He nodded, teasing out some more strands of her hair with the comb. “Which is what makes it so interesting. The customs of your realm must change. Your struggles are just beginning. You have renegade earls who fear losing their possessions and estates. Men like Kord Schuyler, the Earl of Forshee. And Kranmir will do his utmost to rally the mastons against you. I imagine you will want to invest your friend’s husband with Schuyler’s title?”
The idea had never occurred to her—the notion of having that kind of power would take some adjustment, it seemed. “I suppose I can do that,” she said in an almost awed whisper.
Collier chuckled. “There are certain privileges that come with power, my dear. You can reward those who are loyal and faithful to you. That will show the people what you value and set the tone for their future behavior. Reward the mastons, and more nobles will choose to join the order.”
Maia nodded, smiling. “I will need a new chancellor as well.”
Collier tugged through a stubborn clump, easing the tangles out gently, and then continued to make long, smooth strokes. She sat patiently, enjoying this moment with him.
“That role is critical,” he said firmly. “It is someone you must absolutely trust. Your chancellor will act on your behalf. They will control who gets to speak with you and when. They will lead meetings in your absence and decide policy on your path. I kept my father’s chancellor when I became king. Integrity is paramount. He was a maston, and I knew that he would not use his power to reward himself or his friends. Do you have anyone in mind?”
Maia sighed and nodded. Their gazes met again in the mirror. “Richard Syon.”
He seemed startled but pleasantly so. “An Aldermaston?” he chuckled.
“Not just any Aldermaston. He has already shown himself to be a wise counselor, not to mention a patient and kindhearted man.” Maia also thought about his wife and her band of Ciphers. She smiled inwardly. She had not shared that secret with Collier yet—and indeed, it was not hers to share. “And he is the Aldermaston of Muirwood, the most ancient abbey of the realm.”
Collier nodded, and his eyes gleamed with approval. “I do not know of any precedent for it. He might reject the position. Or the High Seer might oppose your choice.” He winked at her.
“I shall have to ask my grandmother then,” Maia replied.
Collier finished combing her hair and gently played with some of the strands. He crouched behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder.
“And when shall we announce our marriage to the people?” she asked him, feeling her stomach ripple and thrill as she gazed at him.
“Give me a few months in Dahomey,” he whispered in her ear. “You have not yet been crowned Queen of Dahomey. I imagine you should be crowned by your own people first.”
She turned. “Without you by my side?”
He gave her a small smile. “Setting up a kingdom takes time, my love. And I have problems of my own.”
She raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue.
“When I arrived in Comoros, Simon told me that Paeiz is preparing to invade Dahomey. They think I am penniless and that my future father-in-law is too tightfisted to help. They seek to enlarge their borders at the expense of mine. I think they will be a little surprised to find us more than capable of defending our borders.” He smirked at her, but then his face grew serious. “Thanks to your grandmother,” he added softly.
She turned in the chair so she could look him in the eye. “I do not want you to leave me.”
“It will not be for long,” he promised, running his fingers down her cheek until they landed just below her forbidden lips.
A brisk knock sounded on the door, and then the mayor entered, beaming, noise from the streets outside streaming in from behind him. He looked at them askance, then grinned and winked, and bowed with a flourish.
“Your Majesty,” he said graciously. “As you can hear, the city is clamoring to see you.”
Collier crept his hand into hers, gave it a firm squeeze, and then let her go. She rose and followed the mayor to the front of the inn, where the cheers and shouts were growing louder and louder.
When she reached the door and shielded her eyes from the sun, she saw people on every cobblestone of the street, in every open window, on every roof. Everywhere there were raised caps and waving hands. A few of the escorts who would accompany her and the mayor were mounted, and she could tell they struggled to keep their horses calm in the sustained cacophony of noise.
When they saw her, it was like a rumble of thunder. The cheer deafened her.
I do not disagree that the maston tomes have gems of great wisdom contained therein. We can learn from anyone, even our enemies. Knowledge can be twisted into any shape. Did not one of the wisest men teach that the least initial deviation from the truth is multiplied later a thousandfold? That is the hallmark of the Victus. By small degrees are women wooed. By tiny corruptions will kings fall. I especially love the tome of Ovidius, who has taught all other men the art of telling lies skillfully.
—Corriveaux Tenir, Victus of Dahomey
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pardon