The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(73)

Collier stared at her, his expression grave. “So you must purge the barrel, High Seer?”

She pursed her lips. “If I do not, the entire barrel will be lost.”

He tapped his chin. “How do you purge a barrel that is guarded by a king?”

Sabine smiled, her expression deep and poignant. “You persuade the king of the danger.”

And Maia realized, in that moment, that her example was meant for Collier, not Kranmir.



Maia and Collier walked together, side by side, through the Cider Orchard. She used to think of him while wandering there with Suzenne and Dodd. Being with him alone was a strange and thrilling contrast. The limbs were weighed down by heavy clumps of fruit, the skins a pinkish red. Some were glossy and smooth, others blotchy and darker than others. Each tree showed a variety of colors—pale gray bark, vibrant green leaves, and fruit that varied in shade between yellow, pink, and red. Some of the trees had already begun to drop the fruit, and they found, scattered randomly, fallen apples.

Collier crouched to pick one up and cleaned it on his tunic.

“We grow grapes in Dahomey,” he said, examining the fruit critically. “I suppose I will have to get used to the taste of these.” He bit into it and made a face. “Rather tart,” he said, crunching it.

Maia looked for one that had blotches on it. “I have heard these are the sweetest,” she said, plucking one from its stem. The release caused the branch to tremble, and suddenly other apples started plopping down onto the grass. Collier held up his hand to deflect the hail of falling fruit and gave an exaggerated wince, making Maia laugh.

She studied the fruit in her hand, brought it to her nose to smell it, and then sank her teeth into the skin. It was delicious and made her mouth water for more. She had always heard of Muirwood apples, and now that she lived at the abbey, she could not get enough of them. Collier sat down and leaned back against the tree after giving a wary look to the branches.

“I am fearful now,” he said. “What if one falls right on my head?”

“Perhaps it would improve your good sense?” she replied archly, raising her eyebrows and making him smile. She knelt down on the grass next to him, smoothing out her skirts so she could sit.

“Apples and barrels and blight,” he said after taking another bite. “Sounds like a song that children would sing.” He sighed deeply, his expression growing darker as his eyes scanned the orchard.

Maia picked at the grass around her quietly, feeling the warmth of the breeze across her neck. She watched his mood become more somber, and she longed to know what he was thinking. “When you asked me to dance . . . was it . . . only to get revenge against Lady Deorwynn and Murer?”

His frown was replaced by a sly smile. “I will admit that I had many compelling motives,” he answered. “And I do not regret tweaking their noses. They have treated you unpardonably.”

Maia felt a flush of heat at his words. “What have you decided about me, Collier?” She risked a look directly into his eyes, though her fingers still plucked the grass.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Do you think . . . I am pretending to be who I am? I cannot say the word because of the binding sigil, but do you believe I am . . . that other person . . . still?”

The look he gave her was thoughtful. He shook his head no, and she felt a spasm of relief. “It would almost be easier for me if it were true,” he said ruefully. “I may not be as discerning as your grandmother . . . or perhaps I am more, depending on how you look at her choice of Ely Kranmir as Aldermaston. Truly, a duplicitous man . . . and no friend of yours, Maia, I can tell you that. When I was visiting your father’s court, I had my eye on him as someone not trustworthy. I thought he was just a vain relation of Lady Deorwynn, but I believe he would turn on even her if it benefited his ambitions. He and I are too much alike, I think. Does that not concern you?”

Maia shivered as the wind continued to caress her. “It does, if I am honest.”

Collier nodded gravely. “I am so confused, Maia,” he said, staring off into the orchard with a faraway look. “Your grandmother is . . . she is truly a special woman. I want to believe her, which conversely arouses my doubts and stubbornness! Would she truly have given away a king’s ransom with no thought or expectation of obedience? I would have gladly been in her debt instead of someone else’s, but she says I owe her nothing . . .” He shook his head in respectful wonder. “I am struggling to even comprehend that.”

Maia put her hand on his arm. “She is the kindest, wisest soul I have ever known,” she told him sincerely. “One of the oaths an Aldermaston makes is honesty. She cannot lie.”

He glanced down at her hand on his arm and then up to her face, hungrily. “Walk with me.”

“What?” She was a bit startled by the abrupt request.

“I cannot sit here with you like this. The temptation to kiss you right now is too great. Walk with me.” He rose from the trunk, leaving the half-eaten fruit on the ground, then reached down and took her hand to help her up. She left hers as well and took his hand. He did not release his grip as they began striding down the row of apple trees. His hand felt strangely comfortable in her own, and a bubbling lightness shot down to her knees and back up through her chest just from being so near him.

He sighed as they walked, occasionally ducking to pass beneath some of the branches because of his height. “I am tempted to kiss you,” he confessed, “because in my heart, I do not believe it will kill me. Yet if what you say is true, if what Sabine has said is true, then I have been deluding myself. I am chafing inside, wondering what would have happened if I had taken the maston test instead of abandoning it. What if I had pressed my father, while he was yet alive, to fight for you and to pressure your father to fulfill the plight troth of our infancy?” His hand squeezed hers with pent-up frustration. “I will admit, Maia, that I am tormented by many thoughts. If you were a . . . if you were evil by choice, our relationship would be less . . . tragic, in a sense. If your kiss does indeed bring death, and I am your husband, then how can I ever kiss you without coming to harm? I want so much for that to be wrong. You were tricked, unfairly, into becoming this thing. Why should you bear such awful consequences?”