The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(74)
Maia listened, both her heart and throat constricting with his words, which mirrored the anguished thoughts in her own mind. She tried to focus instead on the feeling of his hand and on matching his languid gait. She wanted desperately to comfort him, but the futility of their predicament pressed in on her just as it did on him.
“I want it to be wrong,” he said again, breathing heavily. “I have taught myself to believe that the maston order is nothing more than a fusty tradition from our ancestors. One used to keep us from doing what we please. There is ample evidence of this. Yet . . . but yet . . . what if I have been wrong?” He laughed bitterly. “I can comprehend why Kranmir looked so angry. How can I judge the man when I have suffered the same blindness, but not for so long? He has convinced himself he is right. But that does not make him right.”
“There is a quote in the tomes,” Maia said, her voice low. “Ovidius said we are slow to believe that which, if believed, would hurt our feelings.”
“I do not remember that one,” he said, chuckling. “How true it is, though. What I struggle with, Maia, is the lack of proof. The Medium responds to kystrels just as it responds to mastons. One order says it is wickedness to force the Medium. The other says it is foolish to curb your desires when both aims produce the same results. You have convinced me that you intend to become a maston, that your duty is to stay and open the Apse Veil. But Maia . . . can you tell me how long that will take?”
Maia shook her head sadly.
“I cannot remain here,” he said disconsolately. “This is not my kingdom. And I imagine your father will be incensed to learn that I have married his daughter without his permission. I cannot trust his hospitality, though he believes I have no coin left for him to plunder. My intention, you know,” he whispered conspiratorially, “was to negotiate for lands, titles, and an earldom if I were to marry his daughter. Then I was going to spring the trap and tell him that I had already married you.” He clucked his tongue. “Shaming Deorwynn like that was a small price to pay, however. And I will still get an earldom from this. Watch me.” He winked at her, some of his good humor returning.
Maia could not help but smile. She looked up at his face. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
She grew very serious in that moment, not used to exposing this particular vulnerability. “Thank you for defending me in that room. It has been a long time since anyone has protected me.”
His eyes grew soft as he reached out and trailed his finger down her cheek. “You are most welcome.” He sighed in frustration. “I am tempting myself again. We had better keep walking.” They started once more.
“I also regret what happened to me at the lost abbey,” Maia said miserably. “Every part of me wishes it could be undone. I . . . I . . . would understand if you . . . as a husband . . . considering the restrictions”—she swallowed, almost too afraid to say the words—“if you decided to leave me. But I hope you do not.”
He looked at her with startled surprise. Then he shook his head slowly. “You rouse my sympathies, Maia. You are most beautiful. Also modest, to a fault. A compassionate young woman, and so wise . . . well, compared to me. Not being able to kiss you . . . well . . . I would be lying if I said it was not a bitter disappointment to me. I am not certain how to endure it . . . but . . . patiently, I suppose.”
She ached inside at his words, and the two walked in silence for a while.
“What if your father is not persuaded by Sabine’s arguments? What if he does not want to cleanse the barrel? Believe me, the barrel is disgustingly putrid. You cannot be at court for long without smelling the rot.”
“How so? I have not been to court in years.”
“It would offend your sensibilities,” he said enigmatically.
“Tell me, Collier. I am not as innocent as you think. It will sadden me, that is all.”
He shrugged and squeezed her hand almost comfortingly as they walked. “Your father has a new mistress, and she is your age. Lady Deorwynn is as sour as milk about it, you can imagine. Yet how she can be surprised is beyond me, since she—as a lady—in-waiting—stole your father from your mother first.”
Maia felt the pangs of sorrow. “You mean Jayn Sexton?”
He nodded. “So you had heard of her.”
“She is Suzenne’s friend. They were companions.”
“Ah, that make sense. The court is all aflutter with rumors that the king plans to marry her after Whitsunday. Kranmir has already agreed to do it, assuming the chancellor can get Deorwynn out of the way. It is a messy business, Maia. The court reeks of intrigue.” Collier pursed his lips and gave her a hard look. “Your father is truly depraved, Maia. I can not understand why you refuse my help with this situation. You even made me promise not to intervene! Sadly, Maia, your wisdom has failed you in this matter. Your father will kill you if you do not conform to his accursed plans.”
“He is still my father,” she replied weakly.
“By the Blood, how can you be so loyal to him?” Collier demanded. “Brannon has done nothing but injure you, humiliate you, torture you. He hired a kishion to be your protector! What does that say about him?”
She stopped walking, feeling the conflict burn inside her. She gazed down at their entwined hands, struggling for the words to make Collier understand, yet knowing no simple way to explain such a tangled mess of a relationship. “Because I remember how my father was. I cannot forget that. Back when he and my mother were friends . . . well . . . they were like this,” she said, gazing up at his eyes, squeezing his hand so hard it would hurt. “Their marriage . . . broke. Like a porcelain dish. But I can still remember what it was like. And I believe he can come back. He can remember his maston oaths, he can remember what he has lost. I must hope, Collier.”