“It will, Aldermaston. Cling to that hope,” she told him.
She left the two men and rushed to Collier, who scooped her into his arms. She reveled in how strong and hale he looked—how alive. His eyes were bright as the blue sky, and in their reflection she could see the fading sunlight. She touched his face, her heart thrilling.
“Maia,” he breathed, holding her close, hugging her fiercely.
She squeezed him as hard as she could, reveling in his continued life, ignoring for just a moment the vast crowds staring at them, then she pulled away and took his hands.
“The Naestors,” he said. “They will attack tonight. We have tried to hold them back. To hold off killing them. But if they attack the abbey, we are certain they will be destroyed.” He took her hands in his and clenched them hard. She could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the worry for so many lives that would be lost. “They do not know what they are doing!”
“And so we must teach them,” Maia said. Still clinging to his hand, she turned and faced Muirwood Abbey. The light Leerings from the abbey were starting to glow, the eyes already brightening. She sensed the Leerings, felt their awareness of her, their eagerness to respond to her thoughts. The Medium swelled inside her breast and tingled down to her fingers, entwined with Collier’s.
It felt as if a huge vault were opening inside her mind, metal grating against stone. The power of the Medium unfurled from her igniting every Leering within the abbey and outside. Her mind stretched, expanding until she could see every creature gathered on the grounds, then moved past the grounds, showing her the Naestors encamped in the valleys below. Her vision went farther still, spanning the country in an instant—she could feel the lives of every man, woman, and child as if in a single heartbeat.
Maia turned, feeling the weight of the Medium crush down on her shoulders, as if she were lifting the Tor itself. She stared at the sun, the dying embers of light slipping over the edge of the world.
Make it return, she commanded in her mind.
The Leerings in the abbey obeyed her. She felt the effigies of the sun, moon, and stars brighten, their power emanating into the nascent night. Their power was joined by that of the Leerings in distant abbeys in other realms, as if they were all anchors, weighing the sun in place and preventing it from being carried off.
The light in the sky seemed to wobble and then the sun started to rise again. Not from the east, but from the west. It rose in its majesty and splendor, bathing the walls with its light and warmth.
The looks of astonishment on the faces around her made her almost smile through the strain. If Collier had not been holding her, she would have collapsed.
It made sense to her. The Naestors were from the north, a land of darkness and cold. They were a superstitious people. Nothing would startle them or convince them of the power of the Medium more than seeing the very sun they worshipped obey the maston order. The shadows began to retreat.
Gasps of surprise came from everywhere around her. And then there was singing. The choir from Assinica was singing the same anthem they had sung at her coronation. Their voices were full of the Medium, inviting and invoking it, and their wordless chant spread a melodious wave of peace and serenity.
The sun continued to rise, pulled by the Leerings embedded in the abbey walls. The night was not beginning. It was day again.
“My love,” Maia whispered to Collier, feeling her strength ebb. All she had endured came crashing down on her. Weakness broke her to pieces. She slumped against his chest, feeling the sunlight warm her cheeks as blackness carried her away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Covenant of Muirwood
Maia did not know how long she slept. She did not dream, which was in itself a blessing. As she gradually surfaced to consciousness, she sensed the soft mattress and blankets around her. The bedding smelled like the laundry soap the lavenders used at Muirwood and the scent of purple mint. She was aware of a dull, pulsing pain in her arm and shoulder as she slowly began to move. And then she felt lips press tenderly against her forehead and strong fingers entwine with her own.
“Are you awake?” Collier whispered faintly.
She blinked and saw her love hovering above her, sitting on the edge of her bed in the Aldermaston’s manor. A Leering gave off a dim light, filling the room with supple shadows.
“Tell me this is not a dream,” Maia answered, gazing up at him. She lifted her arm and saw she was wearing a nightgown. As the sleeve dropped down, she saw the ugly gashes Murer’s dagger had given her.
Collier gazed at the wounds, his expression hardening. “Did he do that to you?”
Maia knew who he meant. The kishion. “No, it was Murer. I faced her at the hetaera Leering. She is dead now. So is he.”