The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(66)

There it was. Lady Deorwynn sought to understand in advance what Maia intended to do. She was seeking a confidence, some sort of assurance so she could be prepared to face Maia’s father with an answer.

Maia stared at her with distaste. “Tell me, Lady Deorwynn. The new Aldermaston of Muirwood, the one my father has sent. He arrives today, I believe. He is related to you, is he not?”

“I am his niece,” Lady Deorwynn said icily. “What of it?”

Maia nodded. “If he is related to you, then I suppose his betrayal to the order makes sense.” She turned to leave. “I will sign nothing against my conscience.”

Lady Deorwynn clutched Maia’s sleeve. “I did not dismiss you!”

Maia stared down at the white tendons quivering beneath the flesh of Lady Deorwynn’s hand. There were rings on her fingers, emblems of power and authority. Gemstones worth thousands of marks, and glittering diamonds set into bold bands. Maia reflected that she had given up the promise of all that when she left Naess, as well as the doom of having a Myriad One trapped inside her for the rest of her life.

“By your leave then,” Maia said tonelessly, determined to remain unruffled.

“You are a terrible creature,” Lady Deorwynn whispered. “Your stubbornness will kill you. Your father will not relent on this matter, Maia. I know his intentions. He will tread down any who stand in his way. The Aldermaston of Muirwood or his wife. The High Seer of Pry-Ree. He will raze Tintern Abbey to the ground. Even you, child. Even you.” She flung Maia’s hand away harshly.

Maia rubbed her wrist slowly, but said nothing as she stepped back to her seat.

Feeling shame and anger stain her cheeks, she dared not look anyone in the eye, especially Collier. She rested her hands in her lap, feeling the weight of her emotions as a burden too heavy to bear.

It was Suzenne’s turn to play next, and Maia used the reprieve to calm her thoughts. The Aldermaston had worked with her for many months to that end. Emotions would dissipate and pass. He had encouraged her to feel them, label them, understand them, and even endure them. She could almost hear his wise counsel in her mind as she sat there quietly, hands folded in her lap, enduring the shame of the moment and trying to prepare herself for yet another, worse confrontation to come with her father.

When Suzenne finished her piece on the flute, Lady Deorwynn strode forward and lifted her voice above the applause.

“Do they not all play well, my lord?” she said to Collier, all hint of antagonism vanished.

“Your kingdom is well versed in music, Lady Deorwynn,” he said most graciously. “These young women have been putting their time to good use. But . . . there is one we have not heard from yet.”

Lady Deorwynn glanced at Maia, her face suddenly vengeful. “There is no need, my lord.” She gave Maia a look that clearly communicated she was no longer welcome in the room.

“Indulge me,” Collier said with a charming foreign lilt. “I will not be satisfied until I hear her play.”

Lady Deorwynn’s color changed, but she mastered herself and did a formal curtsy to the king. “If you insist.”

“I do insist,” Collier said grandly, taking Murer’s hand and squeezing it affectionately. He clapped his other hand on hers. “I have not heard Lady Murer play.”

Lady Deorwynn was shocked. “My . . . my daughter?” she asked tremulously.

Murer’s eyes widened with surprise and sudden terror. “My . . . my lord?”

Maia almost let a smile slip onto her lips. She stared at Collier, a sense of wonder blooming in her heart.

“Yes! What instrument do you play, my dear?” He chuckled and flatteringly teased, “Or should I ask . . . how many instruments, hmmm?”

Murer was dumbstruck. Her mouth parted, showing her teeth, but his request had rendered her speechless.

“She can play . . .” Lady Deorwynn struggled for an adequate answer. “She can play the flute . . . no, the lute. She can play the lute. Right, dearest?”

Lady Murer was pale with misery. She shook her head. “I have not played in . . . some time.”

“The lute,” Collier said, affecting an exaggerated disappointment. “I see. You do not love music then?”

“I love music!” Murer spluttered to reassure him, blinking rapidly.

“Perhaps you prefer to hear others play then. Very well . . .” He quickly stood and fetched the lute from the stand. He struck a few chords himself, his fingers plaintive against the strings. Then he started a little galliard, which was a fast-paced dancing song. His foot tapped as he played. Then he stopped, midchord, and handed the lute to Joanna, who had played earlier.

“If you would, please play again for Lady Murer,” he asked her, nodding respectfully. “You know the tune, yes?”

“I do, my lord,” she replied, and taking the lute from him, she started to strum the tune he had abruptly cut off.

“I understand in Comoros you have a quaint tradition,” Collier said, holding out his hands to Murer and smiling handsomely. “You dance around the maypole, correct? Even a lord may dance with a wretched on that night. Is that not so?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lady Deorwynn said through gritted teeth, her visage marred by her vengeful emotions.

“In Dahomey, we dance the galliard around the maypole,” he instructed, pulling Murer to her feet. “That has been the tradition. Do you know it?” he asked Murer politely, but with a subtle mocking tone, as if he were in doubt.