The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(50)

Maia closed her eyes, trying to steel herself. “Why are you here, Collier?” she asked.

He spread his arms and began to pace around the garden. “I am celebrating Whitsunday here, my dear. I know how you love to dance.”

The words were meant to hurt her, and they did. She stiffened.

“I am still a little shocked . . .” he went on. “Forgive my emotions, but are you truly such a simpleton as to walk around unprotected? I came with Carew today to help test the abbey’s defenses. There are none!” He sounded outraged. “There were no stern Leerings giving us frowning looks to warn us away. I told Carew to go hawking with Tayt to see how vulnerable it would leave you. I have been talking to many on the grounds, learning what I could about you, and it should shock you how easily I found out about your affection for this place. The garden is beautiful, Maia,” his voice rising almost to a shout, “but if I had been sent here to murder someone, it would have been too easy! The Leering at the door did not stop me from climbing the wall. Are you truly such a fool?”

Maia swallowed, feeling unnamable emotions raging inside her. Her words were all lost to her in that moment. He looked angry, certainly, but he also looked . . . worried about her. As if he actually still, to some small degree, cared about her safety.

She wiped her nose on her knuckle quickly. “I am glad you are here,” she said, trying to calm herself. “I have longed to speak with you.”

“Oh, I have been longing for this as well,” he said bitterly, his eyes flashing. “The ransom is paid, my dear. My kingdom is bankrupt. I am in debt, and I know not even the interest to be paid.” He dropped his voice lower. “If I topple your father and claim all his taxes, it may not be enough to relieve the burden. It will probably take years, but I will repay every last farthing, pent, and mark. I will owe no man anything.” His voice was almost a growl. Then he huffed and turned away from her.

Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm. He flinched and jerked away from her.

“I am sorry,” Maia said, struggling to speak through the tears stinging her eyes.

He held up his hand. “Please, spare me the humiliation of enduring your apology,” he said. When he turned toward her again, his eyes were raw with fury, his mouth tight with emotion. His voice fell even lower. “I knew what you were. There is no apology needed. It was your right to betray me. Maybe even your duty. I allowed that possibility when I forced you to marry me. I knew what . . .” His voice became strangled, his eyes sparking with unsuppressed fury. “Goch, I cannot even say the word any longer!” he snarled venomously. “Whatever spell you put on me is still working. I cannot name it, but we both know what you are.” His hand shot out and gripped her left shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin. He did it deliberately, his eyes locked on hers.

His touch on her brand caused a queasiness to rupture inside her stomach. For a moment, she felt a veil of blackness darken her mind. She heard a hiss of pain, of terror, of compulsion—from herself?—and then the dark feelings skittered away. Maia blinked, feeling dizzy, but she did not totter or fall.

She deliberately looked into his eyes as she pushed his arm away. “Please do not touch me there,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

Collier looked at her in surprise, his eyes widening. He had obviously expected a different reaction.

Maia licked her lips, trying to find enough moisture to speak. “Do you still wear the kystrel?” She could not see the sign of a chain around his throat.

He shook his head no, then tugged at the front of his shirt, revealing the whorl of the tattoo on his skin. “The Victus took it away, saying you wanted to give it to another man. I have not worn it for many months, but the taint, as you can see, is permanent. Who has your kystrel now? The axe boy?” he asked with a hint of jealousy.

“I do not know,” Maia said, shaking her head. “I am here to become a maston, Collier. I never . . . I never wanted to be anything else.”

He chuckled softly. “And here I thought you came to burn this abbey too.”

The stab drew blood and Maia flinched.

He cocked his head, hearing the sound of people approaching the gardens. He gave her another scathing look, then jumped onto the edge of the flower bed, sprang onto the wall, and nimbly climbed it. After reaching the top, Collier gave her one parting glance—a look full of retribution—and then slipped over the edge and disappeared.

Maia’s heart was breaking. The pain made her nearly crumple to the ground, but she stayed firm, willing herself not to cry. She heard the Aldermaston’s voice as the door to the gardens opened again, punctuated by Dodd’s invective.

Maia turned to the plot of flowers, seeing the white lily amidst the blue. She carefully cupped it in her hand and then slipped it into the pouch at her waist.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




Confessions



Who was that man?” Suzenne asked softly, standing behind Maia and combing her hair gently. “A collier is a stablehand, is it not? A horseman? Is he with the king’s retinue?”

Maia heart had churned all throughout supper, and she had eaten no more than a bite, her stomach too twisted to permit food. She had known she would not be able to escape talking about it forever. The teeth of the comb dragging through her tresses and the warmth of the fire from the Leering were both sensations that normally soothed her, but tonight they could not.