank you. Not in front of the nobles of the court, of course. You can address me with any endearment that suits you in that case. Second, when I was hostage to the Paeizians, I had a lot of time to think. Often I thought of you. I secretly hoped that your father would . . . well, that he would intervene. That he would help pay the ransom for me. It was a foolish hope, I know. I am ashamed to admit it. I hoped you would rescue me.” His mouth contorted into a sad smile. “I was disappointed. Heartbroken, actually. But my father finally paid the ransom and my brother and I were freed. Maia, there is nothing more important to me. My new name, Feint Collier, means freedom to me. Please keep the secret.”

Maia reached out and touched his shoulder. “I will.”

“That said, I must have freedom to ride, to explore, to wander off. I give you that same freedom. I will not control you. Not that I could! All I ask is that you offer me the same troth and do not bind me to pastures or plows or pillows. I must be free.”

Maia put her hands in her lap. “I do not have any problem with that. Though I do like to ride as well. I also like to hawk and hunt and practice archery.”

“And wander across deadly mountains,” he said, smiling wryly. “I envy your adventures. I would welcome your companionship. We are bound together in so many ways, Maia. Your name. My blood.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you that I read the tome of the Earl of Dieyre. He was a powerful man and a great soldier and swordsman. I have a Gift for making war, I think. My mind is always devising new tactics and stratagems. The one thing he failed to achieve in his life was winning the hand of his true love. Marciana was your namesake. Do you not feel that some . . . tug of destiny has drawn us both together? I am the descendent of the Earl of Dieyre. You are a descendent, albeit in a bit of a twisted fashion, of Marciana Price.” He looked at her earnestly. “Now I must ask you one more favor.”

Maia was not sure what to say. “What is it?”

He looked down at the floor. The vessel was rocking more violently now. There was a sudden dip and Maia felt herself flung out of the chair. They collided together, which startled them both, and Maia flushed with embarrassment. Once the initial surprise had passed, she started laughing, and he joined her.

“The sea is powerful,” Collier said, touching her waist to help her sit.

Maia found her seat again, still laughing at their forced embrace. She put a hand over her heart, feeling dizzy.

“I am almost afraid to tell you now,” Collier said, smiling. He reached out and took her shoulder, putting his hand on the brand. His touch sent feelings of blackness shooting through her heart. Her mind began to fog. Dizziness. Disorientation. Her heart sank and internally she screamed, No, not now! Not now!

“Collier,” she whispered, panting and trying to shrug his hand away, but he would not release her. His grip was firm, and she felt his touch draw out the creature inside her.

“Just one more thing, please. I must tell you. Maia, in all the tomes I have read about the Myriad Ones and the Dochte Mandar and the hetaera, even my ancestor’s tome, there is one thing they all agree on. One trait.” His grip on her shoulder tightened and she felt the mark burning, as if it had been set on fire. Fear and sickness battled in her stomach. She saw the edges of her vision begin to close, as if she were sinking into a dark hole. She clung on to the precipice of blackness.

No! No! Maia shrieked inside her mind. You cannot hurt him! You cannot have him! He is mine! He is my husband!

“What is it?” Collier asked. “You grow pale. Are you sick?”

Please no! Please not now! No!

She felt the power roil through her.

“Maia, do not betray me. Forget my other promises. I should have asked for this one first, but I was too afraid. The hetaera always betray those they love. Do not love me then. I could not bear it if you betrayed me . . .”