Light from behind the curtains stabbed her eyes painfully as the kishion drew them open. The world was spinning in place.
“The poison will not kill you,” the kishion said with amusement. “It only makes you wish you were dead. It will stop you from escaping while I fetch the men who will bring us to our destination. I will not be gone long. And I have another drug that will render you unconscious for the voyage. You will be easier to handle trundled up in a box.”
He smirked at her as she lay on the floor near the puddle of vomit. Her body could not move and she convulsed uncontrollably. Twisting the handle of the back door, he opened it and stepped out into the yard beyond.
Find me, Collier, she begged in her mind.
Find me.
She did not know how long she convulsed and squirmed on the floor. Even though her stomach still clenched and roiled, she finally managed to drag herself up by gripping the chair’s legs. Her movements were slow and painful and—even though her stomach was empty—she slumped back down to retch several more times. Then she started again, moving herself inch by careful inch, trying to reach the window. The bright morning light stung her eyes.
She got one hand on the bed, one on the chair, and began to laboriously lift herself. There was a sudden shadow at the window, but before she could see who it was, it was gone.
Before she could process what she had seen, the door burst open and Collier appeared, sword in hand. Sweat streaked his face. His disguise was dusty and sweat stained, but he had never looked more beautiful to her. His teeth clenched with rage and fury as he stared into the room, searching for his enemy. Maia tried to speak, but her tongue was swollen in her mouth. She had never felt so thirsty.
She reached out her hand, feeling her legs strengthen at the sight of him. A smile of relief spread across her face. They had to hurry. They had to flee back to Muirwood. But together they could do it.
A shape loomed behind Collier. Before she could even utter a word of warning, his face twisted with agony. He jerked his sword arm back, attempting to strike the kishion’s jaw with his elbow, but instead he crumpled to the floor. The sight of the knife buried in his back, blood blooming on the fabric around it, made Maia gape in horror. Without so much as glancing at her, the kishion shut the door and drew another dagger as he approached the fallen man.
Collier twitched with the spasms of pain. He tried to drag himself away on his arms, his sword having tumbled to the ground when he collapsed.
“No!” Maia shrieked, amazed at the strength of her voice. Even though she was dizzy and weak, she managed to hobble and claw her way to Collier’s side. She knew all too well how damaging a knife to the back could be—she had heard of men who were crippled this way, who died from damage to their internal organs.
“You should have waited longer,” the kishion sneered down at his fallen victim. “You rode ahead of your help. I thought you would do something foolish like that. I counted on it.”
Maia’s eyes filled with tears as she witnessed the suffering of the man she loved. Her heart groaned and she seemed to be drowning inside a black lake, sinking ever deeper. Panic and despair slashed all her hopes.
“No, no!” she begged. “Do not kill him! Please! I will do anything! I will go anywhere, but do not kill him! Do not touch him!”
The kishion shook his head. “Oh, but he must die, Maia. I won’t have you pining over him. Your life here is over. You are not the queen anymore. You are banished from Comoros forever. And I am banished with you.”
She stared into the kishion’s face with a pleading look, her injured body filled with helpless rage and misery. Kneeling by Collier’s side, she clasped his face in her hands. “I am yours! I have always been yours! I am faithful to you. Please! Please survive!” she sobbed, shaking her head, tortured by the sight of the mingled pain and love in his eyes.
Collier reached up and tugged at his tunic front. She saw a glimmer of silver, saw the pattern on the fringe. It was a chaen, the kind a knight-maston would wear.
Her eyes widened with surprise and misery. She stared, transfixed, as he lifted his hand and showed her the pink burn mark on his palm. He had . . . he had made his oaths? The realization only twisted the shards deeper into her heart.
“I am a maston,” Collier whispered through his anguish. “Even now.”
Maia crumpled with tears and hugged his face to her bosom, sobbing until her tears ran into his hair.
“Then you will die a maston,” the kishion said coldly. Maia recognized the look of murder in his eyes, but she only held Collier closer.
“Maia,” Collier whispered faintly. “I . . . love you.”