The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(31)

“We were caught in the storm,” Suzenne said, trying to look presentable and failing. Her face wilted with mortification.

“Best to get indoors,” he advised. “You must have wandered far to have gotten so wet.” His tone was measured and nuanced. “I would advise you, young ladies, not to wander off the grounds. It is easy to get . . . lost.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Suzenne said, flushing.

He nodded and was about to leave, but he paused and took a close look at Maia. “I thought you were my daughter’s companion, Lady Clarencieux. It seems you have a new one?”

Maia’s insides shriveled with dread as she awaited Suzenne’s response. The sheriff had not addressed her directly, which was not unusual given that she was clothed in a wretched’s gown.

“Yes, the Aldermaston made the change,” Suzenne said. “Good evening.” She tugged on Maia’s arm and pulled her toward the kitchen door.





How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it. A single word, spoken in enmity, can scar a heart for a lifetime.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey





CHAPTER ELEVEN




Gallows



Even your shift is wet,” Suzenne said to Maia, nodding to the wet clothes hanging from the hooks by the fire Leering. “Here, take this instead of your nightgown if you are ready to get out of the bath. You can sleep in it tonight.” She offered her a white chemise of the softest fabric, one of several Suzenne had stored in her trunk.

Suzenne had already bathed, and her hair was freshly combed but still damp. The fire in the hearth licked with greedy tongues and the entire room was cozy and warm, smelling of the fragrant soaps and bath salts Suzenne had provided for their use. Maia had not felt so luxurious in years, and she tried to stifle the little pricks of envy that needled her heart. Suzenne’s Family had provided for her. Her wardrobe was bursting with gowns and slippers and shoes, and she had a locked jewelry box on the table.

“That is very kind,” Maia said thoughtfully. “Would you hand me the blanket to dry myself?”

Suzenne draped the blanket around Maia’s shoulders as she stepped out of the tub. The rush matting underfoot was soggy and damp. Cinching the blanket around herself, Maia turned to thank Suzenne. Her friend’s eyes were wide, her nostrils tightened with fear. She had seen the brand from the serpent Leering. Hot with shame, Maia tightened the blanket around her body and took the proffered chemise without saying a word, disappearing behind the changing screen to put it on.

There was a knock at the door, and Suzenne answered it while Maia changed. The two girls from the kitchen bubbled in, their voices chattering away.

“It is warm as the bread ovens in here,” said Aloia. “We should bake a loaf or two by the fire. Here is your supper.”

“Thank you,” Suzenne said.

“I will carry it, my lady. Do not fret yourself. Over on the table? Come, Davi, carry the pitcher of cider.”

“I am carrying it,” Davi replied, halting and catching herself. The cider sloshed. “Move! I almost spilled it.”

“You are so clumsy,” Aloia said, holding the door wide.

“You are so slow. Move on!”

The smell of trencher bread and stew filled the room, making Maia’s mouth water. She finished adjusting the strings on the chemise and emerged from around the changing screen. The two girls were jostling each other with the tray and pitcher, but they beamed when they saw her.

“Can we have another story?” Aloia asked imploringly.

“She has not eaten yet!” Davi said, stamping her foot. “Tomorrow. Be patient.”

“I am not very patient,” Aloia confessed. “Tomorrow, then?”

Maia nodded. “Thank you for bringing it in the rain,” she said, noticing the wet spots on their cloaks.

“It was no trouble,” Davi said. The girls curtsied and scurried back through the door, which Suzenne locked behind them.

Maia longed for her warm dinner, but her hair was tangled and damp and she knew she should comb it first. She walked to the stand where Suzenne kept the combs.

“Let me help you,” Suzenne offered. “It will go faster, and then we can both eat together.”

Maia was especially touched by the friendly gesture considering Suzenne’s reaction to seeing the hetaera’s mark. “Yes, thank you.” They each took a comb and started working through Maia’s dark tresses. Unbidden, a memory flooded inside of her, of warm hands and a comb. A creaking ship. The smell of him, standing behind her, fingers gliding through her hair. His face came unbidden to her mind, the scar on his cheek, his dark hair and blue eyes. Collier. Feelings came with the memory—confusing, painful, yet they caused a warmth inside her as well. Some part of her core was burning.

“What are you thinking of?” Suzenne asked, combing through another strand.

Maia had not realized her arms had stopped moving and that she was just sitting there, letting Suzenne do all the work.

“Forgive me,” Maia said, quickly resuming. “I was lost in a memory.”

“What of?”

She cringed, wondering how much she should reveal. Their friendship was still very new, and she was not yet ready to share such a treasured memory. To do so would make it less hers. “When I sailed to Naess, I was promised more than a kingdom if I would yield my . . . my mind. Yet yielding that would mean yielding my body, my actions, even my sense of self.” She sighed. “It was tempting, Suzenne. I was used to wearing rags and was offered the chance to be the empress of all the kingdoms.” She looked down at her hands. “I am ashamed at how tempting it was. I did keep the earrings, though. Just to remember why I left.” They were also a reminder of something else . . . someone else, but Maia was not ready to speak of that.