Chapter VII • Maia

“Are you out of your bloody mind, Maia?” my blue-eyed friend says, conveying his opinions about my schemes. “Death?! It seems to me that you will be the one on the other end of that blade!”

“If Lord Edgar claims that his son, my father, slayed my mother, I believe 'tis just proper that someone does something about this injustice.”

“But assassinating the nobleman?!”

I fall silent, unable to look into my friend’s eyes.

‘Tis the early hours of the morn, and the full moon has only begun to set. Uncle Wyatt reprimanded me yesternight while drunk on ale for confronting the Davidsons. Eustace, who had apparently been aware of my intentions, is sleeping soundly with him inside the house, while my childhood friend and I are outside our doors, conversing about yesterday’s events:

Lord Edgar himself admitted that he had ordered his son, Lord Eadmond, to murder an innocent woman he had impregnated— my mother, who resorted to prostitution to feed her family— to prevent a scandal in the past. D