He held out the gown and she accepted it, then watched as he unlatched the door and slipped away. Maia stared down at the soft folds of fabric. A gown like this must have cost at least several thousand marks. It truly was a gown fit for a queen. Her stomach churned with conflicting emotions. There was a deep ache inside of her that she did not fully understand. In her own country, she was considered a bastard, even though her parents had been married in an abbey by irrevocare sigil.
But Collier knew who she was, and he treated her as befit her status. They had been plight trothed together when they were children. And she had agreed, albeit unwillingly, to marry him. In the eyes of the world, they were husband and wife. But in Maia’s eyes, and in her heart, they were not.
As a girl, she had always dreamed of marrying a maston. She knew it was her duty to prolong the chain of mastons that had existed for centuries. Collier was charming. He was undeniably handsome. She liked being in his presence, and he had come to her rescue more than once. He treated her like an equal in station. Yet he did not share her beliefs. He considered her a pawn in his game to become the emperor of all the kingdoms. She set the beautiful dress down on the bed and covered her mouth, struggling with herself.
She needed to tell Collier the full truth.
A shiver of despair and fear pulsed through her. How long had she been away from her mind the last time the Myriad One took over? She had no idea. Had it been days? Even longer? No matter what it took, she needed to root out the evil being inside her and banish it forever. She had to reclaim her tainted mind.
Maia took a deep breath. She would tell him. She would confess her secret. Maybe he would reject her and refuse to offer his continued help. She had to accept that possibility. Her heart burned with fear and worry.
Fighting the feelings, she reached back and began unfastening the buttons of her sodden bodice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Betrayal
The door hinges squeaked and a rush of salty air entered the captain’s quarters. The boat swayed as it glided along the water. Maia was perched on the small stool by the captain’s desk, fidgeting with one of the cuffs of the gown, wishing she had a mirror to examine herself. She turned her head and saw Collier securing the door behind him. Her stomach twisted cruelly. She was so nervous, her hands trembled.
“We passed the gatehouse without . . . problem,” he announced and then stumbled a bit. He stared at her. “The gown . . . it enhances your beauty. I clearly have good taste.” He smiled at her and approached. “We will feel the boat jostle when we reach the sea, but it should not be enough to alarm you.”
“I thought they might try to stop us,” Maia said, only partially relieved.
“The armada is positioned to prevent attack on Rostick, not to block ships from leaving. In situations like this, it has been my experience that word travels slowly and messages can be confused. Blocking a major seaport like this would be difficult. With all the ships bringing cargo, it is a bit of a jumble.”
Maia nodded and turned the stool to face him, resting her jittery hands in her lap. “We need to talk, Collier.”
“Such a grave look,” he said, a smile quirking his mouth. “On such a pretty face. I like how the gold contrasts with your hair.” He gestured toward her, but then folded his arms and shook his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. “But it does not match your eyes. I have something that might.”
Looking eager, he stooped over the chest again and rummaged through the contents. She waited patiently, squirming inside.
“Ah, here we are,” he said, fishing out a leather-bound box with gold fasteners. He brought the box to the table and set it beside her. Flipping open the little hasps, he opened it. On a bed of black velvet lay an array of butter-gold jewelry embedded with clear turquoise gemstones. The workmanship of each piece was exquisite, with delicate weavings of metal and stone. There were two necklaces, several sets of earrings, as well as bracelets, rings, and even filigreed hairpins bedecked with dazzling gems. She stared at the treasures, understanding how much they must have cost.
“When did you purchase these?” she asked, dazed.
“They were commissioned as wedding presents,” he said. “I had heard your eyes were a mixture of blue and green. The stones don’t do them justice, but they were chosen for their unique color. I think they came from Avinion. Quite expensive, but a queen must have her jewels.”
Maia stared down at her hands, feeling guilty. This was evidence that his interest in her was premeditated and not limited to his suspicion that she was a hetaera. “Collier—”
“No, not yet. Let me see them on you first. I would have had a bath drawn for you, considering we just plunged into a murky river, but we cannot have such luxuries aboard. Your hair is still damp. Let me comb it for you.”
“I can manage that,” Maia said, flushing. “I saw a comb on the table . . .”
“It is right there. Here, allow me.” He raced her to it and snatched it from the table. The comb had a decorative carving along the spine. There were wider bristles on one side and narrower ones on the other.