The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(38)
Suzenne was weeping as well, covering her mouth with her hand as she always did when she was upset. Her eyes radiated absolute misery.
“We must tell Dodd,” Suzenne gasped. “Maia, we must tell him before the sheriff does!”
“We cannot,” Maia argued in despair. “How will we say we learned of it? We cannot betray the secret.”
Suzenne shook her head. “This is too painful. He must know! Celia, you must tell the Aldermaston straightaway. He must know at once!”
“I will wait for him in his study,” Celia said, nodding and hurrying away.
Maia and Suzenne clung to each other as they walked aimlessly through the snow, both too upset to decide where to go or what to do. Maia stared up at Muirwood Abbey—still hidden beneath a shell of scaffolding—her heart burning in her chest. How could the Medium have forsaken them? What did it want them to do? She had learned to listen for its frail whispers, but at the moment she was too upset. One of the lessons the Aldermaston had taught her again and again was that anger masked the feelings of the Medium.
The silence of the wintry grounds was disturbed by the sound of an axe splitting wood. She tugged on Suzenne’s arm and started for Jon Tayt’s lodge, wanting to tell him the news so he would keep his eye on Dodd. The two had become friends, and Maia knew that Dodd had taken a liking to the hunter and valued his counsel.
“I am heartsick,” Suzenne said, shaking her head. “When a dog goes mad, one puts it down. But what do you do to a king?” She stared at Maia desperately. “We have enemies aplenty, kingdoms that want to invade our realm and rob our wealth. If we do not stand united, Comoros will fall like ancient Pry-Ree. Oh Maia, do you think the Blight will come now?”
“I do not know,” Maia said, feeling a devastating conflict churn within her. Her father was the king. If he were to fall, then Lady Deorwynn and her brood would rule.
Rebellion.
The thought twisted in her mind, dangling in front of her like sharp daggers. In the long-ago past, a wayward king who murdered mastons had been defeated on a field called Winterrowd. Was there a Garen Demont they could call upon now—a leader of men who had been banished to another realm? No, there was not. But there was her husband, the King of Dahomey. And he was festering in a dungeon in Naess, betrayed by his own wife.
They rounded the end of the lodge as another piece of oak shattered into kindling. She expected to see Jon Tayt swinging the cleaving axe, but the hunter was nowhere to be seen. It was Dodd, his tunic cast aside, his padded shirt open at the collar, exposing the glint of his chaen. He had a look of murderous rage on his face as he kicked away the scraps of wood and hefted another thick round on the block. He grabbed the axe again, his arm and neck muscles bulging as he swept it over and around, splitting the log in a jagged line.
They both knew at once that Dodd already knew, and Suzenne gasped at the sight of him. His mouth was tightened in an animal snarl, his teeth exposed and clenched together. Hate blazed on his face. Trickles of sweat trailed down his cheeks as he stepped back and swung the axe again, a loud crack echoing in the small clearing.
One of the standing pieces of wood tottered and he kicked it off, then stuck the axe blade into the stump and went for another round of wood.
“I see you have heard too,” he snarled, grunting as he lifted the heavy round. He twisted the axe free and stepped back. His face scrunched with fury as he swung the blade down again, the wood splitting into pieces, the loud thunder of it echoing.
“My brothers are all dead,” Dodd said, moving another piece into view. “My father is dead. My mother is a widow. And I . . . I am the greatest coward-maston who ever walked Comoros.” Another crack of thunder as pieces of wood clattered about.
“No, Dodd,” Maia said. “You are not a coward.”
He stared at her, eyes lit with wild rage, gripping the axe as if choking it. “Do not coddle me, Maia. I can bear the truth. I am a coward and a fool. If I were a man, I would have Jon Tayt use this axe against me and then send my head to the king’s table, just as my father’s head was delivered to the false queen’s. I hate your father, Maia. I hate him more than I have hated anything other than my own self.” His cheeks quivered. “I should have left Muirwood. Why did I stay here so long!” He flung the axe aside and it landed in the snow with a hiss.
Maia knew there was nothing she could say to calm or comfort him. In this moment, in his red streak of rage, he probably saw her as being complicit in her father’s crimes.
“You are not a coward, Dodleah Price,” Suzenne said angrily. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she marched up to him. “You never wanted to be a soldier. Your older brothers did. Your ambition was to be an Aldermaston someday. And I admired you for it. You came to Muirwood because you wanted to study under the best Aldermaston of the realm. The kindest, most thoughtful man in the whole world. You can feel the Medium’s whispers better than anyone I have ever known. I am the coward, Dodd! I abandoned you because my parents were worried the king would despise us if I were to marry you.” She started sobbing, but she struggled through her tears to speak her words. “You are the kindest, wisest, most patient man I have ever known. And I left you, abandoned you—disappointed you when you needed me most.” She swallowed. “I am the coward, Dodd. But I have found my courage at last. Forgive me for deserting you. I will not desert you now. Dodd, I love you!”