Kranmir nodded with satisfaction. “Lady Shilton, you are my witness. So are these soldiers. Lady Suzenne Clarencieux is free of the taint. Now, Lady Maia. If you would submit to the same procedure, we shall examine you next.”
His eyes looked into hers, and her suspicion was confirmed. Yes, he knew . . . he had probably known for a while. He nodded to Captain Trefew. Suzenne moved forward to help her, but the captain shoved her away. Maia cringed as she felt the hands touch her, yanking loose the girdle and tearing the sleeve of her gown. She wanted to strike out, to scream, but she endured the humiliation as he nearly ripped the dress from her. It was what he had wanted to do on that long-ago day when she had been taken to Lady Shilton’s manor, when her remaining privileges had been stripped away, as well as her clothes.
Maia stood in her chaen, feeling the same awkwardness to be stared at by so many, but she lifted her chin in defiance and refused to cower. Trefew gathered up her gown in a heap under one arm and stared at her with vile emotions burning in his eyes.
“Let me see your hand,” he said, gesturing for her right. She opened her palm and showed him the pink scar on it. He nodded, frowned, and then folded his arms.
“Even the chaen does not conceal the kystrel’s taint on your breast,” he said sternly. “I am shocked that Richard Syon did not have you examined when you came to Muirwood. Did he know what you are? I cannot say the word, you know. Obviously a binding sigil is at work here.”
Maia clenched her teeth as she stared at him in anger. She said nothing.
“Your shoulder, please,” he said, motioning for her to bare it.
Maia kept her expression as calm as she could. “I bear the mark,” she said simply, her voice quavering. “But I am not what it implies.”
Kranmir smirked at her in response. “Show me.”
Maia sighed, anguished, and slipped the chaen over her shoulder, exposing the hetaera’s brand. As soon as she did, a veil of blackness drew over her eyes like a cloud blotting out the moon.
And then she was falling.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gallows
It was a struggle, terrifying and sudden. Blackness shrouded Maia, enveloping her in dark coils of smoke and suffocation. She felt a wrenching sensation in her mind and body, as if her soul was about to be sundered. On instinct, she battled it, refusing to yield to the vapor that threatened to stifle her. She groaned and thrashed, trying to repel the invasion. It was like fighting off an ocean’s tide. There was nowhere to anchor her feet, no way to shove against the amorphous waves that wished to bury her alive. She was drowning in the blackness of the Myriad Ones.
A sudden light pierced the darkness, knifing through it like a glowing Leering. That blackness melted away from her, unable to cling, and seeped through the stones and crevices of the rock around her instead. The Leering in the ceiling was blindingly bright, and Maia discovered when she opened her eyes that she was curled up on the ground.
As her eyes adjusted to the brilliance, she watched as Suzenne’s hand lowered from the maston sign. Her other hand was pressed flush against Maia’s brow. Though her friend was strained and weak, she had a look of defiance mingled with fear as she covered Maia’s exposed shoulder with the chaen.
“You did that deliberately,” Suzenne said to the men.
Kranmir’s eyes were wide as he stared at the two girls on the floor. His nostrils were rimmed with white. A look of fascination mingled with dread transfixed his face, and a single ball of sweat trickled down his cheek.
“So it is true,” he whispered hoarsely.
Lady Shilton was fanning herself, her eyes wide with unalloyed horror. She cowered by Aldermaston Kranmir’s side, trembling, groping for a chair to sit on, though none was there.
Maia gave Suzenne a grateful look and tried to rise, but her muscles quivered and trembled, her energy completely sapped by the ordeal. Suzenne helped her sit up, hushing her gently.
“What I did,” Kranmir continued, shaking his head stubbornly, “is prove beyond a doubt that you are a danger and a threat to the kingdom of Comoros. Who wears your kystrel?” he asked.
Maia’s throat felt raw, as if she had screamed for too long. “I do not know.”
The Aldermaston looked far from convinced. “Whoever it is, they must be found and destroyed. Did Walraven give the kystrel to you? Hmmm? Absolute treachery. Your father will be displeased.”
“My father knew I had it,” Maia contradicted, trying again to rise, and failing still.