The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(61)
“I have many questions,” he said guardedly. “But I cannot trust answers from you. I must seek them from other sources. From other harbors.” He turned away from her and walked over to the wall. “You are either incredibly devious or utterly sincere. Or . . . quite possibly . . . both, depending on who is . . .” He regarded her significantly and tapped his forehead.
“I am myself right now,” Maia said resolutely, her insides twisting with suppressed feelings. “And I hope to be myself forever after. That is why I seek to become a maston.”
“Yes, I know,” he said in almost a pained voice. He shook his head. “I never wanted to marry a maston. Too sanctimonious. Too many scruples. Too . . . good. I admired my father as a man. He was a king-maston and he taught me to trust the Medium and surrender my will to it.” He grit his teeth in frustration. “To what end? He was vanquished by the King of Paeiz. His coffers were gutted by a ruthless neighbor seeking more land. Half of Dahomey is cursed anyway, and fighting border wars is tedious business. I crave land. I crave power. I already told you this, and I thought we had an understanding between us.”
She saw his ambition again, saw the gleam in his eye that said he would not be satisfied without conquest. It repelled her sensibilities.
“What good are fortunes and land when so many of your people are suffering in poverty, Collier?” Maia responded.
“What good is giving alms after you have given away everything and they are still poor?” he retorted. “You said in your letter that you seek to marry a maston. I am not one. I do not believe in Idumea. I think our forefathers chained our minds with their practices and beliefs. But let us suspend our opposing doctrines for a moment and say, just for argument’s sake, that you are the girl described in your letter. I assume you still do not want me to overthrow your father?”
Maia nodded once, briefly, and braced herself for his incredulity. The truth was, she was sorely conflicted, and each time she heard more about her father’s depredations, the feeling only worsened. But unless the Medium commanded her to, she would not depose him. Collier was the kind of man who could do that, but would he risk becoming like the man he despised in doing so?
“Of course not!” he said with a harsh chuckle. “So if I continue to uphold our marriage, I have shackled myself to a girl with no ambition and a father-in-law who is quite likely the most lecherous and tyrannical ruler in history! Yet I cannot topple him and do the kingdoms and you a favor.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “I have married a girl who is a simpleton, who would plead peace against logic . . . and thus thwart me in achieving my goals. To make matters even more insufferable, she is beautiful, and yet they say her kiss is death.” His jaw trembled with suppressed emotion. He breathed in heavily through his nose, calming himself deliberately. He shook his head wonderingly. “By what power, Wife, do you allure me? For I am half tempted, darling, to prove it wrong right now. I do not believe a kiss will be fatal, despite what the tomes say. If I am wrong . . . maybe I deserve to die.”
He took a step toward her, his gaze both a challenge and a question.
Maia shrank and retreated. “No, Collier,” she said, shaking her head to clear her own mind. Her heart thundered in her ears. How she wanted to kiss him. She could feel the temptation twisting inside of her. But she knew what would happen if she relented. She knew from personal experience that he was wrong, that a hetaera’s kiss was deadly. She still grieved for the dead Aldermaston of Cruix Abbey.
The sound of a rickety cart could be heard approaching the garden, could be heard as Collier stopped in front of her. Beyond the wall, Maia heard her grandmother’s voice greeting Thewliss warmly.
Collier stood in front of her, trembling, his eyes fixed on her face. A half-mocking smirk twisted his mouth. “You have not told your father yet about our marriage.”
“I have not,” she whispered. “Few know.”
He nodded. “Good.”
She closed her eyes, feeling sick inside. “What are your intentions?” she asked him. She desperately wanted to hear a rejection of the plans for him and Murer.
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “That you will have to learn for yourself, just as I must learn for myself who you truly are.”
Collier started toward the wall to escape, but stopped himself. He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming. “You are not very good at making allies,” he said simply. “You offend Crabwell and then scold Carew. Maybe you truly are this na?ve.” His eyes narrowed. “I may be slightly younger than you, but do not underestimate me. I cannot trust you, Maia. Nor should you trust me. We are allies at the moment. But that may change come Whitsunday.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Princess of Comoros
When Maia was reunited with Suzenne at the Aldermaston’s kitchen, she could tell her friend had experienced something transforming. Her countenance had altered, and her eyes were filled with a wisdom that had not been there before. The kitchen was tumultuous with preparations for Whitsunday, but the whirl seemed to still as their eyes met.
Suzenne set down her dish and hurried to Maia, brushing strands of Maia’s dark hair away from her forehead. “What happened to you last night?” she whispered, bringing Maia with her to a secluded spot beneath the loft. Sabine, who had come in with Maia, nodded at Suzenne and smiled, then greeted the two kitchen girls with hugs and accepted breakfast from them. Collett oversaw the kitchen bustle while sternly punching a mound of dough at a nearby table.