The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(26)

Maia sighed deeply, and was about to speak, when the main door creaked open. Turning, she noticed Collier pausing in the archway, watching them. He had a grim look on his face. A restless look.

She reached out her hand to him, inviting him closer.

Breaking his pose, he rushed to her side as if physically drawn there. Suzenne squeezed Maia’s hand and rose to leave, making room for him.

“Good morning, Gideon.” Sabine smiled at him, but he did not return her smile.

“What is it?” Maia asked, staring into his troubled eyes.

He gave a little bow to Sabine. “I did not expect to find you here, High Seer. You returned from Assinica?”

She nodded. “I did. The refugees have come.”

“I will have ships brought to Muirwood if any would like to settle in Dahomey.”

“That is kind of you. Your kingdom is already constrained in land. Your people would not give it up willingly.”

“They will if I persuade them,” he replied. “I must return soon. It . . . presses on me.” He looked at Maia, his gaze dark and brooding. “I heard you were up all night.”

Maia sighed. “I cannot sleep here. But I will return to Muirwood and get some rest. I plan to offer Richard Syon the role we discussed, and I would like to spend some time with the Assinicans.”

“A wise choice,” Collier said. He fidgeted, which was unusual for him, and looked as if he felt uncomfortable in his own skin.

“What is it?” Maia asked again, reaching out to touch his arm.

“You are not safe here,” he whispered curtly. “And though it is not what I want, the Medium tells me to leave you.” His jaw clenched and he stared down at the floor for a moment. “I have Simon inspecting the palace. There are secret doors and hidden passageways throughout. I am surprised the walls themselves do not crumble.” Collier scratched his neck. “The tunnels even lead to your chambers, Maia. You are not safe anywhere in this place.”

Maia stared at him. “I do not think he intends to harm me,” she said softly, for she knew he spoke of the kishion.

He pursed his lips. “Oh, I agree. But what does he intend after you become queen? He has brought down his fair share of rulers in this kingdom.”

“You are shrewd to be concerned,” Sabine said softly, her eyes narrowing. “Maia, the tomes describe people such as the kishion. The records are full of warning. When men hire other men to kill for power, it grieves the Medium. It cannot abide murder, especially when it is done so deliberately. When murderers are permitted to operate within a kingdom, it will always bring a Blight. The tomes warn of this. It will not be easy to . . . evict him.”

Maia looked down at the ground. “I do not believe he is working for hire, Grandmother. And he has saved my life more than once. I doubt the Victus—or anyone else, for that matter—control him anymore.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean?” she asked apprehensively.

Maia looked at them both, feeling at once confused and anguished. “I think he . . . cares for me.”





The sun lowered across the horizon, drawing shadows across the pathway ahead as Maia and Collier walked hand in hand down the steps leading into the palace gardens. It was a place where she had sought refuge more than once in her life. Large pots full of flowers and Leerings of various sizes and designs brightened the grounds.

“I prefer Muirwood,” Collier said, squeezing her hand. “That place has many tender memories. I am afraid my memory of your castle will always be of me wishing that wall would collapse so I could be the one to rescue you. I have to admit I am still bitterly jealous that it was the kishion who saved you.” His frown clashed with a smile, and he shook his head. “I am struggling to cope with it.”

Maia sighed, swinging his arm as they started down the path into the gardens. She smoothed some hair over her ear. “Do not be angry with him for saving me,” she chided.

“Not for saving you. I owe him a debt for that. But you are my wife, and it is my privilege to protect you. I would have gladly faced off against Schuyler and Trefew. Five at once, even. It would have been a feat for the minstrels.” There was some levity in his voice, but she could tell his own helplessness in the situation had left a wound.

“There is a little fountain over there,” Maia said, tugging on his hand. “Follow me.”

They passed a Leering with a sun-faced visage. She remembered brushing her hand against it on her last visit to the garden. The dusk of night had faded from the area around the light Leering in an instant. After walking a little farther, they reached the circular fountain with the fish Leering spouting water in the middle. The joyful pattering sound helped mask the tumult of the city noises beyond the wall.

She sat on the edge of the fountain’s stone railing, and Collier stared at the fish, a far-off look on his face.

“What is it?” Maia asked him.

“Another memory,” he said, then shook his head to brush it off. “You like this garden?”

She shrugged. “The last time I was here was the night my father summoned me to go to the lost abbey.” She clasped her hands together and pressed her thumbs against her lips. “We argued, of course. I came here afterward to think about what he had said. It was a strange night. That was right before I first set foot in your kingdom.” She put her hands down on the stone and looked up at him. “Before you deceived me.” She gave him a wry smile.