The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(75)
He stared at her pityingly. The look in his eyes said he shared none of that hope with her.
“You will not face him alone,” Collier said, shaking his head. “Your father has a rash temper. I have witnessed it. If I am standing next to you, he will watch himself. But clearly you should only confront him on the abbey grounds. He has no legal authority here . . . yet. Once he has taken over the abbeys, you may be cast out of here. Then you will come with me to Dahomey. We will open the Apse Veil from another abbey if we must.”
Maia shook her head obstinately. “It must be here. This is where the Covenant was made.”
“Then perhaps the Medium will give me the evidence I have long desired to see. I will stand by you, Maia, as long as I can. Maybe until one of us is proved wrong.”
Maia looked at him, feeling at once comforted and confused. “Tell me about your plans.”
He looked away grimly. “You proceed as you think best, Maia . . . and let me do the same. I do not believe the Medium will come and strike down Kranmir or your father. A beautiful orchard can still be razed with axes. And an abbey that has only just been reconstructed can still be burned to the ground. However, I do not think that is Brannon’s intent. He wants coin. And power and youth.” He looked at her challengingly. “The Medium will not intervene in this. It gives us what we desire, even to our detriment. My own maston father was the captive of the Paeizian king . . . where was the Medium then? The Medium was on the winning side, as it always is.”
Maia bit back her retort when she heard someone calling her name. Recognizing Owen Page’s voice, she called out to him, and he joined them in the grove, shrouded by the swelling fruit.
“The Aldermaston bid me to find you both,” he said breathlessly. “The king has arrived.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The King’s Will
By the time Maia and Collier reached the council chamber, it was already crowded. Davi and Aloia, the kitchen maidens, were hurrying to place more dishes of treats on the serving tables, and many attendees had gathered around to try the delights the cook had made in preparation for the Whitsunday festival. The smell of cider filled the air, and crumbs pattered on the floor rushes like rain. Maia quickly surveyed those in attendance, recognizing most of them. And there he was, talking with the Earl of Forshee, Chancellor Crabwell, and Captain Carew over by the cider cups. As soon as she saw her father, her heart flinched. She had not seen him since that dark night he had sent her away to Dahomey to find the lost abbey. He was heavier now—his cheeks fuller, his chest bigger—and there were streaks of white in his beard. He wore a plumed velvet hat fitted with an eye-catching feather. Glittering rings bedecked both of his hands. He was deep in conversation with Carew, and had not seen her enter the room.
Collier’s grip tightened on her arm, and he led her over to where the Aldermaston, his wife, and Sabine were standing, conferring with the abbey’s steward, Tomas. The tall steward smiled at her, dimples flashing, but she could tell he was agitated. Sabine nodded to Maia, giving her a steady smile—as if she were steeling herself before entering an arena.
Lady Deorwynn and Murer were there, Maia noticed, huddled in a corner with Aldermaston Kranmir, speaking in hushed tones. Though Lady Deorwynn was pale, her eyes flamed with rage when she noticed Maia and Collier. She motioned toward them, her mouth twisting spitefully as she said something to her uncle. Murer just gave an injured sniff and looked determinedly away from the couple.
There were other onlookers as well, people from court who had come with the king, most of them nobles of the realm. She recognized some of them as earls, but many were young and owed their power to her father’s beneficence. She saw Suzenne standing with an older couple who looked to be her parents. There was no sign of Dodd.
Maia was nervous and kept looking at her father, waiting for his gaze to fall on her. When it finally did, his smile melted away, and with a cool, cunning look, he appraised her from across the room. He thrust his goblet into Crabwell’s hand and then clapped his hands and strode into the center of the room. The gibbering and laughter subsided instantly.
“Well met, my friends,” he said in a loud, commanding voice. “It was a long and tedious journey, to be sure, but we have all arrived at Muirwood as planned. The inns are overcrowded, Richard. The roads are pure muck. This will need to be corrected before we next assemble here.”
There was a spattering of clapping, very subdued. Aldermaston Kranmir began to edge closer to where the king stood.
The king smiled and nodded as his gaze fell upon those gathered before him. “When I sent my heralds to announce we would be celebrating Whitsunday at Muirwood, I had not expected certain illustrious guests. Sabine—it is our pleasure and honor to welcome you to Comoros.” He dipped his head formally. “If I had known you were coming, I would have prepared a more festive welcome.”
Sabine nodded respectfully to him. “I have never been disappointed in the hospitality I have received here. Simple fare is to my liking.”
“Ah yes, but not to mine. Thankfully I warned Richard’s cook I was coming! Here we are, assembled together before the formal celebrations tomorrow. I thought it might be . . . fitting if we had a little . . . conversation before. I should not like to have any more surprises thrust on me, eh, Gideon?”
He gave Collier a withering look, his expression subtly shifting from pleasure to anger.