The Ciphers of Muirwood (36 page)

The man forced her to turn and yanked the cowl back. He was unfamiliar to her, but he seemed to recognize her. “Ah, it is her,” he said, his teeth crooked. His breath was awful. “Crabwell thought you might come through Claredon and not the city gates.” He leered at her. “Welcome home to Comoros, Lady Maia.”

“Unhand her,” Dodd warned, gripping one of his throwing axes.

The man looked at him without concern. “You do not think the chancellor left us unprepared?” he mocked. “Gaze up at the roof, boy. See the crossbowmen? You pull your arm back to throw that little hatchet, and you’ll be a porcupine.”

Maia’s insides twisted with terror. “You are the chancellor’s men? I insist you bring us to him at once.”

He chuckled darkly. “Insists, she does? How polite. I always heard
the king’s daughter
was polite.”

Maia saw the circle of men ghosting from the crowd to surround them. None of them wore uniforms marking them as the chancellor’s men, but there were easily a dozen. Though his grip on her arm pained her, she did not let it show on her face. She gestured with her other hand for Dodd to lower his weapon.

The man smiled and nodded at her with a twisted smile. “Wise too. A good decision, lass. You probably do not recognize me, but I remember you. Name is Trefew. I was one of the ones who threw you out of court the last time. When you went to Lady Shilton’s manor.” He smiled again, his expression full of angles and seams. He stared at her, his eyes smoldering with threats. She remembered him at last—he had been commanded to rip the gown from her if she did not willingly change into a servant’s smock. “I have not forgotten you, lass. Now, the chancellor
would
like to see you. But his orders are to bring you immediately to Pent Tower. You are under arrest for treason as well.”

“Very well,” Maia said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Take me, and let these two go.”

Trefew pursed his lips and clucked. “Oh-ho now! That lad is a Price. Looks just like his
brothers
. And the flax-haired girl is too pretty to wander the streets alone. No, missy. We will all be going to the tower together.”

Keeping his hand locked on her arm, Trefew drew Maia toward the rear of the palace and Pent Tower. For years she had been terrified that her father would one day send her there. Her heart filled with dread as she marched toward that fate.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Deorwynn’s Fall

L
ady Deorwynn sat in the dank cell, shivering uncontrollably. Every noise startled her, every groan from her fellow prisoners in the ward made her twitch. She was terrified beyond her wits, and she dreaded the brightening of the dawn sky. It would be the dawn of her execution. Would it be possible, somehow, to suspend the brightening light by staring at it? She blinked feverishly, her stomach twisting with panic. At least her death would be quick. A whimper escaped her lips, and she could not refrain from shuddering.

Her daughters were also in Pent Tower, locked in a cell together. She had heard Jolecia shriek for hours until she fell into a fitful sleep. Murer was calmer. Murer was more like her; she hid a cunning mind behind the flirting smiles. Sometimes Lady Deorwynn regretted how much her daughter had learned from her, especially when she used those very stratagems against her. Lady Deorwynn clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a tremulous sob. She would not see her children again. Her young boys had been sent to one of her husband’s manors under guard. What would happen to them?

The groans outside turned into shouts for mercy and Lady Deorwynn lifted her head. Something had changed in the mood of the corridor. Soon she heard guards approaching, and her pulse quickened with the anticipation of what was to come.

The flirting and affairs had felt so trivial at the time. After all, everyone in court was engaged in it. Her own husband’s acts were much more depraved, fawning over girls as young as his own daughter. She had grown to hate him over the years. A sizzle of heat and jealousy spiked through her heart when she thought of Jayn Sexton’s demure eyes. Her refusals to give in to his passions only inflamed him more. She trembled with fury and hatred and sickening fear.

The key rattled in the lock and the door opened. She rose quickly, panting, to face her executioners. To her surprise, her uncle entered—Aldermaston Kranmir.

“Am I to be freed?” she gasped with a spasm of desperate hope. She could see from his expression that it was a foolish question.

He looked calm and dreadful, his eyes narrowing coldly. “Did you really believe he would forgive you?” he whispered darkly. He motioned for the guards to leave them alone, and the door was shut and locked.

“Please, Uncle!” she begged. “Why not banishment? I would leave Comoros—”

“You are wasting your precious last breaths with such talk,” he said. He shook his head as if she were a simpleton, and it galled her. “Your husband
wants
you dead. He wanted it before you went to Muirwood. You never learned to curb your anger, child. To better control your malice. Even a little brook can wear down stones. I pity you, truly. But you will die this morning.”

Lady Deorwynn felt herself nearly faint. She sat on the stone-rimmed pallet covered in moldy straw. She had suffered all night from cold, wishing in vain for a brazier to offer some warmth. The memory of Maia suffering with cold in the attic was like a sword wound in her breast. She grunted with the pain of it.

“Remorse, child?” Kranmir said mockingly. “It ill suits one of your temperament. You made yourself Queen of Comoros. That was quite a triumph. You climbed the steep pole of power, enjoyed a few tottering moments at the apex, and look how fast you fell. Was it worth it?”

She turned the dagger of her gaze to him. “Look what
you
have lost, Uncle,” she seethed. “What of your ambition? You lost Muirwood. You will soon lose your own abbey.”

Kranmir looked at her placidly, unconcerned. “How much you still have to learn.”

“Me? Who helped
you
rise to power, Uncle? Who softened the king’s heart toward your counsel and secret advice? I did!”

“And at the same time, you alienated him against his own flesh and blood, his only child. Deorwynn, can you not see the extent of the damage you did yourself by persecuting the princess?”

“She is
not
a princess!” Lady Deorwynn shrieked.

He took a step toward her. “She is. And you were a fool not to see it. Not to understand your enemy better. You made her powerful by treating her with shame and contempt. The people are thundering for her to be named the king’s heir again. They are
rioting.
If they knew she was in the city right now, all Sheol would be loosed on us.”

Lady Deorwynn gaped at him in astonishment. “What do you mean? How can she be here?”

He shook his head sadly. “The Apse Veil, of course! That foolish girl, after everything you have done to her, came here with the notion of saving you.” He snorted with disdain. “Yes, the Apse Veils are open again. I have had word that certain Leerings in Augustin began to shine for the first time last night. I believe what was said. The refugees from Assinica are coming.”

“You do not seem very concerned about losing your abbey,” she said again.

He chuckled softly. “Still, you do not see the possibilities. I have not lost anything yet. The king needs me. He needs legitimacy. He needs to have power over the maston order, and he uses me to accomplish that. Trust me, Deorwynn, if the people will riot to acclaim Lady Maia, then she is of no further use to the Crown. She will join you in an ossuary in the cemetery. Shortly.”

Lady Deorwynn stifled her breath. “He will not kill his own daughter.”

Kranmir smirked. “Oh, I think he will. You have never truly understood him, Deorwynn. If you had, you never would have shamed him by taking lovers. What you have neglected to realize is that most men, and
this one
especially, have an infinite capacity to feel sorry for themselves. It is so easy to placate him, it is like feeding scraps to a dog. Touch for a moment on his inner pain, his frustration at being disobeyed, dishonored, or even disheveled, and he laps it up like milk. He was utterly
humiliated
at Muirwood. He also feels himself tottering on the pole of power. He will do anything to remain king. His two greatest risks are you and his daughter. Both will be dealt with. Crabwell is seeing to it right now.”

Lady Deorwynn stood and rushed to him. “What about my children?”

A wry smile answered her. Nothing more.

“Tell me!” she begged.

“There are kishion for that sort of thing,” he said coldly.

“No!” she groaned, seizing his arms. She trembled violently.

His brow wrinkled. “The king is preparing for the invasion. The armada will come here next. We have gathered a sizable sum in the treasury. Dahomey has been plundered, so we need not fear Gideon. Yes, he will be wroth when he learns his bride was executed. But surely he knows what she
really
is. Even though a binding sigil prevents me from saying it, we all know the truth. The king will have her gown stripped off before her execution to show the kystrel’s taint and the brand on her shoulder. In front of the people! Oh yes, their love of Princess Maia will turn to horror when they realize the truth. Did you hear Cruix Abbey was burned? Hmmm? The king would have given her a chance to join forces with him, to become the tool he had intended to make her. A tool to save Comoros from the invaders. A tool to challenge the authority and power of Naess and its dark pools. But we all know she will not submit. The king must destroy Maia instead of letting her destroy him. Any king would do that to preserve his throne.”

Lady Deorwynn felt her hopes crumbling to dust. “She is innocent. She is not truly evil.”

He snorted. “That did not stop
you
from speaking against Forshee and his sons. Their room was just above yours. Good-bye, child. I will miss you. Until we meet again . . . in Idumea.” The smile he gave her was dark and twisted.

She felt like she would start weeping again, but she forced herself to control her emotions. She stared at him coldly.

“I will face my death as strong as any man,” she said angrily. “Let the headman’s axe fall.”

Kranmir shook his head. “A swordsman will do the honors,” he replied, tapping at the door. “Either way, it ends this morning. I have already signed the annulment of your marriage, which renders all of your offspring bastards. That is the first step. Maia will follow you to the gallows.”

The key turned and the door opened.

“What of the refugees from Assinica?” she demanded. “They are coming, surely.”

He looked at her without concern. “Have you ever heard the saying of being tossed from the pan into the coals? Artisans, musicians, sculptors. They will make excellent slaves. Ah, Captain Trefew. Escort Lady Deorwynn to the plinth.”

“As you say, High Seer,” he replied, grinning at Lady Deorwynn as he spoke. Her eyes widened at the new title. Trefew was a vulgar man. He had been too drunk to board the
Blessing of Burntisland
the night it had set sail for Dahomey. Deorwynn had since suspected that he was too wise, not too drunk. He shackled her wrists proficiently and then took the lead chain and brought her out of the cell.

As she walked, her conscience began to spasm with dread. There was no hope left. No reprieve would come to her, just as there had been no reprieve for the others she had caused to be sent to the block. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she wondered if she would be able to face the headsman with equanimity after all. She wanted to faint, but she steeled herself, determined to see it through.

They passed several cells that were secured with bars rather than doors.

“Mother!” Jolecia screamed, rushing to the bars. “Mother, no!”

Lady Deorwynn glanced at the weeping girl and saw Murer huddled in the shadows at the back of the cell, her face ashen. She nodded to the girls, but could not make her tongue work to say anything.

As they breached the outer doors to the greenyard, she felt the cold morning air penetrate her thin gown. It fluttered her hair, and she shivered.

“A favor, Captain Trefew,” she said.

He snorted. “As if you could do
me
any favors now. Though there are some favors I would have liked.”

“Please, Captain. You have seen Lady Maia. Tell her I am sorry. Tell her I regret the way I treated her. It is my fault she was poisoned. It is my fault her mother is dead. Tell her this. My dying words. It was
my
doing.”

“Look at the window yonder,” he said, grinning cruelly, and pointed. “If you shout it, she may even hear you.”

Lady Deorwynn stared at the window. It was near enough that she could make out Maia’s dark hair. Her heart twisted with regret and pain. She longed to apologize to Maia directly, for her hatred and for the harm she had done. Even Lady Deorwynn’s mother, her
ruthless
mother had eventually been softened by Maia. Yet not Deorwynn herself. For some reason, the girl’s meekness had only infuriated her more. Eventually, it had driven her to seek Maia’s death.

Lady Deorwynn glanced at the small crowd assembled below. She could hear the murmuring of voices, see the sneers of contempt as Trefew hauled her toward the scaffold and the stone plinth that awaited her. There was a hooded headsman standing there, his hands resting on the pommel of a great sword that looked cold in the dawn light. She prayed it was sharp. There was Crabwell, smug as a lap spaniel. Not her husband, of course. Though he had ordered enough murders, he was a coward when it came to seeing blood shed. Many of the earls from the Privy Council were assembled, though. None of them gave her any looks of sympathy. They were reveling in her downfall.

Let them.

She mounted the steps to the scaffold, trying to control her riotous feelings, desperately working to keep her legs from buckling. The wind caused some of her hair to stray before her eyes, and she lifted the heavy manacles to smooth it back. She stared at the executioner, a man paid for the horrid task of ending a criminal’s life.

There was something about his bearing, his size, which was . . .

By the Blood, no!

She saw the scars just under the hood. The icy blue eyes. Part of one ear was missing. He was smiling. He seemed to be enjoying himself as if he were out for a stroll on a riverbank. It was the kishion
she
had hired. He had not received full payment for his services yet. If he killed her, he never would. What was happening? Why would he be there?

The kishion grabbed her arm and forced her to kneel in front of the plinth.

“Farewell, madame,” he whispered hoarsely. “I serve another now.”

She closed her eyes. The last thing she heard was the sound of his boots as he stepped away from her.

Falling.