The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(30)

When she reached the tower, she turned to face her escort. “Wait for me here if you must, but I would prefer that you retire for the night. It has been a long and busy day.”

“We will wait,” said one of the men without affection or warmth. The two positioned themselves on either side of the doorway. Maia sighed and then started up the tower steps.

As she walked, memories flowed back to her in a rush. She grazed her fingers along the stone of the stairwell, recalling the many times she had intruded on Chancellor Walraven as a child. When she was little, this turret had seemed monstrous in its size and filled with mystery and wonder. It had been a refuge for her, a place where she had met with her mentor and learned to read. The ban on girls reading was a law she planned to remedy. All in its proper time.

The steps were steep, but she found the exercise invigorating, and after all, she had once made a habit of crossing mountains. She smiled wistfully as she took the steps one by one toward the chamber at the top.

The door to the chancellor’s office was open, and inside she saw her chancellor, Richard Syon, bent over a scroll at his desk. He still wore the gray cassock, but a ceremonial stole of his new office had been added to his attire. His hair was askew, reminding her of the lateness of the hour and also of her old friend Walraven. There was an inviting scent in the room, which made her pause at the threshold, and then she noticed the tied clumps of purple mint hanging from racks on the walls. There were other subtle changes as well—vases of flowers, a small basket filled with Muirwood apples, a warm blanket folded on the window seat where, as a child, she had enjoyed sitting and gazing out at the city.

“Your Highness,” Richard said with surprise in his voice. “If you wished to see me, I would have come to you willingly. It is your right to summon me.”

Maia smiled and entered the chamber. “I have many memories of this tower,” she answered, walking up and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I am also younger than you, Aldermaston, and more accustomed to climbing stairs.”

He gave her a knowing look, his penetrating eyes meeting her own. Turning in the chair, he clasped his hands over his girth and waited for her to speak.

Maia saw a small sculpture of Muirwood Abbey on the desk and wandered over for a closer look. “This is amazing,” she said, admiring the intricate craftsmanship.

“Joanna is thoughtful,” he replied, his voice full of endearment. “She knows I love the mint, the apples—the things that remind me of home when I am here.” He smiled with obvious tenderness.

“She is at Augustin tonight?” Maia asked, and Richard nodded.

“It is getting late, Maia. I had assumed you had crossed the Apse Veil to Muirwood already. Truly, I would have come if you had called for me. I have several reports if you would hear them before the Privy Council meeting tomorrow?”

She nodded and went over to the window seat and sat down.

“First, Lady Shilton has asked for custody of her grandchildren—Murer, Jolecia, Edmon, and little Brannon. They have all been traumatized by the events of these past weeks, and the grandmother seems to be the right person to care for them. Do you have any objections?”

“None at all,” Maia replied. Though she never wished to return to that manor house again. It held too many dark memories.

Richard turned to the desk and fetched a parchment from a stack. His countenance rarely showed displeasure, so Maia was alarmed by his scowl. “Ely Kranmir,” he explained.

Maia let out her breath. “What news?”

“There are several reports now. He is traveling from abbey to abbey, trying to denounce you and repeating his claim that he is the new High Seer.” His jaw clenched slightly, then relaxed. “I fear the Medium may punish him for such an affront. He may be winding his way north to seek refuge with the renegades there. He had much to gain from your father’s rise to power . . . and much to lose. The reports I have received say he is maligning your reputation as much as he can.”

Maia pressed her lips together. The memory of how he had insisted on examining her and Suzenne still rankled. “Is all the news this cheery, Richard?”

“I am afraid so.” He tossed that one down and drew another. “This one is from Willem Bend, the court physician.”

“I know him,” Maia said. He had examined her after she was poisoned at Lady Shilton’s manor, and had reported the incident to her father.

“He is a trustworthy man,” Richard said, scratching his earlobe. “Let me summarize it for you. Your father’s lips and stomach revealed the presence of poison. Doctor Bend believes the poison used was strychnos nux. It was a painful, slow death. In essence, he was strangled by convulsions.”

A chill shot down to Maia’s very bones as the words were spoken. She blinked back tears, unable to help imagining her father twitching on the ground, trying to breathe. In spite of what he’d done to her—what he’d been willing to do—the thought horrified her and made her cold and nauseous.

“That is terrible,” she whispered, choking on her words.

Richard nodded compassionately. “It is clear he was murdered, Maia. The kishion admitted it to you, so I think there can be no doubt as to why. As we both know, you would not have survived if he had stayed his hand. It seems, from the witnesses’ statements I have read today, that once your father passed orders to execute you, the kishion infiltrated his personal chambers and poisoned his wine cup. He has been impersonating the king’s headsman for several executions, including Lady Deorwynn’s and, fortunately, your own. I do not believe he means you harm, but it pains me that we have still been unable to locate him. The hunt continues.”