The Banished of Muirwood (24 page)

“Depart!” he croaked hoarsely.

Maia heard herself laugh. “You cannot banish one who is already banished. No man can tame
me
, Aldermaston.”

“The High Seer is a
woman
,” the Aldermaston said angrily. “The Dochte Mandar will bring you to Naess.”

There was another silver laugh. “I know. I intend them to. Foolish man. You thought a little gate and door could keep me out? We are many. We are one.” She began to chant the dirge from the tome.
“Och monde elles brir
.
Och cor shan arbir. Och aether undes pune. Dekem millia orior sidune.”

“No,” the Aldermaston groaned. “Please, no!”

“Och monde elles brir
.
Och cor shan arbir. Och aether undes pune. Dekem millia orior sidune.”

“No! I beg you, no!”

“Och monde elles brir
.
Och cor shan arbir. Och aether undes pune. Dekem millia orior sidune!”

Maia felt the waves of power crest inside her, a sensation that set her fingers tingling. She was still conscious, though her awareness had been shoved into a corner of her own mind. She struggled to regain control of her body, but it was like shoving one of those sea waves. There was nothing to push against.

Boots pounded down the corridor, and the door of the Aldermaston’s chamber flew open. He had sagged to his knees, one hand resting on the table, the other quivering as he tried to hold up the maston sign with his hand.

“Aldermaston!” someone shrieked. “The abbey! The abbey is burning!”

There has never been a time in which mastons have not been persecuted. There is a never-ending war, you see, between the mastons and the hetaera. The hetaera, whose order has prevailed and survived for many thousands of years, received a mortal wound in my generation, of which the monster must finally die. Yet so strong is her constitution, great-granddaughter, she may endure for centuries before she expires.

—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Princess of Comoros

T
here was a soft tap on her bedchamber door. Maia looked up from the window seat from which she had been watching the commotion in the bailey below. She rose and walked to the door and opened it. There was her chamberlain, Nicholas Creed, crushing his velvet cap in his hands. He looked miserable.

“What is it, Nicholas?” she asked with concern. “Is your wife well? Is it one of your children?”

“Lady Maia,” he said dejectedly. “I bring ill tidings.”

Maia’s face blanched. “Is my mother dead?”

“No! No, by the Blood, no!”

Maia sighed in relief.

She heard the sound of boot steps ascending the stairwell. “What is it, then, Nicholas?”

“I must let them take you away, Lady Maia. You are to be removed from the palace.”

Her heart started to wail in protest. “Where?” She seized his arm. “Am I being sent to Pent Tower?”

“It is not as bad as that.”

“You look so grave, Nicholas. There is more news you have not told me.”

He bit his bottom lip. “They will be here shortly to take you. I cannot spare the blow. Forgive me, Lady Maia, but this is none of my doing. Your lord father, the king, is sending you to be a lady-in-waiting to your stepsister, Lady Murer.” He cringed when he said this.

Maia stared at him in disbelief. “What do you say? Nicholas, I do not understand.”

He swallowed, scrunching the velvet cap even more. “Your father has signed an act naming Lady Deorwynn’s children as his legal and lawful heirs. He has declared Lady Murer Princess of Comoros. You are now . . .” He started to choke on the words. “You are now to be known as Lady Maia, the king’s daughter.”

“My father signed this?” she said in astonishment. “I am now considered his . . . his bastard?”

Nicholas Creed nodded miserably. “I am on assignment from His Majesty’s chamberlain. While you have been forbidden to wear your state gowns and such, you will now surrender
all
of your clothes, your badges, your dishes, your treasure. They will be given to Lady Murer. You will wait upon her at Hadfeld Manor.”

Maia’s legs trembled beneath her. “Hadfeld is the manor of Lady Deorwynn’s mother and father!”

“Yes. They are your masters now. You are forthwith forbidden to use the title of princess in any correspondence or to insinuate that title in any form, per your father’s command. Ladies Murer and Jolecia are acknowledged as the true princesses of the realm and their brothers as princes.”

She watched as the men reached the top of the stairs and began marching down the hall toward her.

“Who are these men?” Maia demanded.

“They are here to take your gowns and clothes, to prevent you from despoiling any. Including the one you are wearing.”

“But what am I to wear?” she asked in horror.

“A servant’s livery,” Nicholas said with sadness. “I am sorry, Lady Maia. I will not be your chamberlain any longer. You are to report to Hadfeld immediately to assume your new station.”

Her eyes burned. “Did you see my father’s orders? Did you see them yourself, Nicholas? Or was Lady Deorwynn the one who issued the command?”

“I heard it spoken by the king himself,” he said, nodding, and stepped away as the men began to push into her room. Some carried crates and wooden boxes. Her dwelling was small, so it did not take them long. She stood there stunned, watching as the men stuffed away her clothing and packed all of her limited possessions. It was like watching the theft of her memories. She covered her mouth, horror-struck, as her chamber was ransacked.

How could her father treat her in such a way? She had not seen him lately, due to his travels and hunting trips, but what had persuaded him to finally disavow her as his trueborn daughter? Her stomach cramped painfully and she worried she would be sick on the floor rushes.

Crates and chests were strapped shut and hefted out of the chamber. The pillows and tasseled blankets were stripped away. Soon she was staring at an empty room. One thought dominated all others: She had to see her father. She had to know if this was truly his will and not Lady Deorwynn’s manipulation. Had his heart been shut to her?

“Nicholas, you must help me,” she whispered.

“My lady, what can I do?” he said with anguish. “I am the king’s servant.”

“Yes, but can you deliver a message to him? Please, Nicholas!”

He shrugged helplessly. “It will not do any good, my lady.”

“Just tell him that I wish to see him. That I wish to plead my case to him.”

He fidgeted. “I will try. That is all that I can promise you. I am sorry, my lady. You deserve . . .” His voice trailed off. He did not trust himself to finish the sentiment.

A rough man walked up to her. “The gown too, lass. We were told to take it all.”

She stared at him. Though Nicholas had warned her, she was galled by this man’s effrontery. “You will take it from me by force?”

“If I must, lass. My orders are from the Lady Shilton. You are to appear before her in a servant’s smock. Off with the gown then.”

“No,” Maia countered. “I am the Princess of Comoros.”

Nicholas flinched. “My lady, that is in defiance of the king’s command.”

“You are the king’s
bastard
,” the man said with a smirk. “If you won’t give it over, then—”

He reached for her and she stepped hastily back. “Let me change, you villain! Unhand me!”

The kystrel grew warm against her skin as her heart simmered with fury. She had to calm herself. She fought against the surge of power billowing inside of her. If her eyes went silver, everyone would know. If they stripped the dress from her, they would see the kystrel around her neck, the small shadowstain on her chest beneath the chemise. If they saw that, she would be executed.

“Whatever your pleasure,” the man said dryly.

“Give her a moment of privacy!” Nicholas implored. “Please, can we be civil? Is someone fetching a servant’s gown? Ah, there it is. Bring it forward, man. Come on, hand it forth.” He clutched the fabric. It was gray with a hint of green. The collar and the sleeve edge had a design on it. That was the only finery to it. She stared at it, at the lack of color and fashion. Lady Deorwynn sought to complete her humiliation. Maia clenched her teeth and took the garment.

“Let me change,” she said stiffly. They relented and shut the door. Maia leaned back against it, battling the wrenching sensation in her stomach. She wanted to cry. Instead, she squeezed the fabric to her face, willing herself to be calm and steady. The gown smelled as stale and dusty as it looked.

Knowing these were not patient men, Maia quickly discarded her gown. Her mirror had been carried away already, so she could not even use it to change. She closed her eyes, struggling to master herself. There was a firm knock on the door.

“We have orders to present you straightaway!” came the rough man’s voice.

Maia pulled on the servant’s dress. It was too short, exposing too much of her ankles and wrists. It was tight across her chest. There were lacings in the back that she could not reach. But it covered the medallion and the shadowstain. She opened the door.

“Nicholas, can you help me?” she pleaded.

The rough man snatched her fallen gown from the floor with a grunt and stuffed it under his arm.

Nicholas frowned and nodded, and he helped tie up the lacings in the back with clumsy fingers. Maia felt humiliated and angry, but she kept control of her expression. When he was done, she thanked him.

She stared at her room one last time, missing it already and feeling strange and uncomfortable in her new dress. Nicholas escorted her down the stairs to the bailey, where the men had assembled to escort her to Hadfeld. She recognized one of them as the new Earl of Forshee—Kord Schuyler. The previous one had been stripped of his title and sent to Pent Tower with all of his sons, save one. He had been given the title for one simple reason. He fawned over her father and did whatever he was asked to do. She would get no sympathy from him.

The new Earl of Forshee was a large man with a hooked nose and iron-gray hair. As he stooped from the saddle and looked at her without compassion, he smiled. “Are you ready to pay your respects to Princess Murer, Lady Maia?” he asked condescendingly, his mouth twitching with a smile.

She stared up at him, her eyes like daggers. “I know of no other princess in Comoros except for myself. The daughters of Lady Deorwynn have no claim on such title.”

He looked delighted. “Well, we shall see how long your stubbornness lasts, lass. We shall see.”

Maia’s life at Hadfeld was intolerable.

Though her title was a lady-in-waiting, she was given the most horrible room in the manor house, a dormer room in the attic with a cracked window that let in the cold and no brazier for warmth. Lady Shilton refused to give her a gown that fit her better, so her wardrobe was limited to the one ill-fitting garment that had been tossed to her in her old bedroom. She discovered immediately that Lady Shilton had been ordered by her daughter, Lady Deorwynn, to humiliate Maia routinely. Her illegitimate station was rubbed in her face at every meal, at every encounter. She watched with resentment as Murer had Maia’s clothes altered and enhanced, having gems and jewels sewn into the bodice and trimming. The new princess treated Maia with disdain and ordered her about the manor, forcing her to do arduous chores meant to demean her.

The cold, chafing environment crushed Maia’s spirits, and she found herself frequently ill, with a persistent cough nagging in her throat. She knew no one at the manor cared for her. The other servants stayed away from her for fear of having their own work increased if they were caught assisting her or associating with her in any way.

Maia wondered if even the wretcheds at the abbeys were treated with more dignity. Her treatment during mealtimes was so horrible that she took to eating as much as she could during breakfast. Later, she would claim she was too ill to eat, and ask for bread and milk to be brought to her in the attic. This happened for several weeks until Lady Deorwynn heard of it. Thereafter she was forced to take all her meals in the hall, where her tormenters could continue to rail against her.

Maia refused to acknowledge her new station, however. She realized that her situation was an attempt to force her mother, who was still at Muirwood, to divorce her father. She was a game piece now in their rivalry, and no matter how much her father may have cared about her, she knew he would use her to achieve his ends. That he would stoop so low wounded her.

However, Maia did not use her title out loud, for when she did, Lady Shilton would immediately strike her face. Several stinging slaps had proved the point, so Maia refused to speak of it, but she also refused to deny her station, despite the others’ constant wheedling.

Part of Maia recognized that she was dreaming, that she had already lived through those miserable days in Lady Shilton’s manor. But she could not wake up. It felt as if she were on a small boat on a lazy river, being carried along its current. The dream was like a prison, forcing her to stay unconscious no matter how she tried to rouse herself, sucking her back into the nightmare of her time with the vicious Lady Deorwynn and her children.

The river of her dream seemed to speed up, and Maia recognized the moment it was leading to: her father’s visit to Hadfeld. After learning of it, she had wandered the manor with giddy excitement. If her father could only see her suffering, she knew his heart would soften, and he would summon her back to court. Her servant’s dress was torn and soot stained. They would not offer her a replacement or even a second gown, so she was forced to huddle beneath a blanket in only a shift after she washed it and it hung drying. She would do that at night, after the other servants had gone to bed, so she could use a fire Leering to dry it more quickly. If only her father could see her, he would end the cruel punishment aimed at his true wife, Maia’s mother.

When the horses arrived at Hadfeld, Maia found a window and watched, her excitement exploding inside her chest. But she was quickly snatched away by a groomsman and swept up to her room in the attic. The door was locked to keep her inside. She had pounded on the wood until her hands were bloody, furious that she would not be able to see her father during his visit. She paced the room, ears straining for footfalls on the steps. Surely he would summon her. Why else would he have come to Hadfeld?