There was silence as daughter stared at mother, dumbstruck. “To be . . . Queen . . . of Dahomey? The cursed kingdom?”
Maia felt a prick of apprehension and envy, remembering that, at one time, she had been betrothed to the heir of Dahomey. She had always thought of the cursed shores with a degree of curiosity, and if things had turned out differently, she would have reigned over them one day. She stifled her resentful feelings.
“I would not wish that,” Jolecia said. “I should be frightened to live in Dahomey. Their Leerings are cursed!”
“They do have strange customs there, do they not?” Murer said. “You once lived there, Mother, and always ridiculed them. And the Family who was chosen to rule . . .” There was a pronounced note of distaste in her voice. “We all know about that heritage, do we not? I should think one of the Earl of Forshee’s sons would be infinitely preferable. I have been curling my hair for Whitsunday, as you can see.”
“She will not let me curl mine,” Jolecia murmured.
“I have heard the Forshees fancy that,” Murer went on. “But Dahomey . . . truly, Mother?”
Lady Deorwynn continued stitching, saying nothing.
Murer went to the tray where Maia had finished pouring the cups. “Thank you,” she said. Then her expression changed, as if she had only then recognized it was Maia who had served her and not one of the other girls. The look turned to disdain.
Holding the cup elegantly, she took a dainty sip and walked behind the couch. “Today is Whitsunday, Mother. Even the servants are allowed to dance around the maypole with their betters. Is Maia going to dance?”
A blush of hot shame shot through Maia’s cheeks at being drawn into the girl’s devious web. She cursed Murer under her breath.
“Even the wretcheds are allowed,” Lady Deorwynn said musingly. “I suppose we cannot forbid it.” The needlework flashed like silver knives. “But really, who do you think will ask her to dance around the maypole? Even the local villagers here at Billerbeck Hundred know who she is.” She looked up from her work, flashing a malicious glance at Maia.
“I am not feeling well,” Maia said in a low voice. “I did not plan to attend.”
“Oh, but you must,” Lady Deorwynn said, setting down the needlework. “Why do you think Papa chose Billerbeck to celebrate Whitsunday? Why make such a long journey for the occasion?”
Maia used to know her father’s thinking. In the past, she would have been able to answer the question accurately. Now she did not understand her father.
“I do not know,” Maia said softly. “Likely it is the farthest abbey from Muirwood.”
Lady Deorwynn rose, her eyes flashing with anger. “You have a wicked tongue.”
Maia stared at her coldly, saying nothing.
“You must learn humility, child. That is the way of the Medium, is it not? So proud in your heart still. Well, only through suffering do we learn, as the Aldermastons and the Dochte Mandar teach us. You have much to learn.” It sounded like a threat.
“If she does not wish to attend the maypole dance, Mother, we should not force her,” Murer said. “Whether she dances or not, there will be shame enough.”
“Papa wishes her to be seen by the Forshees,” Lady Deorwynn explained patiently. “To show them that she is well, that she is treated with kindness and compassion. She is not a prisoner in Pent Tower, as the rumors say. So you see, Maia, even if you are unwell, you must attend. No one will dance with you anyway. You are a thing to be pitied.”
“I will attend if Father wishes it,” Maia said dispassionately. She never called him Papa.
Her heart ached, but she did not let it show on her face. As the sisters began talking about gowns and garlands, she silently left the solar. She pressed one hand to her abdomen, trying to push down the pain and ill humor. Since her banishment, her strength had flagged and she had been sick quite often. She suffered from ulcers in her stomach, according to the healers, which they treated with herbs and tinctures. Nothing worked. She had even sent for the Aldermaston of Claredon for a Gift of healing. Any maston could call upon the Medium for a Gifting to aid another person. The Aldermaston had tried unsuccessfully. Sadly, he had explained it was the Medium’s will that she suffer from her ailments.