A slight flush rose in her cheeks as she cupped it in her hand and stared at the six elegant petals. Feint Collier had left her this flower. It was a trifle, really—just a small gesture, and yet it touched her deeply. She sighed and then hid the flower again. She stood for a moment, trying to understand the mixed feelings that were stirring in her heart. She did not trust them. She did not trust him. Still, it was a thoughtful gesture and a small spot of brightness in a path drenched in shadows.
“Do you hear that?” Jon Tayt said, rising suddenly from the crouched position he had affected to drink from the brook. He wiped his mouth and beard and walked to the edge of the grove. After a few moments, Maia heard it as well. She had no doubt the kishion would have already heard the sounds. A rider.
Judging by the sound, the horse was at a full gallop, and sure enough, they could soon see a lathered mount plunging down the road. It came from the direction they were headed, riding hard and fast for Roc-Adamour. Maia stayed hidden in the fringe of trees, but she saw the colors of the rider’s tunic and his black felt hat. It was a royal horseman. Not Collier—the rider was too short, and she had not seen him wearing anyone’s livery the previous night.
The rider passed their position and was gone in moments, leaving a trail of settling dust.
“Not a royal scout,” Jon Tayt said, scratching his throat below his pointed beard. “A messenger. He could break his neck and the horse’s legs riding that fast. A pity for the horse. What an idiot.”
“He wore the king’s colors,” Maia pointed out.
“I noticed that. Collier said the army was north. We’re heading east. Maybe the rider is trying to catch up with Collier. Whatever the reason, we should get these steeds to Briec and be gone. From there, it is two days’ journey to the pass we need to take to cross into Mon.”
“The sooner we are out of Dahomey, the better,” Maia said determinedly.
“Was it the poisonous serpents, the flesh-eating ticks, or the endless gnats that most charmed you about this fair kingdom?” Jon Tayt said with a crooked smile. “Ach, I do miss Pry-Ree at times.”
She felt a whisper in her mind, a dark warning. You will all die because of this place. This is the land where death was born.
“Your face clouded over just now,” Jon Tayt said, his expression changing to one of concern. “What is it?”
She could not tell him about the whispers from the Medium. It had been a few days since she had last heard one. They seemed to come to her more frequently when danger was near. They warned her of it in advance, which was one of the reasons she had come to trust them. She had learned from studying the chancellor’s tome that the whisperings were often subtle and disguised as her own thoughts. Experience had taught her it was true.
“Just a memory,” she lied, patting his meaty shoulder fondly. “I was almost the queen of this realm, you know.”
He looked at her, surprised. “How so?”
“I was very young when the Mark was born, and my father negotiated a marriage alliance between our kingdoms. I started learning Dahomeyjan when I was two. I have always loved learning different languages. The marriage alliance was rejected long before I was banished. But I have never forgotten that my first husband was going to be the Mark.”
“You know the history of the Mark’s Family, do you not?” Jon Tayt said.
Maia smiled and walked back to Preslee, stroking her soft neck and wishing, against all hope, that somehow she could keep her. It was a foolish thought. The whim of the spoiled princess she had once been.
“It is a famous story, Jon Tayt. Yes, I know it.”
The kishion walked up. “I do not. Tell me.”
Maia was not surprised. The kishion were trained in fighting and murder, not history. She wiped the hair from her eyes and faced him, gripping the saddle pommel and preparing to mount.
“When the mastons left these shores before the Scourge, one of my ancestors, Lia Demont, made a prophecy of sorts about the Earl of Dieyre. She cursed him to survive the Scourge. She said that he would be the last man left in this land, and that he would live to see her words fulfilled. He was a noble from Comoros who fought in the civil wars that followed the Scourge, but he was also invested with a rank in Dahomey. He eventually married, though he always searched for Lia’s sister-in-law, Marciana Price, the one woman he truly loved. She had fled the shores with the mastons. Dieyre ultimately married a noblewoman from Dahomey, the Queen Dowager’s younger sister, thus inheriting even more lands in Dahomey. Because of his prowess on the battlefield, he continued to gain rank in both realms and eventually overthrew the King of Dahomey. Then he overthrew Comoros. One by one, the kingdoms fell, and Dieyre proclaimed himself emperor of all seven kingdoms.”
They both stared at her, listening to her words. As she spoke, she could almost hear the clash of blades. There were screams far distant, as if the very ground had gorged itself on too much blood. Maia shuddered, feeling sick.