The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(68)

Maia stared at him in surprise. “No,” she answered, feeling strangely guilty and relieved. “I do not have a kystrel. Though I bear the marks of the hetaera, I am not one.” She looked at him pointedly. “This was not the case . . . when we first met.”

“Yah!” he said, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm. He gestured toward a bench in the park, and they sat down next to each other. She was aware of the eyes of all the bystanders watching them. They were not close enough to overhear what was said between her and the prince, but they could witness everything. She was grateful for that.

“So you knew?” Maia asked, looking at him worriedly.

“Yah,” he replied, nodding vigorously. “You said . . . I save you. You said . . . take to Rostick. I did. I knew . . . vhat you verr. But you took me . . .” He clustered his fingers together and then tapped his own chest. “Here. You took my hurt. My heart. So difficult. I will keep trying. When you fell sleeping . . . I saw no kystrel. Medium said . . . help you. Get help. I vent to find Aldermaston of Rostick. You verr gone when ve returned. Rope of sheets . . . hanging from vindow. Ve searched for you. Vanted to help you.” His pronunciation deteriorated as he tried eagerly to get out the long-withheld words.

Maia felt a prick of tenderness in her heart at his story. She had wondered why she had awoken in a locked bedroom rather than a prison cell. She had no memory of that night or of what she had said to Prince Oderick. His face was familiar to her, but it was as if she had seen it only through a sleepy fog.

“Help you,” Prince Oderick continued, taking her hands with his. “The Victus . . . they threaten my people as vell. Cannot fight them . . . alone. They gather ships . . . many ships. An armada to destroy Comoros. They wish to bring the Void.” He shook his head firmly. “Fight them together. You and I.” He began bobbing his head excitedly. “Maston and maston. Queen and prince. You and I!”

He looked at her imploringly, and Maia felt her heart throb with sympathy. She pulled her hands away from his. “No,” she answered, shaking her head. “No, I cannot.”

He stared at her seriously, as if deciphering her words. “Dahomey,” he said. “You love . . . Gideon of Dahomey.” He stifled a chuckle. “Handsome. Proud.” He shook his head with determination. “Not for you. Many vimen. Many, many vimen.”

“Women?” Maia asked.

“Yah. Wimen. Not for you. Not maston. Puny kingdom. Not like Hautland. Ve crush Dahomey like . . . fig. Comoros strong. Hautland strong. Good match.” His attempt to persuade her made his words more choppy and curt. He snapped his fingers a few times. “Dochte Mandar annulled marriage. Not your husband. You are free.”

Maia felt the pain of the moment keenly and knew she needed to end their conversation at once. “But my heart is not free,” she answered and started to rise.

“No, no, no!” he implored, seizing her hands and pulling her down again. “Ach, dizeng!” he muttered under his breath. “More thing! More thing.” He begged her with his eyes to stay. “I study tomes. Tomes . . . yah?”

Maia looked at him in confusion. “The maston tomes?”

“Yah!” he said, bobbing his head. He moved closer to her. “Zurit. Ach, no . . . pardon. Kiss. Maston tome say kiss of hetaera . . . umm . . . poison. Yah?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding in agreement. “What do you mean? You have a tome that speaks of it?”

Prince Oderick nodded vigorously. “Yah! Tome says there is cure.”

Maia stared at him in disbelief. “No, there is no cure,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, no! Tome says cure! Hetaera forsakes kystrel. Cure. You give up kystrel. Cure.”

A wrenching feeling twisted Maia’s heart within her chest. “No,” she said, shaking her head. How could she explain to him that she had spoken to Lia Demont herself, the woman who had put the curse on the hetaera’s Leering . . . and bound it by irrevocare sigil. The curse would last forever. “The tome is wrong,” Maia said, shaking her head. She looked over at Richard and gave him a miserable look, silently begging him to rescue her. He nodded and started to walk over to them.

“Not wrong!” Prince Oderick said vehemently. “Show you.”

Maia turned to look at him when his face suddenly collided with hers. He had released her hands, and he seized her neck as he pressed his lips to hers. She recoiled with utter horror and tried to shove him away, but his grip was strong.

She did not return the kiss.

It did not matter. The brand on her shoulder began to burn with fire, and she felt a tingling feeling pass from her lips into him as a Leering far distant was invoked.

Maia finally wrenched away from him and shoved him hard with her hands. “No!” she shouted, wiping his spittle from her mouth. He stared at her in confusion, a look of growing dread haunting his eyes as he touched his lips.

It was as if the kiss had burned him.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE




Captured





Maia stood from the bench, her eyes wild with accusation and horror. She wiped her mouth repeatedly, trying to understand what madness had driven him to kiss her. Richard Syon rushed to her side.

“He kissed me,” Maia said shakily as she took a step back, watching the bewilderment in Prince Oderick’s face. He seemed to be realizing that what he had done would have terrible consequences.