The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(79)

“What is it?” the kishion asked her gruffly. “In a hurry to leave me?” He scowled, as if already regretting the choice of words.

“Thank you for watching over me,” Maia said, holding the gown in the crook of her arm and pausing before the changing screen. “It was not just a dream . . . but a vision of sorts. I must go to Dahomey. Right away.”

“What?” he asked with a perplexed chuckle.

Maia summoned light from the Leerings in the room, and they dispelled the gloom and shadows, revealing her private chambers. None of her ladies-in-waiting were present, since Suzenne had ordered them to move around to various chambers to protect them and conceal where Maia slept. She quickly removed the nightgown and then pulled on the other gown, trying to hurry for fear someone would enter and find her alone with the kishion.

“You must go,” she said, struggling to fit her hands through the sleeves. The impatience to be gone was frightening.

“You are not going to Dahomey,” he said angrily. “What was this dream? Tell me.”

Maia repressed the urge to scream at him and the gown in frustration. “It was not a dream, it was a vision. I was in a ship . . . no . . . I could see a ship heading to Dahomey. My stepsister was there.”

“Murer,” said the kishion knowingly.

Maia finished putting her arms in the sleeves, only to belatedly realize that the gown laced up in the back. She did the first of the lower strings, but she knew she could not finish it herself. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment; it galled her to her core to have to ask him for assistance.

She straightened the skirts and pulled the strings as tight as she could manage. Gritting her teeth, she rested her head on the wooden frame of the changing screen.

“Can you . . . help me?” she asked in a small, defeated voice.

He had a quiet step, and she barely heard his boots on the floor, but he approached the screen.

“What is it?” he asked.

Maia sighed, smothering her pride, and stepped around so he could see her. “I cannot do the lacings . . . by myself,” she said. “I should have chosen another dress, but I was not thinking.”

He gave her a curious look. “For a moment, I thought you had discovered a tick and needed me to fetch a hot needle.” A low smile came to his mouth as he brought up their shared memory of the cursed shores. He shrugged as if it were no matter to help a queen with her gown and quickly cinched up the lacings and tied the string off deftly.

“So Murer is headed to Dahomey,” he said.

“I have to warn my husband,” Maia said, fidgeting.

“But he is not your husband,” he reminded her. “You fear his faithlessness so much? I am not surprised,” he added with a chuckle.

“I do not fear his faithfulness,” she said, perhaps too hotly. “But Murer is a hetaera . . . or nearly one. And she has my kystrel. That is why I connected with her so easily. It was like I was inside her mind.”

The kishion frowned. “Was she aware of you?”

Maia nodded, folding her arms over her chest to quell the heaving of her stomach.

“Then there is likely a trap waiting for you,” the kishion said. “They are luring you away.”

Maia stared at him, not wanting to believe what he said, but seeing the truth in it.

“You doubt me,” he said, snorting. “I am no Victus, Maia. But I have worked for them long enough. What does a fisherman use? Not just a hook. He uses bait. Corriveaux tried to murder you in person. Now that you have not complied with his will, he wants you out of the way. If he cannot come to you, then he will make you come to him.”

“But I can travel through the Apse Veil,” Maia said, growing angrier by the moment.

“And do you not suppose that they are watching the abbeys on that side as well?” He folded his arms and gave her an imperious look.

“I must at least send him a message,” Maia conceded, “with someone I can trust.”

The kishion nodded. “I knew you would think of it once you had calmed down. Good lass.”

She was about to storm to the door, but he caught her sleeve.

“Brush your hair first. You are a queen.”





There was so much to do that Maia did not have time to eat. The lord mayor announced the evacuation of Comoros that morning, and the plans they had formed over these last weeks were put in place immediately. The city would be abandoned quarter by quarter—those closest to the river first, followed by those on the outskirts. The city watch roamed the streets and manned the gates, helping the carts and wagons as they began to trundle toward Mendenhall castle, leagues away, where the citizens of Muirwood Hundred would be gathering before trekking into the Bearden Muir.

Sempringfall Abbey still stood, but reports had streamed in throughout the night confirming that Billerbeck had been razed and the armada had arrived. There was still no word from Dodd or his army. The Naestors had brought both horses and foot soldiers, and they had pillaged Forshee, driving the inhabitants from their homes in fear and terror. Refugees were arriving in hordes from the north, heading toward safer ground. Word had been sent to Augustin and Ceaster Abbeys in the south and west, warning them that the invasion had begun. Fishing boats were being used to ferry people from Caspur Hundred to Winterrowd, where they would walk on foot to Muirwood. The Earl of Caspur had sent word that his army stood ready for Maia’s orders. Should he come to the capital and help with the evacuation? Or defend the southern borders should the second attack arrive as predicted?