The Banished of Muirwood(113)

Maia stared into his pleading eyes. He was desperate to save his kingdom from falling into the hands of the Dochte Mandar. If she accepted this quest, would she gain the advantage she sought? Would she finally be allowed to study at an abbey and face the maston test?

“When I return,” Maia had said forcefully. “Father, when I return, will you allow me to study at an abbey? Will you please allow it?”

His look hardened, but he did not release her shoulders. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “You seek to be a maston?” He coughed a chuckle. She could see the look in his eyes, the disdain of a man who had broken every vow.

Maia knew what would happen next. She knew what she was going to say. There was one abbey she longed to visit, the abbey where her mother was banished. Muirwood Abbey.

A dream, it is a dream! This was a trick, a deceit. She clenched her teeth together. A force bubbled up inside her and a spike of anger and rage seared her mind. She had to save Collier. She had to wake up.

Say it! Say it!

“No!” Maia shouted.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE



Assinica

It was like cracking a mirror.

The shattered slivers slid away from Maia’s mind and she could finally see again, breathe again, feel again. She was awake, fully alert, and herself, and she discovered that she was walking down a corridor on a velvet rug with golden tassels on the fringe, surrounded by Dochte Mandar. The air was heavy with the scent of an ancient incense. Leerings lit the corridor, several different kinds, each resting on a plinth of marble. The men who surrounded her were armed with swords fixed with rubies in the pommels, but they were not guarding her. She was being escorted in a royal manner, Corriveaux at her side, her golden dress making a gentle whispering sound as it dragged along the carpet.

“Excuse me?” Corriveaux said, his eyebrows knotting in confusion. “You mean you wish to delay the coronation? It was my understanding that the titles would be vested immediately upon your arrival in Naess. Word must go out before the storms of the season begin and communication ends with the other kingdoms.”

Maia had no idea what he was talking about. She had no context for his words, but she realized that the being inside of her had been fully participating in the discussion just moments before.

He put his hand on her shoulder, her left shoulder, to help brace her. As soon as his palm pressed the mark, fire seared from the brand and her mind began to blacken again.

She shook off his touch and halted, her head swimming. “I need to sit down,” she said with rising panic in her voice.

“Of course,” Corriveaux offered. “Your suite is this way. I had hoped for people to see you in the audience chamber. It will get tongues wagging if we delay the coronation, of course. Do you need some refreshment? I can have wine or cider brought . . . ?”

Maia shook her head forcefully. “The suite. Please.” The sides of her vision were fraying, sloughing off like ashes from a smoking log. She pressed her mouth, her stomach suddenly nauseous, and followed Corriveaux as he escorted her down another branch of the hallway.

The walls were all made of dark-stained wood. The edges had been carved and polished into strange rune-like patterns that she had never seen before. The door handles were forged of polished silver, each one meticulously crafted by master metalsmiths, the edges supple and curved and designed with the symbols of serpents. They walked for a brief while longer and Maia struggled to control her thoughts, to keep her mind her own.

Leave me be! she ordered in her mind.

We are bound together, daughter. We share one flesh. I have great need of you.

“Here we are,” Corriveaux said unctuously. He fit a key into the door and twisted the lock. Then he motioned for the escort to remain where they were in the hall.

She glanced at him, at his polished boots, his trim black vest with a golden collar embedded with an absolutely massive sapphire. A frilly white ruff was at his throat, and his beard had been neatly cropped and trimmed. He gestured for Maia to enter.

“After you, Empress Marciana.”

She looked at him sternly, her eyes flashing, her heart pounding in her chest, and then walked into the room. What was she going to do? It felt as if she were on a runaway boat with no oars. She could only clutch the edges and endure the ride through the rapids.

The room was easily twice her height and there was a magnificent dome in the center, supported by enormous wooden stays. There were three hearths, and Corriveaux used his kystrel to light the Leerings inside each of them. The elegant polished table in the center of the room had huge squat legs carved like pillars. It could easily sit sixteen, and was surrounded by gilded chairs. Near the windows was a huge canopied bed—monstrous in size, and covered with heavy veils and trappings—as well as chests, pedestals topped with fruit and flowers, hooks and pegs, and enormous rugs and blankets.