The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(47)

Maia felt a burning sensation in her chest at his words. It was like a feeling of heat, but it was also a feeling of grief and of love—as if she could sense the true feelings the Aldermaston held for her. This was how a father should feel toward his daughter.

“Thank you,” Maia whispered softly, trying to contain the surge of feelings inside her. She looked from face to face again, feeling the power of love and sympathy. Inside this council room in the Aldermaston’s manor, she felt embraced by these wonderful people. But there was something more. It was almost a whisper, a breath that could be felt but not heard. The room, she realized, was full to the brim. There were others with them as well, unseen spirits.

The Aldermaston stiffened suddenly, breathing out sharply. “They are with us,” he sighed.

His wife nodded, squeezing his hand. The room throbbed with energy and emotion, with the thoughts and feelings of dozens of unseen minds and hearts. This room had been built on the grounds of the previous abbey. The Aldermaston before it had burned to the ground, Gideon Penman, had sacrificed his life to safe the abbey, to save Lia. Maia could not see the dead, but she sensed them in the air around her, thick like swirling leaves in an autumn windstorm. She could feel their determination and intensity.

The Covenant of Muirwood must be fulfilled, she could hear them whispering. This moment was not about her and the rights that had been unjustly stripped away. It was about thousands of the dead who had been banished as well . . . banished because the Apse Veils were closed. She could feel them staring at her, willing her to succeed, trying to imbue her with the strength to open the gates so they could move on to Idumea. There were countless unseen hosts of the dead and she felt the awful weight of the burden they placed on her shoulders.

Free us, they seemed to whisper to her. Open the Veil.

Maia put her face in her hands, quivering under the pressure of it. How could she face such a task? Such a burden? She was a hetaera, her shoulder scarred with the brand. How could she, of all people, face such a challenge?

She looked up, tear-stricken, and realized the others were staring at her in compassion. “I do not know how I can do this,” Maia said, her voice trembling. There are so many . . . so many counting on me. The enormity filled her mind, making her weak and doubtful.

“You will not do it alone,” the Aldermaston’s wife whispered.

But in Maia’s heart, she realized the Aldermaston’s wife was wrong.



Jon Tayt escorted her to the abbey just before dawn. A deep fog had settled over the grounds that night, shrouding everything in gray. Argus padded at her heels, sniffing the grass and flowerbeds as they passed. They reached the gate and saw a solitary man standing there, holding a torch to dispel the gloom. By his bulk, she could tell it was the chancellor.

As Maia walked toward the prick of light, she continued to feel the burden that had settled on her shoulders the night before. She had not slept at all. She was surrounded by ghosts, and she felt them with her at that very moment, keeping step with her, pleading with her. The strain on her mind and her emotions was intense.

The gate was closed. Maia stepped up and touched the cold, wet bars. The chancellor approached, eyeing her warily. She could hear the nickering of horses farther back, but the mist was as thick as soup.

The chancellor studied her face, looking for signs of what her answer would be.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Chancellor,” she said, trying to sound brave. “I came to Muirwood to become a maston. My parents both were and so were my ancestors. I feel a great . . . obligation to continue in the order. I will do my duty, Chancellor. I do not seek to be distracted by the politics of the court. Farewell.”

He stepped closer, his head nearly touching the bars. “Are you quite certain?” he hissed in a low voice. His jaw quivered with pent-up anger. She would not be his tool, his ally, the rope to prevent him from drowning. His eyes were accusing.

“I am,” she replied simply and turned to walk away.

“And what if you are cast out of your precious abbey?” he sneered at her, then checked his tone and made it more respectful. “These gates cannot protect you long, Lady Maia. Even if you become a maston.”

Maia heard a trickling sound and turned, seeing Argus, leg lifted, relieving himself on the gate post, the mess splattering onto the chancellor’s boots. His expression turned to disgust, and he scowled at the dog, backing away angrily.

Maia turned away to cover her smile and started off into the mist full of ghosts.

“Well done, Argus,” Jon Tayt muttered, right behind her.





Mastons learn that a peaceful conscience invites relief from anguish, sorrow, guilt, and shame. It provides a foundation for joy. It is of immeasurable worth. It is also incredibly rare.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




The King’s Captain



Studies ended and Maia was anxious to breathe the fresh spring air and roam the grounds a bit to stretch her legs before supper. The learners were all gossiping about the upcoming Whitsunday festival and what would take place. The king’s boon companion and captain of his guard, Captain Carew, had arrived to settle the king’s accommodations. Maia learned her father would be staying at the Pilgrim Inn, just outside the grounds, and Captain Carew had come with a small cohort to inspect the inn and prepare it for the arrival of the royal visitors. He had brought a fat purse with him and was lavish in spending in the king’s name. There was much speculation as to why her father had chosen to stay outside the abbey grounds, but it was on everyone’s mind that a change in leadership at the abbey was under way.