The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(65)

Maia sighed and scanned the room to take her mind off his plotting. Lady Deorwynn’s five ladies-in-waiting were seated off to one side, and Maia easily discerned which young woman was Jayn Sexton. Covert glances were exchanged between Suzenne and the dark-haired girl with the heart-shaped, demure face—a face that looked even more miserable than Maia felt. Maia could tell the two wanted to speak privately, but it was not possible in such a room with so many eyes to witness.

Joanna was in the middle of her lute piece when Murer’s younger sister, Jolecia, appeared next to Maia and pitched her voice very low. “My mother wishes to speak with you privately, Maia.”

Maia turned, startled to see her stepsister standing there so uncomfortably. Across the room, Lady Deorwynn looked flushed, almost feverish. She was watching the girl play, but her hands fidgeted with nervousness.

Maia nodded and slowly slipped away from Suzenne’s side, walking discreetly around the room to where Lady Deorwynn stood by her ladies-in-waiting. Collier and Murer were seated next to the musicians, listening appreciatively to the melancholy song. He observed Maia’s departure, but he betrayed nothing other than a swift glance. Murer whispered something to him behind her hand and tittered softly.

The thought of speaking privately with Lady Deorwynn filled her with strong, unsettling emotions. This was the woman who had distracted her father from his marriage vows. This was the woman who had arranged her banishment from court. This was the woman who had ordered her mother to humiliate Maia by using her as the lowliest household servant. She tried to slow her pounding heart, reminding herself that she was truly a legitimate daughter and princess and she must act with grace and calm.

“Yes, Lady Deorwynn?” Maia said formally, curtsying.

Lady Deorwynn’s nostrils flared when Maia did not address her as queen. But Maia had never recognized the marriage; she had only ever referred to her mother as the queen. Lady Deorwynn kept watching the music, holding up her hand to prevent conversation. The song finished and everyone clapped. Maeg took her turn next, seating herself behind a giant harp. She straddled the instrument confidently, her back stiff and poised, her arms hanging loosely. Her fingers began to pluck chords, teasing out beautiful notes.

“Very good,” Collier murmured in an overly pronounced Dahomeyjan voice, nodding approvingly. “Lovely and talented.”

As the music swelled around them, Lady Deorwynn’s brittle voice slipped under the sweet sounds, her voice very low and private. Maia could see it pained her to be civil.

“Thank you for seeing me, Marciana. I had hoped for a chance to speak with you before your father arrived.”

Maia frowned but said nothing, waiting for the woman to speak.

Lady Deorwynn’s eyes flashed to hers, her cheeks flushing with emotion. “We have not always been friendly with each other,” she began awkwardly.

“We have never been friendly,” Maia corrected stiffly. “But that is understandable considering the circumstances.”

“Why must you make this more difficult?” Lady Deorwynn seethed, but she caught herself. Her jaw was trembling with suppressed wrath. She swallowed deliberately, attempting to calm herself. “Yes, I have mistreated you in the past. Do you want me to say it? Then I have said it. It was . . . beneath me. I am sorry for it, Marciana, truly I am. I do not expect you to believe me. You are young and have a vengeful temperament. Unfortunately that is very common in youths.”

“You malign me unjustly, madame,” Maia replied softly. “You should get to know me before you claim to judge my character.”

Lady Deorwynn looked at her, shocked and angry. “Judge your character? We have all witnessed your character, child. You are the most obstinate, headstrong young woman who ever left her mother’s womb! You were spoiled as a child, which made you proud. Any other child would have accepted the diminishment of her station and reconciled herself to it. Yet you have refused to do so despite all reason, dignity, and duty.”

Maia felt the angry warmth shoot all the way to her ears, but she bridled her tone. “You do not know me at all,” she replied simply. “You have never tried.”

Lady Deorwynn bristled. “I know enough . . . witnessed by my own mother. And what I have seen myself.” The lady’s green eyes closed in frustration. “Marciana, I did not come all this way to argue with you. Be civil, girl.”

Maia raised her eyebrows in bemused silence, waiting.

“I came here to celebrate Whitsunday, of course. But there are other reasons. You may not believe me, child, but I have been advocating for you with your father. Yes, it is true. I have told him that I want you back at . . . at court.” She licked her lips, and Maia noticed her hands were trembling. Maeg’s song wafted through the air, concealing the sounds of their intense conversation.

Maia stared at her, waiting.

“Have you nothing to say to that?” Lady Deorwynn demanded, apparently perplexed by Maia’s lack of a joyous response.

“I am not certain I understand you.”

“Must we be so coy?” Her voice was low, almost a growl. “I have asked your father to . . . reinstate you. To compensate you with your mother’s dower lands. You are to be a lady again, Marciana, if you can yield to common sense.”

Maia’s brow wrinkled. “What must I do in return for this . . . honor?”

“You know what you must do,” Lady Deorwynn snapped angrily, her full lips curled back impatiently. “You must sign the Act of Submission. The papers of reinstatement have already been drawn up. The Privy Council has seen them. Marciana, you can leave Muirwood Abbey as a lady with lands, inheritance, servants . . . all will be restored to you. You must only sign the act. What say you?”