Marciana swallowed. “Do you think…that Colvin…? Do you have any sense, Lia?”
She frowned. “I cannot see his future. Any more than I can see mine or yours. There is nothing but fog, like the mists that often settle over these grounds. My Gift only works when I benefit others, not myself.”
“But in your heart,” she pressed in a low voice, her eyes desperate for assurance. “You said Hillel…that she was a hetaera. Do you think he resisted her?”
Lia’s heart twisted with pain. “I do not know. I cannot think on it without getting ill. They were to be married at Billerbeck. He believes I am dead. I had hoped to find him here at Muirwood.” She clenched her jaw and stifled her feelings. “We can hope, Ciana. That is all that we can do for him now.”
Tears trickled down Marciana’s cheeks. She nodded and Kieran put his arm around her shoulder, hugging her. She leaned against him, trying to master her feelings.
“Goodbye, Lia,” she whispered. “Would we were sisters. Thank you for saving me from Dieyre. Thank you for saving me from what you suffered at Dochte Abbey.” She put her hand on Lia’s arm. “I would not have been as strong as you.”
They hugged each other one last time and then Lia watched the group begin the slow walk towards the ring of oaks surrounding the grounds and then towards the Bearden Muir. The lake that had surrounded the Abbey had long since receded. The Abbey defenses were broken.
As she watched them go, she turned her gaze to the Tor and the dark duty that awaited her there.
* * *
As Lia climbed the Tor, her heart grew more and more heavy as she neared the charred stumps of the twin maypoles at the peak. Her stomach clenched with agony at seeing the blackened shells, the stick-like figures still chained there. The last time she had climbed the Tor, she was with Colvin on a stormy day hunting Seth’s footprints with the Cruciger orb. The wind whipped about her, moaning softly against her ears.
The evidence of death lay ahead of her, but the memories of hearing what had happened tortured her soul.
She had woven together the threads of story in strands from everyone in the kitchen while the storm had raged over the Hundred. Marciana and Kieran had been escorted from Comoros but ambushed. Since Lia had Gifted him, his recovery had been startlingly dramatic. As Dieyre’s men attacked and began killing the knights who escsorted them, he had fended the attackers off, killing them all and stealing their tunics and horses to disguise their movements as they rode back to Muirwood. Upon reaching the Abbey, they had hidden as wretcheds, wearing simple clothes and helping with simple tasks to aid in their disguise. Edmon had finally summoned the courage to face the maston test and when he learned it was more about oaths and promises than knowledge learned from tomes, he had encouraged Sowe to face it as well. It was Marciana’s wish that she be adopted into her Family when she learned of Colvin’s promise. The Aldermaston permitted it, knowing they were approaching the end of his authority at the Abbey.
The day after they had passed it, the Aldermaston of Augustin arrived, claiming to be the new Aldermaston. He presented his charge and then summarily dismissed Demont and his mastons from the Abbey under his new authority. With the new Aldermaston against him, Demont had left and they had heard he was murdered by poison as he journeyed to Comoros to take control of the city and prepare for an invasion.
With a new Aldermaston, the Queen Dowager was finally released from her captivity and she summoned her vassals to Muirwood to bring her safely away. But the entourage did not leave immediately as they had promised. Each day brought another delay. Her power and influence continued to grow, much to the surprise of the new Aldermaston who found her to be intractable and unwilling to simply walk away. He also began to discover that the wealth he had suspected to exist at Muirwood was as elusive as the wind. There was no treasury, no hoarded funds supporting Demont’s army. He realized at the end that he had given up a wealthier Abbey for a lesser one.
On Twelfth Night, both Aldermastons were executed on the Tor. They were bound to maypoles and forced to watch the Abbey below begin to burn. From what Lia had heard, the Aldermaston of Augustin had howled and wept and begged for his life. The true Aldermaston had silently faced his death without a word after Seth, his hunter, had been stabbed by soldiers while trying to defend his master. His body had been left on the lawn, but it had vanished with the storm.
Lia looked up at the charred remains of the Aldermaston. She knelt before the post, knelt in the soaked ashes, and she sobbed. She had lost two fathers in her life and she was not sure which hurt most – the one she had never met or known, or the one who had been prepared for her by her true father. In anguish, she had let the others leave for Pry-Ree, never able to tell them who she really was. Somewhere in the world was a tome, written by her father, sealed with a binding sigil. Until it was found, she would be forever silenced. Her true story would never be known. It was the same for the Aldermaston. He had died in disgrace, accused of horrid crimes he had never committed.