He looked down at the floor. The vessel was rocking more violently now. There was a sudden dip and Maia felt herself flung out of the chair. They collided together, which startled them both, and Maia flushed with embarrassment. Once the initial surprise had passed, she started laughing, and he joined her.
“The sea is powerful,” Collier said, touching her waist to help her sit.
Maia found her seat again, still laughing at their forced embrace. She put a hand over her heart, feeling dizzy.
“I am almost afraid to tell you now,” Collier said, smiling. He reached out and took her shoulder, putting his hand on the brand. His touch sent feelings of blackness shooting through her heart. Her mind began to fog. Dizziness. Disorientation. Her heart sank and internally she screamed, No, not now! Not now!
“Collier,” she whispered, panting and trying to shrug his hand away, but he would not release her. His grip was firm, and she felt his touch draw out the creature inside her.
“Just one more thing, please. I must tell you. Maia, in all the tomes I have read about the Myriad Ones and the Dochte Mandar and the hetaera, even my ancestor’s tome, there is one thing they all agree on. One trait.” His grip on her shoulder tightened and she felt the mark burning, as if it had been set on fire. Fear and sickness battled in her stomach. She saw the edges of her vision begin to close, as if she were sinking into a dark hole. She clung on to the precipice of blackness.
No! No! Maia shrieked inside her mind. You cannot hurt him! You cannot have him! He is mine! He is my husband!
“What is it?” Collier asked. “You grow pale. Are you sick?”
Please no! Please not now! No!
She felt the power roil through her.
“Maia, do not betray me. Forget my other promises. I should have asked for this one first, but I was too afraid. The hetaera always betray those they love. Do not love me then. I could not bear it if you betrayed me . . .”
Maia heard his words in a garbled slur. Finally she managed to fling his hand off her burning shoulder, but it was too late. She was losing herself, slipping away bit by bit. Her mind was tumbling, like a cask falling down a hill after being jostled loose from a wagon. She could feel a sense of glee in her heart, a savage delight in seeing Collier so vulnerable.
With a last burst of energy, she clutched the front of his tunic, seized him violently, and pulled him close. His eyes were wide with frenzied fear.
“You must hit me. Now! Strike me hard, knock me unconscious. Bind and gag me. Please, Collier! I cannot hold her off. I beg you!”
“Her?” he whispered, trying to pull away from her. “Why would I—?”
“Please!” she said desperately. A powerful hand gripped her awareness and pried her mind loose from her body.
He is mine. The voice in her mind was exultant.
No! I banish you! You cannot have him!
You cannot banish me. You are my daughter. Be still, little mouse. My will must be fulfilled.
“Please,” Maia groaned, her face twisting with anguish.
Blackness filled her.
Cruix Abbey has fallen. The Naestors have assembled a fleet of ships, an armada in one of the ports of Hautland, a city that will be built in the image of what Dochte Abbey was in my day, a city on an island. What you must understand, great-granddaughter, is that the fleet has not been assembled to wage war on the kingdoms. The Naestors have learned about the land the Cruciger orb led us to—the land of Assinica. They have been spying on it and preparing to invade and destroy the mastons who were left behind. You see, not all the mastons returned to the seven kingdoms. A host remained behind to perpetuate the abbeys and sire the new kingdom we built to create a land of refuge, peace, and safety. By the time you read this in my tome, the mastons of Assinica will have forgotten the ways of war. They are peaceful and harmless and they will be enslaved and butchered by the Naestors if they are given their way. Ereshkigal will have her revenge. When your forefathers returned to Pry-Ree, Comoros, and Dahomey, they were to rebuild the abbeys and fulfill the Covenant of Muirwood. In order to fulfill it, the rites of the Apse Veil must be restored in Muirwood, and from there, to all the other abbeys. Because there have been no fully functioning abbeys in your realm for several generations, none of my progeny are strong enough in the Medium to cross the Apse Veil. Your generation will not have the ability. But look to your granddaughter. Look to save her when she comes to kill you.
—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kishion
The bed was soft, the brazier shimmered with heat, and Maia felt strong enough to sit. The shift beneath the servant’s gown was soaked with sweat and her hair felt sticky against her scalp. She looked down at the gray-green sleeve and examined the fabric of the cuff, her eyes coming in and out of focus. Her memories were jumbled. It felt like a dream. Was it one?