Princess of Comoros
There was a soft tap on her bedchamber door. Maia looked up from the window seat from which she had been watching the commotion in the bailey below. She rose and walked to the door and opened it. There was her chamberlain, Nicholas Creed, crushing his velvet cap in his hands. He looked miserable.
“What is it, Nicholas?” she asked with concern. “Is your wife well? Is it one of your children?”
“Lady Maia,” he said dejectedly. “I bring ill tidings.”
Maia’s face blanched. “Is my mother dead?”
“No! No, by the Blood, no!”
Maia sighed in relief.
She heard the sound of boot steps ascending the stairwell. “What is it, then, Nicholas?”
“I must let them take you away, Lady Maia. You are to be removed from the palace.”
Her heart started to wail in protest. “Where?” She seized his arm. “Am I being sent to Pent Tower?”
“It is not as bad as that.”
“You look so grave, Nicholas. There is more news you have not told me.”
He bit his bottom lip. “They will be here shortly to take you. I cannot spare the blow. Forgive me, Lady Maia, but this is none of my doing. Your lord father, the king, is sending you to be a lady-in-waiting to your stepsister, Lady Murer.” He cringed when he said this.
Maia stared at him in disbelief. “What do you say? Nicholas, I do not understand.”
He swallowed, scrunching the velvet cap even more. “Your father has signed an act naming Lady Deorwynn’s children as his legal and lawful heirs. He has declared Lady Murer Princess of Comoros. You are now . . .” He started to choke on the words. “You are now to be known as Lady Maia, the king’s daughter.”
“My father signed this?” she said in astonishment. “I am now considered his . . . his bastard?”
Nicholas Creed nodded miserably. “I am on assignment from His Majesty’s chamberlain. While you have been forbidden to wear your state gowns and such, you will now surrender all of your clothes, your badges, your dishes, your treasure. They will be given to Lady Murer. You will wait upon her at Hadfeld Manor.”
Maia’s legs trembled beneath her. “Hadfeld is the manor of Lady Deorwynn’s mother and father!”
“Yes. They are your masters now. You are forthwith forbidden to use the title of princess in any correspondence or to insinuate that title in any form, per your father’s command. Ladies Murer and Jolecia are acknowledged as the true princesses of the realm and their brothers as princes.”
She watched as the men reached the top of the stairs and began marching down the hall toward her.
“Who are these men?” Maia demanded.
“They are here to take your gowns and clothes, to prevent you from despoiling any. Including the one you are wearing.”
“But what am I to wear?” she asked in horror.
“A servant’s livery,” Nicholas said with sadness. “I am sorry, Lady Maia. I will not be your chamberlain any longer. You are to report to Hadfeld immediately to assume your new station.”
Her eyes burned. “Did you see my father’s orders? Did you see them yourself, Nicholas? Or was Lady Deorwynn the one who issued the command?”
“I heard it spoken by the king himself,” he said, nodding, and stepped away as the men began to push into her room. Some carried crates and wooden boxes. Her dwelling was small, so it did not take them long. She stood there stunned, watching as the men stuffed away her clothing and packed all of her limited possessions. It was like watching the theft of her memories. She covered her mouth, horror-struck, as her chamber was ransacked.
How could her father treat her in such a way? She had not seen him lately, due to his travels and hunting trips, but what had persuaded him to finally disavow her as his trueborn daughter? Her stomach cramped painfully and she worried she would be sick on the floor rushes.
Crates and chests were strapped shut and hefted out of the chamber. The pillows and tasseled blankets were stripped away. Soon she was staring at an empty room. One thought dominated all others: She had to see her father. She had to know if this was truly his will and not Lady Deorwynn’s manipulation. Had his heart been shut to her?
“Nicholas, you must help me,” she whispered.
“My lady, what can I do?” he said with anguish. “I am the king’s servant.”
“Yes, but can you deliver a message to him? Please, Nicholas!”
He shrugged helplessly. “It will not do any good, my lady.”
“Just tell him that I wish to see him. That I wish to plead my case to him.”
He fidgeted. “I will try. That is all that I can promise you. I am sorry, my lady. You deserve . . .” His voice trailed off. He did not trust himself to finish the sentiment.
A rough man walked up to her. “The gown too, lass. We were told to take it all.”