The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #3)

She seemed not to comprehend his words. Tears fell from her lashes, but her look was confusion. “How can this be? I know who I am. My father was murdered on the field of battle by my cousin, the king. My mother and I have been outcasts in Dahomey since that time. I was raised in a poor Abbey in a poor province. I bring you no wealth, no lands, no position. And because I am a Demont, you incur the king’s enmity. All of this is due to a promise you made long ago to my father. I am a burden to you in every possible way. If it would help your kingdom to send me back to Pent Tower, I will face it. Think of your people, my lord. Think on the burdens they must bear if the king gets his will concerning Pry-Ree.”


Very slowly, deliberately, the Prince kissed her hand. He stood and pulled her up with him. “You are mistaken. As I look at you now, I see a prize worth having. A prize worth any wait. It is not because of lands or coins or promises that I desired to marry you. It was not even because of your lord father, though he was my ally and my friend.” He escorted her to the window and parted the curtain. “Do you see the mountains? Those are the Myniths of Pry-Ree. They are treacherous to cross. Wedged deep inside is another Abbey – a small Abbey known as Tintern. That is where I passed the maston test, just as you passed yours at Montargis. It is not the size of the Abbey that matters. It is the strength of conviction. When I spoke to your father of marrying, you were but thirteen. I knew that you were not ready then, for you were too young. Since the troubles of your family, I have watched and observed you from afar. I have observed you through the Gift of Seering, which I possess.” He pressed her hands in between his own. “It was not by chance that you traveled by ship to Pry-Ree and were captured. You are a maston, Elle. If I had communicated the Abbey where to meet me, you could have crossed the Apse Veil immediately. Your years in prison were a proving ground – do you understand? The Medium must prove us before it trusts us. It must prove us that we will be faithful, no matter the temptation. Only through the greatest sacrifices are the greatest powers of the Medium unleashed.” He paused and carefully brushed a strand of hair from her temple. “I was willing to wait to have someone like you. Someone who has passed every test, has remained constant and true. Being trapped in the tower would have broken the spirit of others, but it did not break yours. You were firm and resolute. I see it burning in your eyes. Your desire was never for yourself. Sweet lady, you are my equal in every way that matters most. That is who I wanted to marry. That is who I swore I would cherish. By irrevocare sigil, it is done. You have sacrificed enough for now. Of this I am certain – you will not leave this place with anyone other than myself. We will cross the Myniths, you and I. There are trees taller than any you can imagine. Giant husks of trees that are fallen and burned out by fire. There are waterfalls beyond imagining. There were fords and coves where the waves obey any who hold the rank of maston. We will see them all together. There is much I have to share with you.”

The girl’s eyes were wet and she hugged the Prince fiercely, protectively, and sobbed against his shoulder. He held her, pressing her close, smelling the scent of purple mint in her hair. He was grateful she could not see his face, at the storm of emotions that raged across his features as he clutched her. He had loved her since she was a child, loved her in abstraction for who she would become and his knowledge of what her character would be as a result of all her suffering. But squeezing this woman, this woman of flesh and blood, was deeper than an abstraction. He could already feel his heart throbbing with joy as well as looming sadness. What a contrast, he mused silently, loving the woman so strongly who would break your heart with her impending death. The pain of the thought was exquisite, a deep poignant shard that penetrated to his soul. The tighter she clung to him, the deeper the burr stabbed him.

When she had recovered from her tears, she pulled away and looked up at him, relief shining in her wet eyes.

“You were worried I would abandon you,” he said hoarsely, collecting a tear from her chin.

She shook her head. “No. I was more worried that I had heard the whisperings of the Medium incorrectly. I am relieved that I hearkened to them. That I trusted them.”

He smiled. “Well…I will offer you what relief that I can. You have suffered the ill will and opinion of the world long enough. When you leave Leigh Abbey, you will not return to Comoros again. You will spend the rest of your days in Pry-Ree, a queen-maston. It has been several generations since our people had one.” He cocked his head to the side, drinking in her face, her expression, the light he saw emanating from her countenance. The insidious whispers that she and her mother were hetaera were almost amusing if not so insulting. He would not see any marks of tattoos on her skin, or a brand on her shoulder to know the truth. Her very countenance radiated warmth and light and liveliness.

He was thoughtful as he asked her, “Do you know how they pronounce this Abbey in Pry-rian?”

She nodded confidently. “I do – for I have studied your mother tongue since I was thirteen. It sounds similar, but there is a different inflection. They would call it ‘Lia.’”

The Prince smiled as he felt the barb stab even deeper. “A beautiful name.”





CHAPTER TWENTY ONE:


Hillel