Guerney held the door for the Aldermaston and Queen Dowager and then shut it behind them and locked it. Dieyre was already moving past her towards the table and Ellowyn Demont.
* * *
“Wherever there is danger, there lurks opportunity; whenever there is opportunity, there lurks danger. The two are inseparable. They go together.”
- Gideon Penman of Muirwood Abbey
* * *
How does a single hunter, a girl, stop the best swordsman in the realm?
Lia wondered as she followed Dieyre into the study room. In her mind, she thought of all the training she had from Martin. She could stomp on his foot. Yank him off-balance by clutching his belt or sleeve. A jab to the throat or eyes with her fingers. Her heartbeat surged in her chest and a sickening chill went through her body at the thought of hurting him. Or
trying
and ending up face-down on the floor herself. She focused her thoughts, crushing the fear that engulfed her. Martin had trained her. That had to be good enough.
Marciana stared loathingly at Dieyre as he approached the table, and she could see by the flush on her face and daggers in her eyes that they knew each other.
“Is that Ovidius?” he said mockingly. “The tome of love as it is called? Are you not weary of only
reading
about it, Ciana?”
“What would you know about love, Dieyre?”
“Plenty. As I showed you in Billerbeck.” He turned his salute to Ellowyn. “So you are Demont’s niece? Not as pretty as I was expecting, given your famous lineage. We are not all equally endowed. It must be the Pry-rian blood tainting you. I am jesting, darling. You had best get used to it for I am good at little else.”
“Hello,” Ellowyn said, her face going scarlet with mortification and she stared at her hands. There was no Colvin to retreat behind.
“I have embarrassed
and
offended you!” he said with delight. “Forgive me, lass! Marciana is quite used to my barbs. We knew each other at Billerbeck where she wasted far too much time pining over ancient tomes instead of learning about the world.”
“What are you doing here?” Marciana said venomously.
“Offending you as well, naturally. We all have talents, it is true. This is mine. I do not have the penchant for reading as you do.”
“You never found much occasion to be at the cloisters at Billerbeck. It is a wonder you care to be in one now?” Marciana observed.
“Always ready with an insult.”
“You accuse
me
of that?”
“It is a waste of a beautiful mouth to use it in quarreling. Shall I silence you as I did in Billerbeck with a kiss? Think of the shock. Think of the lurid stories they would tell.” His voice dropped lower and he stepped towards her.
Marciana’s face went ashen. “I bit you then,” she whispered defiantly. “You will not steal that from me again.”
A little smirk quivered on Dieyre’s mouth. “No, I will not steal it. It must be given freely next time. But at least I have the memory to treasure. Especially when I realized you enjoyed it. There is also the pleasant scene of your brother’s reaction.” He turned and glanced at Lia. “Are you my shadow? Why are you still here?”
Lia stared at him, at his sudden provocation, and then she knew. It was as if she could look into his soul for just a moment. She understood him. “You followed
me
here, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed. “You are filthy and soaked.”
“So are you. My lord,” she added deferentially. “Why did you come here?”
“Are you questioning me?” he asked, his eyebrows arching. A look of anger kindled on his face.
“Yes,” Lia replied, moving around the other side of him to force him to twist his neck to see her. She was closer to Ellowyn now. “Your purpose for coming to the cloister? Other than to annoy the learners?”
He looked at her. “How old are you?”
Courage began to seep back into her bones at meeting his challenging tone. “If you will not submit to my questions, then I will not submit to yours but kindly insist that you leave. If you have no reason to be here, that is.”
He paused, staring at her so keenly it was unnerving. But she steeled herself and met his gaze as she had always done with the Aldermaston.
“How much would it cost me to purchase your loyalty?” he asked in a low voice. “Such a maiden as you is worth fifty squires. Maybe a hundred. I know you are a wretched, that you owe a debt of service. But I would gladly take you into my service when your debt is done.”
For a moment, Lia was startled, but she did not let it show. She knew his measure. “If you have no business here, then kindly follow me to the door so the porter can let you out.”
“You are not to be distracted, are you?” he said, grinning.
“I am a hunter,” she replied simply, cocking her head and raising her eyebrow.
“Very well. I will state my purpose before you embarrass me in front of the learners by tossing me out on my ear.” He wagged his finger at her. “Do not deny that would tempt you. My purpose then, is to persuade these young women both to leave Muirwood.”
“Persuade us?” Marciana said, her voice brim with loathing and antipathy. “Or abduct us?”
“As much as I would enjoy trussing you up like a piglet, Ciana, my purpose is as I stated it to be. I have given you my purpose, hunter, so sheath those glaring eyes and let me further my cause by asking several questions of great importance.” He turned his gaze on Ellowyn. “Your uncle – Demont. Does he intend you to wed the young king?”
Ellowyn’s eyes bulged and her mouth widened with shock. Lia covered her face and sighed.
“
Try
, lass, to control your face. That will never do at court. It will not do at all. Given your blatant surprise, I gather the answer is no. Is he going to hand you over to the Pry-rians then? Those dogs who are baying after you like table scraps?”
Lia’s blood flared hot when he called them dogs, but she did not let it show on her face.
“My…my uncle…”
Marciana squeezed her arm. “You do not have to tell him anything, dearest. He is prodding in the dark.”
“I swear I just may shame you with another kiss, no matter how sharp your teeth are,” he said with a growl. “Has your brother been practicing his swordsmanship much these days? A good fight would make the most of such tedious weather. This is an Abbey after all. I am sure they could spare an ossuary for his bones.”
“You will not provoke me, Dieyre,” she replied, obviously struggling but succeeding to maintain her composure. “Why do you care to know Demont’s plans? Ask him yourself!”
“I have, but he is midstream in a river, stuck in a tidepool and is getting spun about so quickly he cannot see his course any longer.” He looked at Ellowyn. “If you were wise, you would set your sights on the young king.”
“They are cousins,” Marciana reminded him.
He snorted. “How many of us are not in some way or another? A decree from Avinion can be easily obtained with enough coin. Think on it, Ellowyn. You are heir to the kingdom of Pry-Ree. A princess by birth by right of your father. The young king is titular sovereign of Pry-Ree – named its Protector as an infant. Idumea’s hand, he was born in Pry-Ree too! You would be a fool if you did not consider it. It would expand his borders and your influence. That is why you should not be here, nor Billerbeck, nor any of the many fine Abbeys in this realm. The sons and daughters of kings study at Dochte Abbey in Dahomey. It does not matter what realm you are from. Your mother could not study there, for she was a traitor’s daughter, but her mother – your grandmother – did study there because she was a king’s daughter. And so are you, Ellowyn. That is where Demont will send the young king to study, if Pareigis gets her way. And she always does. He does not deserve to be strapped to Demont’s side, obeying his whims. Let him be a king!”
Marciana’s eyes were veiled. “She is the Queen Dowager, not the king’s mother. She has no say over his destiny.”
Dieyre smirked. “She
will
get her way. I promise you that. I have said what I came here to say. Just do not linger at Muirwood. Either of you.”
“Why?” Marciana asked, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. Lia swallowed.
“I would tell you, but the Aldermaston’s hunter is standing too near.” He pitched his voice lower, his voice full of intrigue. “Come see me in my room tonight and I will tell you. I will leave the door unlocked for you.”
“You need not bother, for I will not come.”
“You almost sound sure, Ciana.”
“I am sure, Dieyre. Go back to your mistress.”
“There are so many, which do you refer to?” he asked, smiling broadly. Then rising languidly, he looked at Lia. “Would you escort me to the porter door then? It is warmer out in the storm than in here.” He gave a gallant bow to Marciana and Ellowyn and then marched back to the door. Lia rang the bell and Guerney arrived and unlocked it.
The rain fell in heavy sheets. The fountain basin was nearly overflowing, the surface pock-marked as the raindrops shuddered into it.
Guerney started shuffling back to the porter door, but Dieyre siezed Lia’s arm and stopped her.
“A warning for you as well,” he said in a low voice. “Pareigis has brought a
kishion
as part of her retinue.”
“A what?” Lia asked.
He lowered his head, smirking in disgust. “A kishion. Ask the Aldermaston what one is. Be on your guard. He is on the grounds. I have seen him already. He will be left behind when we leave.”
With that, he caught up with Guerney without giving her a second glance. She stood still, folding her arms, and tried not to shiver.
* * *
The Aldermaston’s kitchen was warm and smelled heavenly of soup and baked bread. The guests had been served and all were drinking cider back in the manor, except for Colvin, Marciana, Edmon, and Ellowyn – who lingered with Lia and Pasqua in the kitchen. The other two girls were serving the guests their meal. Lia took another nibble of cheese, pondering the strange tidings she had learned that day. Marciana was pacing, deep inside her thoughts, glancing occasionally at her brother. Lia rose from the bench and joined her.
“I know what you are thinking,” Lia said in a soft voice. She noticed Colvin at the other table, next to Ellowyn, was observing them.
“I am brooding.” Marciana said with a sigh.
“Let me see if I can arrange the hints. You did not touch your meal. You have not told Colvin about your run-in with his enemy and you keep looking at the door as if you expect Dieyre to arrive any moment.”
Marciana smiled softly. “You are good hunter, Lia. The Aldermaston was wise in choosing you.”
Lia shrugged. “You are wondering if you should see him tonight. To pry into his secrets.”
Marciana stared at the floor, her face darkening. “You do see through me.”
“You are not worried about yourself. You worry about your brother. If you can gain information that will help him, you would do it. But that means putting yourself in danger. You should not go. Colvin would not want that.”
“He would be furious if he knew what Dieyre said.”
“Which is why he said it,” Lia pointed out.
“What do you mean?”
Lia stopped and shook her head in puzzlement. “It is as if he uses the Medium somehow, but in a twisted kind of way. I did not recognize it at first when I met him at the laundry, but he is strong with the Medium. Not in the way you were taught.”
Marciana’s eyes widened. “Do you think he has a kystrel?”
Shaking her head, Lia replied with a frown, “No. When someone uses one, their eyes glow silver. What I meant by the Medium is he pushes his thoughts at you. He says things to provoke you deliberately, as if he is planting seeds he hopes will sprout. Colvin taught me so much about the Medium, about how it was passed on to him by the Aldermaston of Billerbeck. Dieyre is using the same principles, but towards selfish ends. That is why he asked you to come tonight. He planted a thought in your mind which will fester and fester until you pluck it out or until you act on it.” She squeezed Marciana’s arm. “It happened to me when Colvin was hiding. The sheriff put thoughts in my head to influence what I did. He hinted that I was a Demont, that he knew who my father was. He told me what I most wanted to hear, not what was true. Dieyre is doing to same to you. Do not trust him.”
Marciana stared at Lia for a moment, pondering. Lia could tell she was wrestling with it. “You are right, Lia. He is using the Medium that way. He has always been a very selfish man. He can be so charming when he wants to be, or angry when thwarted or petty and jealous. He had no desire to become a maston. He mocked the very ideal from the first moment he arrived. He never wanted to become one, and I will only marry a maston. There was a time when I believed…that Dieyre loved me. His attentions are flattering. At first I did not heed Colvin’s warning. But Colvin was right. And so are you. You are much alike. You have a way of seeing things clearly.”