Lily of the Desert (Silver and Orchids Book 4)

by Shari L. Tapscott

  She flushes, unsure how to respond.

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “All right. We’ll deal with this strange development later.” I turn to Gorin. “We have a king to save, and you have a princess to marry.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Flower for a King

  The palace in the king’s city of Kysen Okoro is nothing if not ostentatious. It stands to the south, towering over the city like a giant snowflake in the desert. It has more sleek, white spires than I can count, and it glistens in the sunshine.

  “Was it dusted with mica?” I ask Gorin as we approach.

  He shakes his head. “It’s an enchantment.”

  “Who could live here?” I shade my eyes. “I already have a headache.”

  Gorin only laughs. He’s a different person now. It’s as if the weight he’s been carrying has been lifted from his shoulders. It took nine days to travel to the king’s city, giving us only hours to spare. Tomorrow is the first day of summer.

  But we are here. And we have the lily.

  People part for us as we travel through the streets. Perhaps it’s because they recognize Gorin and have heard of his mission; maybe it’s because our scouting group’s reputation has spread throughout Elrija. I happen to think it’s because we lead Akello and his men, bound and gagged, atop their horses behind us.

  My heart is light. Our easiest expedition ended up being one of our most difficult, but we persevered, and we were successful.

  As I ride, I set my hand on my stomach. I passed my thirteenth week yesterday, and there is no hiding the news of the baby now. Avery assures me I look lovely, but he is obligated to say so. And I don’t feel lovely—I feel bloated. My trousers no longer fit, and I had to trade them for one of Adeline’s dresses.

  The seamstress asked me last night if I’ve felt the baby move yet, and now I’m constantly waiting, wondering.

  Soon, we will go home. Just the thought makes me smile. I cannot wait to leave the desert behind. Flink however, might disagree. The lesser dragons followed us all this way, stopping just outside Kysen Okoro. Halfway to the king’s city, I gave up on keeping Flink on the tether, and I let him travel with them. He stays close, never wandering too far, but I am worried.

  I’m not sure he’s going to want to leave Elrija.

  “Are the colors overwhelming?” I ask Yancey, who rides just behind me. He’s made a miraculous recovery, even if it’s disconcerting that he now looks several years younger—a side effect from the healing water in the lily.

  He shakes his head. “They faded a few days ago.”

  Nothing wrong with that. It was a bit disconcerting the way he’d watch people—it was almost as if he could read your mind. The only upside is that I think he realized that we truly like him, and he’s been a smidgen nicer.

  “You know, you have to stop almost dying on these expeditions, or I’m not going to take you anymore,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “I doubt that. No one ever seems to ask if I want to join you.”

  “Oh, don’t give me that. You love us, Yancey.”

  Shaking his head, hiding a smile, he nudges his horse ahead. Not finished, I hurry to catch up to him. “You bought the primtea for me in Malka, didn’t you? When you found out I was expecting?”

  His face darkens, and he looks embarrassed to admit he did something caring.

  “Thank you,” I say softly.

  Finally, he looks at me. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “And I’m glad you came with us.”

  I let him go, knowing this was as much of a heart-to-heart as either of us can handle. Avery takes Yancey’s place, riding next to me in the streets. He waves to several little girls, not even ten years old, who stare up at him like he’s a prince in a royal parade. They giggle to each other, besotted.

  “How do you do that?” I demand, laughing.

  The captain shrugs. “People like me.”

  Finally, we reach the glittering palace. Guards race forward to meet Gorin, and attendants and maids flood from the castle.

  “Once again, our reputation precedes us,” Avery jokes.

  But it’s Gorin they’re cheering—one of their own, a simple man who came back to save the king from certain death and marry the princess he loves. It’s a minstrel’s song come to life.

  Gorin speaks with the guards, motioning to Akello and his men, explaining their treason against Elrija. Wasting no time, the guards take them into custody.

  Avery helps me down from my horse, and our group is escorted into the palace. I carry the lily in my pack. It’s safely wrapped in a damp piece of muslin, just how Baron Malcomny instructed us to transport his beloved orchid cutting. The flower’s faded a bit, but it’s doing well considering the heat of the desert is scorching now.

  Two guards in sleeveless leather armor escort us into the throne room, but the thrones are empty.

  “Wait here,” one of the guards instructs.

  I unwrap the lily with great care and hand the flower to Gorin.

  He catches my hand before I can step away. “Lucia—thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  “No, not just for agreeing to come with me.” His dark brown eyes are earnest. “For finding me that night, for taking my charm to track down your phoenix. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be standing here.”

  A little choked up, I nod.

  Several official-looking types filter in, including a young man with a stony expression. His eyes settle on Gorin, and he looks nothing less than murderous.

  “Who’s that?” I whisper, trying to be inconspicuous about it.

  Gorin follows my eyes, and pain crosses his features. “Daniel—the prince of Guilead.”

  “Why is he here?” I hiss at a whisper. “He committed treason against Elrija.”

  “I couldn’t tell the king’s men he hired Akello—I had no proof.”

  Before I can respond, twin trumpets sound from the side of the room. Princess Falene walks out, dressed in a gown of scarlet and burnt orange. Her dark eyes search the crowd. When she finds Gorin, her cheeks flush, and she looks like it’s taking every ounce of her willpower not to run to him.

  He watches her, his expression just as intent.

  A moment later, her father joins her. He walks with the assistance of two men, though it looks as if he is so frail he could not possibly hold his own weight. His hair is white and thin, and his face and skin are deeply wrinkled. It’s obvious he’s unwell.

  Gorin lets out a startled noise, perhaps not expecting to see his monarch in such an advanced state of deterioration.

  The king’s steward comes forward, formally addressing our group. “Gorin, have you returned with the lily?”

  “I have.” Gorin steps forward, holding the flower in front of him, offering it to the king.

  Chatter breaks out around us.

  The king watches with milky eyes, but he seems alert. Eager, even. The other man at his side steps forward. “Bring it to me.”

  Gorin goes forward and bows. “Master Physician.”

  The lily is passed safely out of Gorin’s hands, and I let out a relieved breath. Our part is complete.

  “We found a journal as well. It belonged to the alchemist who worked with the flowers,” Gorin says. “You may have it if you would like.”

  The physician nods, and Yancey brings it forward, flipping to the page and nodding with respect. The man reads it over, his eyes lighting with fascination.

  “You have done well, Gorin.”

  He turns to leave, and the princess steps forward, blocking his exit. “I will join you as you make the concoction.”

  Her voice is strong; it doesn’t waver. She’s not timid or shy, and her boldness doesn’t take the physician by surprise.

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  With one last radiant glance over her shoulder at Gorin, she leaves the throne room. We are not dismissed, so we wait for the physician’s return.

  “How long do
you think it will take?” I murmur to Yancey.

  He answers with a subtle shrug. “Making a concoction of this sort is far more difficult than brewing a simple tea to cure a spider’s bite.”

  Thirty minutes pass, then fifteen more. The king’s eyes droop, and he falls asleep on his throne. Finally, the princess returns with a glowing vial in her hand. The physician walks behind her, elated. It must have worked.

  Falene kneels in front of her father, gently waking him. She murmurs words of encouragement, and then she coaxes him to take the glowing liquid.

  He winces as if the taste is bitter, but he drinks the entire vial. People crane their necks, hoping for a better look, waiting for the transformation to take place—waiting for their king to return to his youthful state.

  But nothing happens, nothing at all.

  Yancey shakes his head, frowning. “It should have worked by now.”

  “Should she have poured it over him?” I ask, remembering the effect it had on Yancey’s bite.

  “It’s an internal disease—it doesn’t work the same way.”

  We continue to wait in silence. The more time goes by, the more horrified the princess becomes. She blinks back tears, and her shoulders shake.

  After an hour, the physician looks at the steward and shakes his head. Then he sets a hand on Falene’s shoulder, offering her comfort.

  “No!” she says, breaking the silence. “It was supposed to work.” She looks right at the physician, livid. “You swore it would heal him!”

  The man looks ashen. He takes a step back, holding his hands up in apology. “I am so deeply sorry, Your Highness.”

  The king clears his throat. It’s a quiet noise, but all in the room turn to face him. He looks at Gorin, his eyes anguished. With a shaking, raspy voice, he says, “You failed, Gorin. Leave—and do not come back.”

  Without another word, the king is escorted back to his bed, and guards usher us out of the throne room.

  We failed.

  But how?

  We did everything right. We found the lily—we kept it alive. It healed Yancey—why didn’t it work for the king?

  I glance at Gorin, and then I wish I hadn’t. He’s destroyed. He walks numbly, his face void of expression.

  ***

  The tavern is dark and smoky, and the smell of ale taints the air. It’s a somber place, full of people who are nursing internal wounds and do not wish for merriment or conversation.

  Our group sits at a table in the corner, nearly silent. Adeline leans against Sebastian, looking exhausted. She gives me a reassuring smile every now and then, but her eyes are too sullen to give much life to the expression. Avery sits by my side, his hand in my lap under the table, and Esme sits next to Yancey.

  It cannot help that we’re all paired up when Gorin just lost the love of his life. Yet even though he hasn’t spoken a word since we left the palace, we’re not about to leave him.

  The door opens, but no one in the establishment bothers to look over. Word of the king’s imminent demise has spread throughout Kysen Okoro, and I wonder if the news is not partly responsible for the somber mood in the tavern.

  A woman joins our table, taking us by surprise. Her hair is covered with a dark brown shawl, and her clothes are plain. She kneels next to Gorin.

  “Falene,” he gasps as soon as he sees her face.

  “Shhh.” She glances around to see if anyone heard him. “I need to speak with you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, grasping her hand. “I tried—I swear I did.”

  She blinks quickly. “We can’t talk here. Take your friends, meet me in the gardens by the wall of climbing jasmine.”

  He nods, his expression saying he’d do anything for her. Somehow, he keeps his seat as she slips away. He downs his full tankard of ale in one long gulp. Avery raises his eyebrows, surprised.

  “Impressive,” the captain murmurs, and I elbow him lightly in the side.

  “All right.” Gorin smacks the tankard to the table with so much gusto, I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “Let’s go.”

  It feels as if we’re doing something nefarious as we slink through the city, back to the palace. If any of the guards see us, we’ll be tossed right back out. Fortunately, Gorin knows his way around the garden, and we find Falene without incident.

  The princess rushes toward Gorin as soon as she spots us, and she throws herself into his arms. Her shawl falls from her head, revealing her long black hair. Gorin clings to her like he’ll never let go, and we all avert our eyes. The moment is painful and private, and I feel as if we’re intruding on it even if we were told to come.

  When they part, the princess waves to someone in the shadows. The girl takes me by surprise, and I take a step back, unsettled that I didn’t notice her.

  “Tell them,” Falene says sternly, then she softens her voice. “Tell them so they can help.”

  “I’ve done something awful,” the girl says to the ground. She’s not very tall, though she’s older than she looked at first glance, probably sixteen, seventeen years old.

  Before the girl can continue, Avery interrupts, “Excuse me, Your Highness, but who is this?”

  “My handmaid,” Falene says, waving the question away. “Glenna, go on.”

  The girl wears a pinched expression, and she looks as if she truly loathes what she is about to say. “Falene’s father didn’t contract a rare disease.”

  Gorin’s forehead knits, and he begins to shake his head.

  “No, let her speak,” Falene says before he has the chance to interrupt. Then the princess glances at us, probably wondering if we should have exchanged some sort of pleasantries, perhaps an introduction, before we got to the subject of why she’s gathered us here in secret, in the darkest, most lone section of the palace garden. Then, as if deciding she doesn’t care, and this is taking too long as it is, she turns back to Gorin and says herself, “It’s a curse, Gorin. Not a disease.”

  Gorin looks stunned. “Who would curse the king? And why?”

  Glenna bites her lip, looking as if she’s going to cry again. “I did.”

  Avery tenses next to me, and I do my best to hide my shock. This slip of a girl cursed Elrija’s monarch? It doesn’t seem possible.

  “You don’t understand,” she continues quickly, looking ill. “Falene begged him to let her and Gorin be together; She pleaded on her knees. He wouldn’t hear of it.” She gulps. “Then I stumbled on this curse…and I thought I could control it. I never meant for it to go this far. It was supposed to age him a bit, play on his vanity. Make his hair gray, add a few age spots on his hands. But he started fading too quickly, and I tried to pull the magic back.”

  Curses deal with magic that’s not at all wholesome—like that of the sirens and wraiths. They are forbidden in Kalae; only strange, bent witches in the dark forests, mad from the magic they wield, dabble in them.

  “She believed the flower of the tales would work,” Falene continues. “It was supposed to cure anything, anything at all.”

  Yancey shakes his head and looks at the princess. “Diseases are far different from curses. Your father’s sickness is bound to him by magic.”

  Glenna turns to him. “I’ve tried to release the magic, but it clings to him like a barbed vine. Every time I attempt to pull it free, it digs in deeper. There must be someone who can help us. I’ll admit what I’ve done, even if it means my death, just to save him from this end.”

  “You cast the spell. You’re the only one who can undo it,” Yancey says to Falene’s maid.

  The princess buries her head in her hands and lets out a strangled noise.

  I step forward. “That might not be entirely true.”

  Yancey looks like he’s about to argue with me, about to grace me with his superior magical knowledge, but Sebastian, following my mental process, beats him. “Flink.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Where's the Dragon When You Need Him?

  After following us for a week and a half, we�
��ve lost the lesser dragons. Unfortunately, we seem to have lost Flink as well.

  It’s early morning, two maybe three o’clock, and we’ve searched the desert surrounding the city for hours. There’s no sign of him.

  I cover a yawn with my hand.

  “How are you?” Avery asks from atop his horse, right by my side.

  “Exhausted.” I know better than to lie to him anymore.

  Avery turns his horse back toward Kysen Okoro. “We’ll look more in the morning. You need sleep.”

  Knowing he’s right, I agree without argument. I haven’t seen the others for at least an hour. I think they’ve given up as well.

  “Flink!” I call one last time, hoping wherever the dragon is, he will hear me. I wait several moments, but he must be too far away.

  Yet as we’re making our way to the main trail, I hear a familiar chirp. I turn in the saddle, looking into the night. A dragon-shaped silhouette trots my way. Carefully, I drop from my horse and lower myself to my knees to greet the dragon. He rubs his head against my shoulder, happy to see me.

  His feral friends are with him, but they stay several dozen yards away, watching.

  “We need you tonight,” I say to him.

  And perhaps he understands because he doesn’t put up a fuss when I attach the lead to his harness. I mount my horse and turn to the city. Without resisting, Flink walks with me.

  One of the dragons, likely the rose-quartz female, calls after him, making him pause.

  “Tomorrow,” I promise him, and I give him a gentle tug.

  The dragons don’t attempt to follow us into the city, and once we near the gates, they retreat into the night.

  Avery and I take Flink back to the local caravanserai, fully prepared to wake Sebastian if needed. Luck is on our side because there is no need to rouse our friends from their sleep. Our entire group stands in the courtyard, talking in hushed whispers. It looks like they just arrived as well.

  When Gorin sees my dragon, he runs forward to greet us, but it doesn’t look as if he has good news. “We are banned from the palace. I tried to go earlier and speak with them, tell them we might have stumbled on a different solution. They wouldn’t let me enter.”