by Jeff Wheeler
She smiled, so grateful to be here with him after despairing of ever seeing him again, so warmed by his concern and affection. He brought her back down to the couch and sat beside her, holding her close. “Would that I had an army. Would that I had wings to fly over that wall. I could not get to you, Maia, and it nearly killed me. How did you escape?”
“The kishion freed me,” she answered, squeezing him hard. She felt grateful for what her protector had done, but it caused her deep concern that he was acting on his own. What would he do next? Who else would he kill? She suspected he had done it because of his feelings about her, which troubled her even more. Worry could come later, though, and she shoved the thought from her mind so she could savor her reunion with Collier.
She pulled back and grazed his cheek with her fingers. “But I believe the Medium was what truly saved me.”
“So do I,” he answered. He shook his head in amazement. “Poor Simon, I have not been patient. The castle was completely secured, and they were letting no one enter. The streets are rioting, Maia. People are demanding you. They are shouting for the king’s daughter to be their queen. Yes! They are chanting for you. They were going to depose your father, but word has gotten out that he died last night.”
Maia could hardly contain the feelings cascading through her—there was a sense of loss for her father, though that was tempered with relief, gratitude for her people’s support, and the solace of at last being in Collier’s arms. Tears pricked her eyes.
“When you were banished and your titles were stripped away, that was all they were allowed to call you. The king’s daughter. The people have watched your suffering, Maia. They have resented your father’s treatment of you. The mayor is even now rallying the citizens to rescue you and proclaim you queen throughout the land.”
Maia wrinkled her brow. “I do not even know him. Why is he so eager to help me?”
Collier smirked. “Because Simon and I told him that the king had abandoned the city to be destroyed by the armada. And then we told him of what had transpired in Muirwood. Believe me, people here have heard nothing of what happened on Whitsunday. Much of court is corrupt, but not all. They resented the king’s treatment of you and were ready to depose him even before they knew the truth.”
She shook her head, dazed. “They were truly ready to depose him?”
He nodded and grinned. “I told you before. The people cannot abide him. They resented his treatment of your mother, not to mention his attitude toward you. While there were no tears shed over Deorwynn’s execution, once word got out about your impending death, the people went mad with rage.”
“I told the king about your father’s fate and Crabwell’s grab for power,” Simon said. “There is chaos in the streets. I have reports that the Earl of Forshee has fled the city. Many of the other earls have left too. The army was divided and sent to different parts of the country to prepare for the invasion, leaving the heart of the kingdom unprotected.”
Maia nodded somberly. “What of my friends? I am worried about Suzenne and Dodd. Have they escaped? Were they harmed?”
Simon shrugged apologetically. “The outer wall has been breached, but the inner one is still under siege. We have no word from them or about them, but do not be hasty in your concern. Anyone seeking to win your favor would know to protect them. Do not give up hope.”
She was restless to hear news of her friends, but she realized it was inevitable for word to travel slowly amidst such tumult. Gathering Collier’s hands in hers, she entwined their fingers and gazed into his eyes. “What would you advise?” She looked at both men. “I confess, part of me longs to return to Muirwood and seek the Aldermaston’s counsel.”
Collier shook his head firmly. “This is not a moment to flinch, Maia. How can I put this gently? The Medium has delivered this kingdom into your hands. It is yours by right. It is yours by grace. It is yours.” He squeezed her hands. “And your people need you!”
Maia was shaking all over. It felt as if a great door was closing in her life and another even larger one was opening. The path ahead was vast and unpredictable. But her husband spoke true; she had been born for this. She understood the need to create calm immediately, to give her people hope.
How quickly her situation had changed. She had gone out into the greenyard expecting to be executed—she had even knelt before the block and bared her neck. Now, before the day was even done, the people in the streets were hailing her as their queen.
She felt a gentle murmur in her heart and realized that her destiny was just about to unfold.
To help protect Simon’s identity, Maia and Collier left his shop and met the lord mayor in a private room at a nearby inn.
The mayor of Comoros was a worldly man and a cunning one. He had dark hair with a speckling of gray and a small little stripe of beard just beneath his bottom lip. Neither tall nor short, neither heavy nor slight, he was swathed in costly court attire, jeweled doublets, and a fur-lined cape.
“Your Majesty,” he said with studied formality, bowing gracefully. “I have taken the liberty of sending for several gowns. The sheriff of Kellinge was only too quick to supply them, as well as jewels to match. I thought you might like a variety of colors and styles to choose from. If you are to ride through the city, you must look the part.”
He bowed once more with a flourish.
Moments later, several servants streamed into the room, carrying the costly gowns for her to see. Each one was sumptuous and clearly befitting someone of her station. Collier frowned at the majority of them and subtly gestured toward a green-and-gold Dahomeyjan style.
Maia shook her head. “No, my Lord Mayor. Justin,” she said more informally. “This was not planned or anticipated. I will ride without changing my attire.”
“But it is a servant’s gown,” he objected. “They will not even know who you are. My lady, I appreciate the gesture of humility—in fact, I honor you for it—but the people need to see you as their queen.”
“Thank you for the trouble you took in bringing these to me,” Maia said sincerely. “It was thoughtful of you to try to anticipate my needs. Thank you. But this you must understand.” She swallowed, trying to compose herself. In her mind, she could practically hear Corriveaux’s voice as he promised her gowns and jewels and courtiers and the envy of all. “I am not my father. I am his daughter. My mother spent her final years as queen living as a wretched in Muirwood. I myself have just passed the maston test at that abbey. Our kingdom is on the brink of civil war, but that is far from the only threat we face. We are also on the brink of an invasion by men who care nothing for the sanctity of lives—men who want only to crush us. This is not a time for pageantry or show. A queen serves her people. So it is best if I come in that guise. I have come to serve Comoros, not to rule it.”
The mayor stared at her as if she had uttered speech in a foreign language. When he glanced at Collier, she did too, and what she saw there was heartening—could his look be approving? Of course, if anyone would understand, her husband would. He knew all too well the benefit of a servant’s garb.
“Now, Justin,” she continued. “Thank you for providing a horse. I do need that. If I ride next to you, I think the people will understand who I am. You mentioned it would be best if we rode through town so that we could rally more supporters.”
“It is dangerous,” the mayor said, “but also unexpected. Your enemies will not have time to retaliate. The inner grounds of the castle are still locked down, but we now control the outer gates. As I suggested earlier, once we have ridden through town, we should assemble a host of citizens to follow you to Pent Tower. There you can command the castellan to open the gates to you. If he refuses, we lay siege. There are not enough provisions there to last more than a fortnight. But I know the castellan. If you come, I trust he will do his duty and open the gates. The people believe you are the rightful heir, despite the acts.”
“Very well,” Maia said. “Prepare the escort. We ride at once. I would like to ma
ke sure the castle is ours before sunset, if possible. Two of my dear friends are trapped inside, along with any number of other innocent victims. The chaos and looting must end swiftly. We face too many threats from the outside to be this divided within.”
“I cannot agree more,” the mayor said, mopping his brow with a silk kerchief from his pocket. He turned and left to make the final arrangements.
Maia turned to Collier. “Are you disappointed?”
He flashed her a small smile. “Whether you wear a servant’s gown or one made by a master tailor, you still look beautiful.” Collier took her to the corner of the room, where a chair sat in front of a table and mirror. “Your hair needs to be brushed. If I may?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded, giving him a private smile. Then she sat down in front of the mirror and gazed at her weary reflection. There were soot smudges above her cheeks.
Collier took a comb from the table and began to smooth out her long hair with expert hands, as he had done aboard the ship on their way to Naess. She was more comfortable with him now, but his touch made her shiver with pleasure and anticipation as his hands grazed the back of her neck.
“I wanted you to ride with us as well,” Maia said, looking at his deep blue eyes through the mirror’s reflection.
He shook his head. “Simon said it would be unwise, and I agree with him.”
Maia pursed her lips.
“Shall I explain?” he offered.
She nodded.
“The people love you. There is euphoria in the streets right now. Word is spreading quickly that you miraculously escaped your death at the tower and will ride through the city to claim your father’s throne. Simon’s people are helping to spread the word. All requests for evidence that your father still lives have been met with silence. Half the nobles, including Kranmir, fled the city, and many were robbed as they departed Ludgate.” He snorted to himself. “I will not comment on whether they deserved it. This is your moment, Maia. If the King of Dahomey rides beside you, then it will tarnish that moment. You did this, not I. It would not be wise to let people think that Dahomey manipulated your father’s death or put you on the throne.”
Maia stared at him. “A queen has never before ruled Comoros,” she whispered. “I will be the first.”
He nodded, teasing out some more strands of her hair with the comb. “Which is what makes it so interesting. The customs of your realm must change. Your struggles are just beginning. You have renegade earls who fear losing their possessions and estates. Men like Kord Schuyler, the Earl of Forshee. And Kranmir will do his utmost to rally the mastons against you. I imagine you will want to invest your friend’s husband with Schuyler’s title?”
The idea had never occurred to her—the notion of having that kind of power would take some adjustment, it seemed. “I suppose I can do that,” she said in an almost awed whisper.
Collier chuckled. “There are certain privileges that come with power, my dear. You can reward those who are loyal and faithful to you. That will show the people what you value and set the tone for their future behavior. Reward the mastons, and more nobles will choose to join the order.”
Maia nodded, smiling. “I will need a new chancellor as well.”
Collier tugged through a stubborn clump, easing the tangles out gently, and then continued to make long, smooth strokes. She sat patiently, enjoying this moment with him.
“That role is critical,” he said firmly. “It is someone you must absolutely trust. Your chancellor will act on your behalf. They will control who gets to speak with you and when. They will lead meetings in your absence and decide policy on your path. I kept my father’s chancellor when I became king. Integrity is paramount. He was a maston, and I knew that he would not use his power to reward himself or his friends. Do you have anyone in mind?”
Maia sighed and nodded. Their gazes met again in the mirror. “Richard Syon.”
He seemed startled but pleasantly so. “An Aldermaston?” he chuckled.
“Not just any Aldermaston. He has already shown himself to be a wise counselor, not to mention a patient and kindhearted man.” Maia also thought about his wife and her band of Ciphers. She smiled inwardly. She had not shared that secret with Collier yet—and indeed, it was not hers to share. “And he is the Aldermaston of Muirwood, the most ancient abbey of the realm.”
Collier nodded, and his eyes gleamed with approval. “I do not know of any precedent for it. He might reject the position. Or the High Seer might oppose your choice.” He winked at her.
“I shall have to ask my grandmother then,” Maia replied.
Collier finished combing her hair and gently played with some of the strands. He crouched behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder.
“And when shall we announce our marriage to the people?” she asked him, feeling her stomach ripple and thrill as she gazed at him.
“Give me a few months in Dahomey,” he whispered in her ear. “You have not yet been crowned Queen of Dahomey. I imagine you should be crowned by your own people first.”
She turned. “Without you by my side?”
He gave her a small smile. “Setting up a kingdom takes time, my love. And I have problems of my own.”
She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue.
“When I arrived in Comoros, Simon told me that Paeiz is preparing to invade Dahomey. They think I am penniless and that my future father-in-law is too tightfisted to help. They seek to enlarge their borders at the expense of mine. I think they will be a little surprised to find us more than capable of defending our borders.” He smirked at her, but then his face grew serious. “Thanks to your grandmother,” he added softly.
She turned in the chair so she could look him in the eye. “I do not want you to leave me.”
“It will not be for long,” he promised, running his fingers down her cheek until they landed just below her forbidden lips.
A brisk knock sounded on the door, and then the mayor entered, beaming, noise from the streets outside streaming in from behind him. He looked at them askance, then grinned and winked, and bowed with a flourish.
“Your Majesty,” he said graciously. “As you can hear, the city is clamoring to see you.”
Collier crept his hand into hers, gave it a firm squeeze, and then let her go. She rose and followed the mayor to the front of the inn, where the cheers and shouts were growing louder and louder.
When she reached the door and shielded her eyes from the sun, she saw people on every cobblestone of the street, in every open window, on every roof. Everywhere there were raised caps and waving hands. A few of the escorts who would accompany her and the mayor were mounted, and she could tell they struggled to keep their horses calm in the sustained cacophony of noise.
When they saw her, it was like a rumble of thunder. The cheer deafened her.
I do not disagree that the maston tomes have gems of great wisdom contained therein. We can learn from anyone, even our enemies. Knowledge can be twisted into any shape. Did not one of the wisest men teach that the least initial deviation from the truth is multiplied later a thousandfold? That is the hallmark of the Victus. By small degrees are women wooed. By tiny corruptions will kings fall. I especially love the tome of Ovidius, who has taught all other men the art of telling lies skillfully.
—Corriveaux Tenir, Victus of Dahomey
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pardon
Maia rode a quivering stallion through the streets of Comoros to the deafening tumult of cheers and fanfare. The horse had blinders to keep it moving straight, but she could sense the beast’s nervousness, which rivaled her own. The mayor of Comoros rode at her side, waving gallantly to the crowds who had assembled en masse to see her. Everywhere there were men and women with tears streaming down their filthy faces, people shouting for her to go forth and claim the crown long denied to her.
It was a moment she would never forget.
She had been prepared to die for her convictions, but
now she realized it might require more courage to live for them. So many lives were in her hands, and she could not fail them. The streets were clogged with mud and debris, but it did little to stop the people who were gathering around the cavalcade, or to cool their ardor. She was the first female heir of Comoros, with no legitimate brothers to rival her for the power of the throne. In the distant past, one female heir had attempted to take the queendom and failed, sparking a civil war that had lasted nearly a generation.
Someone from the crowd rushed up to hand her a flower, but the person was rebuffed by one of her escorts who surrounded them on foot, each of them carrying poleaxes to keep the crowd from engulfing them. The lady was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved away.
Without pausing to consider her actions, Maia tugged on the reins and halted her nervous mount. “Bring me that woman’s flower,” she said in a firm tone of command. The closest soldier gazed at her in confusion for a moment, as if to gauge her sincerity, but then strained against the crowd to make his way to the older woman. When he returned to Maia, he presented her with the flower. She took it in one hand, still clenching the reins in her other, and nodded her thanks to the woman, who stared at her with dumbstruck gratitude. Another cheer went up from the crowd as those nearby realized what she had done. She tapped the flanks of her horse with her boots and pressed on amidst the noise and confusion.
The people wanted more than to see her wearing a humble servant’s gown and riding a cream-colored stallion. They wanted to touch her, speak to her, and know her.
All that would come with time. Maia had no intention of sequestering herself away in the castle once it had been seized. She would first seek out Suzenne and Dodd and ensure they were safe. There was a nervous pit in her stomach that would not be moved until she saw them again.