“Sit,” Collier said, swinging his head to the kishion. “Finish your meal at the least. You can have my room. It is as I said, I will sleep in the stables or here in the common room on the floor.”
Maia shook her head. “You have already done too much,” she said. “We returned the horses as promised, but you cannot help us without endangering yourself. Even now, you are taking a great risk.”
“I know,” he answered with a smile. “I cannot help it, I was born to wager the odds. I want to help you.”
Maia wished Jon Tayt would return quickly. She wanted to leave. She wanted to bed down in the forest, away from the music and the cheese and the warmth—away from this handsome man who had left a flower in her saddlebag. Collier made her wistful for something she knew that she could never have. At least not while her father governed her life.
“You must not,” she said, shaking her head.
He scowled, frustrated by her refusal. “Very well. Then give me one boon at least.”
She sighed. “I will not tell you my name,” she answered stubbornly.
He shook his head, his expression serious, his tone intimate. “Not that, lass. Just give me one thing.”
She felt conflicted and anguished. Where was Jon Tayt? A prickle of uneasiness sent her body into a panic. “And what is that?”
“A dance,” he said, extending his hand to her. “If you must go tonight, then give me this memory to take with me. Please, my lady. Dance with me.”
In my day, the Dochte Mandar had a saying, which I believe has survived centuries in their tomes: Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of your opponent’s fate. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.
—Lia Demont, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey
CHAPTER TWELVE
Surrounded
It was not the maypole dance, for there was not a maypole in the common room. It was a ring dance, like the ones they did at court, and the mix of sounds from the lute, flutes, coronets, and box bells sent a giddiness through the air that only added to Maia’s nerves. His hand was warm and calloused and full of strength.
Maia was much shorter than Feint Collier, and she had to look up to see his face. His smile told her that he was pleased with himself for having finally claimed her. She steeled herself against that smile, wanting the tune to be over with so she could escape into the night. There was a dreadful apprehension in her stomach, but it was mingled with the flutterings of dancing for the first time since she had come of age.
“You have me to yourself at last,” Maia said to Collier as they twirled around the slow-moving circle. “What do you have to say?”
“I was hoping to enjoy the moment a bit longer before ruining it with words.”
“Are you such a poor speaker then?”
He shook his head. “I love conversation. It is only that with you, certain topics are clearly forbidden. Such as your name.”
“Yes,” she said.
“So is your origin. Your Dahomeyjan is flawless, but you are not from this land. You certainly have a gift with languages.”
She cocked her head at him. “A curious word to use, Master Collier.”
“I used it deliberately.”
“You said you are not a maston,” she said to him, dropping her voice lower. “Yet you use such words and even quote from the tomes.”
“I am not a maston. Are you?”
Maia felt the probing nature of the question. She shook her head.
“I thought not,” he said with a subtle nod. “My father was, yet he sired a wretched and would not claim me. I do not think well of mastons.”
They separated and went down the line, exchanging partners three times before meeting up again. The time they spent apart passed in a blur. His hand grazed hers. So warm. His deep blue eyes were inquisitive.
“I have another question for you, my lady,” he said, gazing down at her with a half smile.
“I will answer it if I can.”
They twisted and went the other way as the circle reversed its order. Her feet felt light and easy—the dance was slow enough that it was not difficult to keep up with the changes.
“You are traveling with a kishion. Is he a threat to you, or a protector?”
A shiver of cold shot through Maia’s stomach. “Why do you ask that?”
“Come, my lady. He has a dark look. I sense you are in danger with him. Even now, he is watching us too keenly. Will he try to kill you if you leave with me?”
Maia looked at him in surprise. “I am not leaving with you.”
“That came out wrong. Let me try again. It is difficult talking with a murderer staring at you so intently.”
“Staring at me?”
“No, at me! I know you do not trust me, but you trusted me enough for this dance. Thank you. What I want to know is if you can dismiss him. Did you hire him for protection or did another?”