Lia looked down at her hands. “What you are telling me is that your parents were married this way. Possibly back many generations.”
“Six, actually. There are some maston families who have tomes recording their lineage back to the Flood.” She smiled sadly and touched Lia’s arm. “I know that Colvin fancies you. He admires and respects you. If he had deeper feelings than this, he has done well to tame them and keep them hidden, even from me. But he will marry a girl who is a maston whose parents were married by the sigil. He is concerned about future generations, not just his own feelings. Or yours.”
Lia had never heard of irrevocare sigils before. There was no real reason a wretched should be told about them, but that did not stop it from aching inside her. Being bound to Colvin forever? The thought made her blush.
“It is not my fault that I am a wretched,” Lia murmured softly.
“I know, Lia. That is why it is so pitiable. I just wanted you to know. Colvin behaved poorly this afternoon. He did not expect your reaction. Likely you had a father who was very strong in the Medium who fell in love with a girl who was probably a learner herself. Unable to tame their feelings for each other, you became the result. Not because they did not love you. Not because they did not love each other. But there are so few mastons left, and even fewer who will be patient enough to wait for the sigil to be performed. Colvin is qualified for the sigil because of our parents. He is determined to have it.”
A bitterness twisted deep inside of Lia. “He is nothing if not stubborn.”
Almost as if to answer that thought, a firm knock sounded on the door. She knew it was him. Alarm flashed in Marciana’s eyes, but Lia stood and went to the door. “Who is it?” she demanded, hand firmly on the crossbar.
“I need to speak with my sister.” Cold, stern, implacable.
Colvin.
CHAPTER TWENTY:
Hillel Lavender
Mustering her courage and quelling her self-pity, Lia lifted the crossbar and tugged at the door. The hall was dimly lit and Colvin carried a candelabra, the flame flickering in his eyes as he stared at her. He blinked, seeing her in his sister’s chemise. There was something in his expression, a stumble of some kind and if his defenses were momentarily breached.
“What is it?” Lia asked, her voice cold.
Colvin swallowed. “Dieyre is in my room. Marciana – I want you to hear what he has to say.”
She rose from the fire and advanced, her face skeptical. “What is happening, Colvin?”
“I will explain on the way. He insisted you be there or he would tell me nothing more.”
“What of Ellowyn?” Lia asked warningly.
Colvin nodded to her but looked slightly annoyed. “Under your protection, as the Aldermaston said.”
For a moment, Lia had worried that he would suggest Ellowyn come with them. That they would try and steal away from the Abbey that night with or without her help.
Marciana kissed Lia’s cheek. “I will knock when I return, but you can sleep if you like. The bed is soft.”
Lia grimaced. “I hold vigil this night, remember? I will be awake when you come.” She looked in Colvin’s eyes, saw the mask concealing his feelings again. He dipped his head to her and then started down the hall with his sister, whispering to her about Dieyre. She watched a moment as he left, her heart aching at the yawning chasm separating them.
After settling the crossbar back in place, Lia turned and found Ellowyn still scrubbing the clothes clean, humming a little tune to herself. It was the first time they had been alone together. She had no recollection of ever having had a conversation with the girl. Jealousy was the normal feeling she experienced when she looked at Ellowyn. Watching her hum and scrub, she felt the first pangs of gratitude and even a little fondness for the simple girl.
Lia approached Ellowyn awkwardly, wondering whether she wanted to talk or not. Without lifting her head, she heard Ellowyn’s shy, reserved voice.