Richard nodded. “There is more.”
“Please, Richard, I am not sure I can bear it,” she said, stifling a moan. She hated that there were so many witnesses. Though she had learned not to bury all her emotions, it still shamed her for others to see her tears. She wanted to cover her face.
“You must,” he implored, squeezing her arm.
“Tell me,” she whispered.
“The Prince of Hautland speaks our language in a broken manner. He has been studying our speech for many months, and I can understand him passably well. I was given to understand this first by the chancellor, but I needed to hear it said by the prince himself. He claimed to already know you.”
Maia’s head jerked up. Memories she had long since suppressed came bubbling into her mind. There was a snowstorm. An avalanche. She and Jon Tayt were crossing the mountains into Hautland when they were trapped by soldiers and Dochte Mandar. There had been no choice. In her mind, she could hear the noise of hunting horns, she could feel the kystrel in her hand as she summoned an avalanche. All was white and chill after the snow took her. She remembered a rider crushing through the snow. A man in a tunic. He gripped her hand and helped pull her from the drift.
Richard’s eyes had wrinkles on the edges. “The prince’s name is Oderick. He claims that he met you during your excursion into Dahomey when you crossed from Mon into Hautland. He took you on his horse to Rostick and cared for you when you were delirious and sick. He locked you in the room of an inn to bring you help, but you managed to escape out the window.”
“Yes,” Maia said. “Yes, it is true. I did not know . . . I did not know who he was. I was not . . . myself . . . at the moment. I . . . oh, Richard! What does this mean? I feel as if my heart will burst.”
A few tears trickled down the old man’s cheeks. “The prince is in love with you,” he said hoarsely. “He has thought only of you for these past many months. He began his search for you when you were taken away on a Dahomeyjan ship. Only when news of your coronation arrived did he understand that the girl who had bewitched him was now the Queen of Comoros. He is the heir of Hautland. He is a maston, Maia. He seeks to marry you by irrevocare sigil immediately and bind your kingdoms together in power. He has the strength to blunt the attack on Comoros. In truth, Gideon does not.” Richard looked at her gravely. “This is a terrible decision you must make, Maia. I cannot make it for you.”
“But he is still . . . my husband,” Maia said, thinking again about what this news would do to Collier. She had felt herself shackled by marriage at first. It was not what she had wanted. Since childhood, she had wished to be a maston and to continue the tradition of her ancestors, binding her Family to the Medium more strongly by marrying another maston. It grieved her that Collier had chosen to deliberately fail the maston test when first he took it, but she knew he hoped and strived to pass it now—not only for her, for himself. Right now he was embroiled in a fight with Paeiz, defending his kingdom. What would he do when he learned their marriage had been invalidated?
She had betrayed and abandoned him before. She could not betray him again, no matter what the cost.
“I had not expected this,” Maia said, her voice catching on her emotions. “I am bound to him, Richard, and by more than any mere decree. I love him. I do not even know who this Hautlander prince really is . . . He is a maston, you say? You tested him?”
“I did.”
Maia shook her head. “Does he know about my past? If he did, he surely would not want me.”
Richard rubbed her arm and then patted her back. “No decision needs to be made this evening, Maia. We thought these ships were part of the armada . . . the beginning of the invasion. They may be potential allies, regardless of your decision. They still await us in their ship at the trading wharf. The skiff is here to take me back there to continue the discussion. Do we allow them to come to the palace as welcome guests? Do we accept and honor their truce flag?”
“Of course we do,” Maia said with concern. “They must be made welcome. We will discuss this on the morrow. Until then, we cannot lower our guard. This may still be a feint . . . a diversion.” Just saying the word “feint” reminded her of him, of the name he used when he posed as a commoner. She needed to get word to Simon. She needed him to tell Collier that she remained true to them and to their relationship.
Richard nodded his head.