The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)(12)

Sabine and the girl, both wearing dirty aprons to cover their dresses, were conversing in low voices. As Maia approached, Sabine smiled warmly and quickly brushed the dirt off her hands and rose.

“There you are,” she said, shaking loose dirt from her apron. “You are done with your studies?”

“Yes,” Maia said, giving her grandmother a hug.

“I wanted to show you something,” Sabine said. Then she turned to the girl kneeling beside her. “Thank you, Cybil. It was thoughtful of you to take the time to teach me your craft.”

“My pleasure, my lady.”

Sabine took Maia’s arm and steered her a different way.

“Does she know who you are?” Maia asked softly, glancing back at the girl.

Sabine shook her head and said nothing. She pointed to a walled section of the grounds just ahead.

“What is it?” Maia asked. The wall was thick with ivy, so thick that the stone beneath could hardly be seen. All the walls were quite high, and one corner had a roof edge visible from below. They walked along the path to the portion of the wall with the sloping roof.

“Your mother had this built,” Sabine said, nodding toward it. “It was her private garden. They call it the Queen’s Garden. She did not allow anyone in here except the gardener. It was her place of refuge. Her solace.”

As they approached, Maia noticed a sturdy wooden door hidden behind the drapes of ivy, and felt the presence of a Leering. As she approached, its eyes began to glow in warning. She felt a pulse of fear start inside her.

“It will obey you,” Sabine said, “for you are of her blood. She built this garden in the hope that you would come study at Muirwood one day. She would often come here and spend hours inside, thinking of you.”

Maia’s heart pulsed with sadness. But it was also comforting to hear how much her mother had loved her. She stared at the small carving set into the stone beside the door and silenced it with her mind. The stone slowly moved, making a grinding noise.

“It is open now,” Sabine said, pushing on the door.

As it opened, the fragrance of flowers gushed from the gap and filled Maia’s nose with a pleasant perfume. The garden was beautifully tended, with low stone benches, boxes to add a variety of heights, and beautiful trees and trimmed hedges. There were flower boxes everywhere, each filled with a different varieties of rosebushes.

Sabine took Maia’s arm as they explored the garden together. The front corner near the door was covered by a sloping roof, providing a small covered shelter for when it rained. The walls were high enough that sounds from the grounds outside disappeared and only the trilling of the birds nesting in the branches could be heard.

“It is lovely,” Maia said with a smile, patting her grandmother’s arm. “Did she choose all the plants herself?”

“Yes, every one. It is yours now, Maia. I spent a little bit of time today tending it. There are weeds to pull and hedges to trim. That will be your job while you are here. I thought you would like it.”

Maia did. It would be a refuge, a place that was her own. She touched one of the walls of the flowerbeds, feeling the grainy texture of the stone. Warmth for her mother glowed like an ember in her bosom. “It is perfect.”

“I have been mulling something today,” Sabine said. “I hope it is not uncomfortable for you, but I wanted to discuss it. Let me know if it is too painful.”

Maia turned and looked at Sabine curiously. “What is it?”

“Your marriage.”

The word sent a shard of pain through her left breast. Maia bit her lip.

“If it is too painful . . .”

“No, it is all right. What do you wish to know?”

Sabine held her hand and walked with her around the footpath inside the garden. “Based on what you told me on the Holk, your wedding happened rather quickly. It was in the King of Dahomey’s tent, it was performed by a Dochte Mandar, and there were multiple witnesses. In my mind, it is a valid ceremony, and you made your promise.” She sighed. “It is not what I would have wished for you. King Gideon of Dahomey never passed the maston test. I learned from the Aldermaston of his abbey that he had no real intent to pass it. My understanding is he spent more time trying to escape his studies than he did seeking to gain wisdom from them.” She fell silent. “But what is done is done, Maia. As your grandmother, I may not like your . . . choice in a husband, but there is no denying he is your husband. I would advise you not to tell anyone. I would also advise you not to pretend you are free. There are many young men here at the abbey who may take a fancy to you.”

Maia was surprised that the first emotion she felt in response to her grandmother’s words was relief. She had wondered, and worried, if the marriage would be easily annulled because of the circumstances. Maia felt bound to Collier, even still, and worried how he might feel about their union. She had never considered herself free to choose another.

“I think not,” Maia said. “I am quite a pariah already.”

Sabine squeezed her hands. “Yes. But you are also the Princess of Comoros. There are powerful men in this kingdom who would seek to use you to dethrone your father.”

“I suppose I had not thought much about it,” Maia said uncomfortably.

“It is not a supposition,” Sabine replied. “While your mother was here, she received several visitors. Many came in secret and urged her to rise up against her husband. Even though she was a foreign queen, from Pry-Ree, they told her that the people respected her because she was faithful to her maston vows. They admired her example and the dignity and elegance with which she had suffered the humiliations of her position. They offered to summon armies to fight for her. These stirrings of rebellion were no small concern for your father.”