The Banished of Muirwood(18)

His face twisted with unsuppressed rage, and he strode up to her quickly. “Do not speak to me thus!” he spit at her. “You are my child and you owe me your allegiance and your obedience. You need not fling my oaths in my face. I know what I am doing. It is the only way to preserve our kingdom. You are a child. You cannot understand the ways of men and women.”

“I may be young, but this is wrong, Father! Surely you realize that. What offense have we committed to earn such a punishment? Is it just? A wife may be put away for adultery, but surely it is you who have—”

The look of rage on his face brought blind terror into her mind. He struck her across the mouth, a stinging slap that silenced her words and rocked her backward. “You will be silent!” he threatened her, his voice wavering with emotion. “You watch your tongue and guard your speech. I will not listen to such talk from my own flesh and blood. Be still!” He loomed over her, and Maia felt the stinging pain on her cheek and the flavor of blood in her mouth. Her knees trembled so hard she was afraid she would crumple onto the floor, but she held firm. She stared up at her father with loathing, her eyes dry.

His eyes were on fire with fury. One of his fingers jabbed at her nose. “Let me be very clear, Daughter. You are henceforth banished from my household. You are no longer my natural child. I have forsaken my maston oaths and no longer wear the chaen. I say it clearly so that there can be no misunderstanding between us. I do not believe in the benevolence of the Medium. It is real, I know that. But it is cruel and vicious too.” He spread his arms wide, as if daring her to contradict him. “But you will say nothing of this to anyone else. For the preservation of this kingdom, for the sake of the people, I will pretend as though I am faithful to the order. I will not persecute mastons or halt the rebuilding of the abbeys. I will fulfill my duty to complete them and reinstate the full rites. But I cannot remain bound to your mother, whom I hate with every bit of loathing and rancor you can possibly imagine. I cannot bear to even look at her, which is why I have sent her far away.”

Maia’s eyes widened with defiance. “Very well, then send me to my mother,” she demanded. “If I am to be banished, I would go to her. To Muirwood.”

Her father shook his head. “Oh no, I dare not let you go. Even if your eyes continue to accuse me. You are far too valuable a prize for my enemies. Those who pursue your mother’s interests will be disinherited, and their lands will be forfeited. But anyone seeking to abduct and control you will be guilty of treason. You will stay here in Comoros.” His look was grave and stony. “You are banished here, Maia. To Pent Tower.”

“May I see my mother first?” Maia whispered, her throat too tight to speak.

“In time. Perhaps. If you are faithful to me. Now trouble me no more, child, until I call for you. Chancellor—escort her to the tower prepared for her.”





This you must always remember. The hunter is patient. The prey is careless. These are wise words from the man who trained me to survive many hardships.


—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey





CHAPTER SIX



The King’s Collier

As Maia regained consciousness, she was first aware of a strange new smell—a peculiar scent that clung to her clothes, her hair, even her skin. She struggled to open her eyes, and it was so dark she wondered for a moment if she had been blindfolded. Light stabbed her eyes from slits on her right and she twisted to try and determine the source. The boarhound, Argus, was resting against her back, its coarse fur a source of heat and warmth. The dog lifted its head when she moved and gave an exaggerated yawn, as if scolding her for sleeping so long.

“Awake. Finally.”

It was Jon Tayt’s voice, gruff in the shadows. She had not seen him there, but her eyes picked him out as they adjusted to the dimness. Her muscles were sluggish to respond when she struggled to move. She would not have felt any more spent had she swum upstream against a river. Still, she was aware enough to discern that she was in a small stone cave, and to hear the wind keening outside. There was no sign of the kishion, and that concerned her.

Maia sat up and grazed her head against the ceiling of the cave. As she did so, she realized she had been sleeping on a strange pallet. Instead of straw, the ground was covered in strange green leaves dusted with fuzz. It was the source of the peculiar smell.

“What is this?” Maia asked, bringing one of the crushed leaves to her nose. It reminded her of mint, but it was different somehow.

“I call it mule’s ear,” the hunter replied. “See the shape? It grows wild up here on this side of the mountain. Good for bedding down on.”