The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(25)
“Yes,” Maeg said, circling around the desk to face Maia directly. “I can see why you are sad. It is pitiable, indeed.”
“No, that is not it,” Suzenne said, her voice flustered.
Maia lifted her gaze and stared at Maeg calmly, as if she were nothing more annoying than a bothersome fly.
“You should have been born a wretched,” Maeg said tightly, her face betraying her animosity at last. “You certainly look the part. You come in here with your airs and your languages and your reading. You look like a wretched. Do you obey orders like one?”
“Maeg,” Suzenne said plaintively.
“You may have been the princess once,” Maeg said, dropping her voice low. “Used to giving commands and orders. Snap your fingers,” she said, snapping her own sharply to add force to the words. “But look at you now.”
Suzenne approached and tugged on Maeg’s arm. “The Aldermaston’s wife is coming,” she whispered in an urgent voice. “She will hear you!”
Maeg stared at Maia coldly, her eyes blazing with heat, with power, with the desire to humiliate. Maia had seen such looks before. There were some women in the world who could only grow in their own eyes if they crushed another girl beneath them.
Maia pitied her, truly. Maeg had been born to privilege and groomed as a member of a favorable Family, but she would have to earn her place in the kingdom by manipulating the feelings of her betters. Glory was a tottering ladder to be climbed—one lie and half-truth and well-placed compliment at a time. The higher one ascended the rungs, the more exhilarating and nerve-racking the view . . . and the more devastating the fall.
Not giving in to the taunt, not giving in to the vengeful thoughts, not surrendering to the goading . . . Maia discovered a reservoir of power inside her, a calm placid lake that was undisturbed. The Medium soothed the hurt as she looked away from Maeg and slowly took her seat.
There was an expression of satisfaction in Maeg’s eyes—she had wanted to see Maia humbled and speechless, though she clearly did not understand her reasons for not reacting. Maia saw the other girls staring at Maeg in horror and fear. Yes, they were all afraid of her turning her claws on them next. Maeg strutted through the class, found her place, and sat there primly and elegantly, as if she were the queen of the world. Maia smiled to herself and shook her head, picturing the other girl atop that trembling ladder.
Suzenne sat down next to Maia, her cheeks flushed. “I am sorry,” she whispered.
Maia felt nothing but serenity. Maeg’s barbs were too dull to stick inside her.
The Aldermaston’s wife mounted the steps and entered. The girls were restless with the energy of the impending news. Their eyes hungered for word of the changes coming.
Maia said nothing, knowing already that the Aldermaston’s wife would tell them very little.
“Girls, we have a new guest staying at the abbey. He arrived last night. The sheriff of Mendenhall will be spending the winter with us until Whitsunday. He will be monitoring the progress of the work on the abbey before the arrival of the king and queen.” Her eyes were very serious. “Celia.”
All the girls looked startled. The wretched’s face grew grave. “Yes?”
“You will be assigned to wash the sheriff’s clothes. You will also go through any correspondence he gets from court. Memorize it and report what you learn to the Aldermaston. That is your assignment. The others will support you in any way you see fit.”
Her voice was stern and iron hard as she stared at each girl in turn. “Many of you will be assigned to serve different households when the court arrives. The fate of the kingdom will be decided before the year is out. This may be the end of the Ciphers or the beginning of your usefulness to the Medium’s will.”
As I have studied the tomes of the ages, I have discerned that our behavior flows from three main sources. Desire. Emotion. Knowledge. Is it not the sign of a true maston when all three are harmonized? When they are, great power comes from the Medium to aid us.
—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey
CHAPTER NINE
Guilt
When she was younger, Maia had enjoyed her music lessons the most. There was an inherent magic in creating music, in coaxing sounds from different instruments, freeing the peculiar possibilities of each. At Muirwood Abbey, she found that portion of the instruction to be the most disappointing, if only because Maeg made each lesson her own personal performance.
Since their confrontation in the cloisters before dawn, Maeg’s callousness and spite had only bloomed with the rising of the sun. Though Maia had continued to ignore her barbed attacks, it had only made them worse. Maia waited with painful anticipation for the studies to end, especially the dreaded music session, so that she could wander the grounds and try to scrub the ill thoughts from her mind like one would attempt to wash smoke fumes from a garment.
The time ended and Maia put away her lute, pausing to stroke the curved bowl fondly, wishing she could disappear with it back into her room. There was still a little blue in the sky outside, but the sun was setting earlier and earlier as winter set in, providing less time to wander the grounds after lessons.
Maeg finished a beautiful string of chords on the harp—her favorite instrument—and some of the girls tittered words of praise. Hoping to escape before she was seen, Maia moved quickly toward the door.