The Blight of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 2)

She looked back at him with an impish smile. “What were you afraid of, Colvin? That I would throw myself at you? Twist a promise of marriage out of you if you told me that?”

He looked at her, bemused.

“Thank you for telling me your true feelings,” she continued. “They are sacred to me. I will treat them so. Yet I am troubled by something. You say that we can never be together…”

“We always have a choice in our actions, Lia,” he answered blackly. “But we cannot choose the consequences those choices will produce. I can forsake my heritage. I can forswear my oaths. But I would be miserable if I did. The part of me that longs to live out my days with a brood of children, away from wars and violence clashes with the fact that every maston is being killed and it would only be a matter of time before we were discovered. In giving you the key to my heart, I am asking you to set me free. To not bind me in any way that prevents me from fulfilling my oaths or my duty. You will always know, to your last moments, that it was you that I loved. No one else.”

It was gratifying to hear the words, but Lia was nothing if not stubborn. “But why, Colvin? Why must the future be as you say? I do not want you to forsake your duty. Not for me. Why insist that it must end like that?”

He sighed heavily and gazed down at the floor.

“Look at me,” she said. He obeyed. She met his gaze. “You are right about something. I am not a hetaera.”

The look of shock that crossed his face almost made her laugh.

“Be at peace, Colvin. Let me explain how I know that word and what they are. The Queen Dowager is a hetaera. But I am not. I am a maston too, you see.” She smiled at him, pleased at the reaction on his face at her revelation. “I took the oaths after you left with Edmon and your sister. The Aldermaston conferred them. Many of my…my family passed the maston test when they were young.”

Colvin’s eyes bulged. He sat straight up, his eyes flooding with hope. “Truly, you are a maston, Lia?”

She nodded. “I crossed the Apse Veil. I wear the chaen.” She timidly held out her palm and showed him the scar that the white stone had burned there. He reached out, staring at it intently, but would not touch it. His expression was full of contradictions – hope, fear, longing, joy, the realization of the possibility that her ancestors were mastons. “You should see yourself. Why are you so shocked? Is the thought of a wretched-maston so horrible to you?”

He shook his head. “But what of your family? You never knew about them. It is almost too much to hope that you will discover who they are.”

“The Aldermaston has given me some clues. You and I – we both know they are dead. I tried to use the orb to find them and it did not work. Remember? The Aldermaston said that many of the nobles of Pry-Ree passed the maston test when they were young. He implied that I may be related to the royal house. A cousin of Ellowyn, perhaps.” She looked at him keenly and gently took his hand in hers. “So before you continue with your thoughts that we can have no future, would you leave a little portion of your mind open enough to consider that we just might? You said before that you will only marry a maston. That is my goal too. You also said that you would only be married with an irrevocare sigil. Since we do not know for certain who either of my parents were, perhaps there is just enough reason to hope that one of them came from a line which was bound that way.”

He looked doubtful. It was plain on his face.

She let go of his hand and glanced down at the orb with a flush of timidity. “I imagine there would need to be evidence before an Aldermaston would willingly perform a binding ceremony. There is time. I am only fifteen. What I am trying to ask of you, as delicately as I can, is that you give me a chance to prove my lineage.”

“But what if…?”

She put her fingers on his mouth to hush him. His breath was warm. His lips were soft, except for the stubble. “If there is a tome in an Abbey somewhere in this realm or any realm that can prove my parentage, then I will find it.” She let her hand fall and blushed at the promising look he gave her. “I am very motivated to try at least.”

He was quiet and thoughtful.

“Now it is my turn,” she said, looking down.

“What?”

“It is my turn to make a confession.”

He moved a little closer, his eyes curious and guarded. “There is more? You surprised me already with your news of being a maston.”

She reached around and fetched the bow sleeve and laid the weapon across her lap. Looking down at it, she smoothed the woolen fabric. “The Aldermaston did not want me to tell anyone. Only he and Maderos know the full truth. You have shared a secret with me that could ruin you. I do the same in return.” She looked up timidly. “The morning…of Winterrowd. The king was watching the battle from a small hill, surrounded by his knights. It was…near to my hiding place. He was in disguise, clutching the standard of Pry-Ree.” She bit her lip, pausing. “I am the one who loosed the arrow that made him fall. The Medium warned me to do it.” She stroked the hard curve of the bow beneath the sleeve. “I do not think I could have hit him from that distance without the Medium guiding me. When it was done, I fainted. Maderos was there when I awoke, engraving in his tome what had happened. I do not think it was an accident that I was there, Colvin. You were supposed to bring me.”