She beamed and smiled. “Garen Demont brought word that you were held prisoner here. We were told that they would not release you until Pareigis was set free.”
Colvin’s eyes widened with panic. “Is she free?”
“No, she is still prisoner. Deliberately, I think. I used the orb to help me find you. I set sail from Doviur several days ago and was caught in the storm.”
His eyes crinkled with worry. “How are you even here, Lia? How are you standing? When I left you…how fragile and weak you were. You could not walk. Yet I see you standing before me and I marvel at your recovery.” He pulled back from her to stare at her in amazement, but his hand strayed and grasped at hers. The warmth from his fingers sent shivers down her.
“The Abbey healed me,” Lia answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She had never felt so flustered being near him before. She savored the way he was looking at her, the attention. “Muirwood has always mended things. The Leerings there are powerful.”
His eyes suddenly narrowed, as if she had said something that pained him. “They are, I am sure.” A blackness came across his face. “But they are not as powerful as this place.” His hand squeezed hers hard. “Lia, you cannot stay here. Of all places, this is the most dangerous for you. If they caught you here, if anyone learned that you are a maston…Lia, you do not understand the danger.”
“I understand a great deal of the danger,” she replied. “Which is why I came to free you. There are no mastons left in Dahomey, I fear. If they would destroy me, they would kill you as well. I am grateful you have been preserved.”
His smile was bitter. “I am preserved because of Marciana. I had heard she was bound on a ship for Dahomey. I have been in misery because of it.” He gripped her shoulders and lowered his voice more softly. “This is the place where the hetaera make their oaths. This is the place where they are trained in the Medium. The whispers at night…they are unbearable. This place is awful beyond imagining. It is a nest of serpents. Lia, the things I have heard…the rituals that exist here. You remember the Whitsunday fair? How the Aldermaston said not to watch the dancing? It happens every night here. I am forced to watch it, Lia. I am a prisoner, but this is not my cell. This is my only refuge. And even this refuge is not safe. There is a lavender who is assigned to me. She is a hetaera, Lia. Every day she wheedles at me, trying to tempt me. The Gifting you gave me before I left, I cannot tell you how much I value it. I see Dochte Abbey for what it truly is. The encounters here are no coincidence. Every person who speaks to me is trying to wear me down, to make me violate my maston oaths. Every oath. Every one of them. They do not want me dead, Lia. That would be a mercy. They want me to join them. They want me to forsake my oaths as they have. That is what they want from me. But what they would want from you is different.” His fingers pressed hard into her shoulders. “They would turn you, Lia. They would turn you into one of them. You must not stay.”
The look in his eyes terrified her, but she strengthened her heart. “Why is it that you have not succumbed, Colvin?”
He seemed surprised by the question. Realizing he was probably hurting her with his grip, he looked abashed and drew his hands away from her shoulders while he unclasped his shirt collar of the velvet jerkin. She noticed in the dim firelight the pattern on the fabric, the ribbed shoulders, and golden threads and intricate buttons going down the front. He unfastened several buttons and then withdrew a twine necklace with a ring. The firelight flashed on its surface and she thrilled at seeing him wearing it.
“This little ring,” he answered her, pinching it between his fingers. “This is what saved me.” He stared into her eyes. “I have worn it since I left you. Every day I could feel it against my skin. It reminded me of you and Muirwood and the feelings of the Medium. It has helped me to focus my thoughts when everything about threatened to confuse me. The Dochte Mandar are powerful, but they cannot subvert your thoughts unless you let them. I was not sure how long I could survive in such a place as this. Your ring is the only way I have escaped succumbing.”
A surge of gratitude and warmth filled her. She took a tentative breath. “We must get you out of here. Do you know where…do you know where they are keeping Ellowyn?”
He shook his head. “They restrict my contact with her. The Aldermaston here – he is corrupted. I have not revealed to him that I know that. The Dochte Mandar rule. They are making everyone submit to the water ritual. There are whispers that something will happen to those who do not after Twelfth Night. It is fitting, though. Twelfth Night is the celebration of the advent of winter, of the twelve days before the darkest day of the year. Every day the sun is getting shorter and shorter. I dread the Blight will come soon after.”