“Good. Do you have a man whose discretion you can trust? One of your house guard?”
I didn’t. Even Gabe, who regarded me with the most affection of any of my father’s men, would not keep secrets from his lord for me. Nevertheless, I feared to let this chance escape me. “I do.”
Natalia halted beside us, listening without comment. Adrian continued, “Then slip from your house an hour past moonrise tomorrow with your man and horses. I’ll send someone to guide you.”
“The Greyshor?” his sister queried.
He nodded, stormy eyes still fixed on me. “The Greyshor.”
Natalia and I returned to the salon to find the game still in lively contest. We reinserted ourselves as discreetly as possible, though I caught a few eyes noticing our return. Adrian made a point to enter loudly through the main door nearly ten minutes later, a fresh bottle of wine in hand. A cheer rang out as the final victor was crowned and the game board cleared away. The cluster of musicians in the corner, until now largely ignored and overpowered by the din, struck up a lively tune at Lord Yuri’s urging. Clearly drunk, he tugged his laughing wife off her couch and spun her about the room. Several others joined in, and my elegant chaperone swept me into the fray. We must have looked ridiculous, all swirling skirts and girlish laughter, but it was wonderful.
“Give them something else to talk about,” she whispered in my ear.
The pace of the music slowed and Natalia was stolen from me by her younger brother, Alec. I began to make my way back to the couches when Adrian’s hand caught mine, pulling me gently back to square up opposite him. Our rigid frames circled the floor, cautious to keep a chaste gap between us and our faces schooled to neutrality. To any observer, we must have been the vision of propriety.
In the small space separating his body from mine, a silent storm raged, all lightning and swirling waters. I was acutely aware of his breath, his hand at the small of my back, the pulse at his throat, and his eyes - gods, his eyes - locked on mine. The heat of him radiated through his hands and into me. For the first time, I noticed the smell of him, salt breeze and oiled wood.
The music ended far too soon and I was claimed by a few other Van Dryns before the evening was called to a close. The Lord and Lady of the House thanked me for my company, a nicety I fervently returned. Yuri’s predatory eyes gleamed. They believed they had won me. We’ll see. Natalia escorted me to the front door. Adrian and Alec awaited us there with the chamberlain and my two guardsmen who looked no worse for the wear.
“It was so lovely to get to know you,” Natalia beamed as a servant helped me into my cloak. “I do hope we can spend more time together. Court can be a terrible bore without the benefit of a good friend.”
I smiled sincerely at her. “I’d like that very much.”
Alec and Adrian, who had been talking in hushed tones, offered me crisp bows.
“Until our next engagement, Miss Elivya.” Stormy eyes glittered with amusement as I stepped out into the night.
Chapter 6
I slept poorly, once again tormented with scandalous dreams of a silken voice and rough hands. When I woke, the sun had barely begun to peek its head above the horizon. Rubbing my bleary eyes, I dressed in breeches and a thick tunic and grabbed my sword belt. The garden was already occupied when I arrived. Quintin spun through his morning exercises, ignoring me until he had finished.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked as he sheathed his twin swords.
I shrugged. “Would you spar with me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Where is James?”
My lip curled involuntarily. “He’s no longer interested in humoring me.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.
“Probably for the best, considering.” Quintin gestured to my freshly-healed ribcage. The wound had closed and the stitches had been painstakingly removed, but it would leave a scar.
I scowled at the memory but said nothing. His reverence for my discarded blade stuck in my mind, as did his eyes on my bare back in the kitchen. As the silence stretched between us, I grew impatient waiting for his refusal. “Forget I asked, I’ll practice on my own.”
“Like hell, you will,” he grumbled, drawing once more.
In the end, I found my father’s reticent armsman to be a patient and gracious sparring companion. The Tuvrian style was significantly different from the one I’d been taught, and as such, I was hard-pressed to contest him. With constant gentle reminders, I spent the session observing and reacting rather than attempting to find any specific opening.
“Open your mind to everything around you. The grass, the breeze, the tension of my grip. Your body knows what to do, you just have to let go.” For me, surrendering to mindless instinct was impossible. I’d spent my entire life learning control.
Instead of becoming frustrated or giving up on me, he changed tactics and we worked on technical drills until I could barely lift my sword. Sweating profusely in my woolen tunic, I held up one hand to request a reprieve as I gasped the frigid air that burned my lungs. Quintin was tireless.
“Enough for one day?” he asked, barely winded.
I nodded, unable to catch my breath sufficiently to form words. He slipped his blades effortlessly into the baldric on his back as I sheathed my own with significantly less grace. Meeting his eyes, I managed a weary smile, recognizing that he had set aside his own strict conventions to humor me for a single morning. “Thank you.”
Favoring me with a small smirk and a nod, he disappeared into the house.
Needless to say, Shera was aghast at my disheveled state when I returned to my room. She stripped my sweat-drenched and half-frozen clothes from me and rushed me into a hot bath. I soaked languorously in the steaming water, feeling purged in body and soul from the morning’s exercise.
“I take it your dinner at the Van Dryn manor was pleasant?” she chatted as she massaged oils into my hair.
“Mm.” I considered, and then decided. “Shera, do you think you could help me with something?”
She perked immediately. “Of course, miss! Do you need me to deliver another letter?”
I shook my head. “Nothing like that, no. I need to talk to Quintin alone, without anyone else knowing.”
I felt her tense. “My, miss, you have moved on.” To her credit, she made a good effort to keep the disapproval from her voice.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’d have more luck seducing an armoire.” We both chuckled at that. “Truly, though, do you think you can arrange it?”
She was silent a moment, thinking. “Greta and the kitchen hands go to the market just after lunch is cleared each day. That part of the house should be empty for an hour or more. If you can make it there without being seen, I can bring him to you.”
I spent the midday meal relaying the evening’s events to my parents, though I left out any mention of the solarium. My mother thoroughly interrogated me about every conversation, every detail. When I repeated my exchange with Lord Yuri at the dinner table, she gaped at me in horror and my father burst out laughing.
“Iron spine, indeed! Well done, lass.” I glowed under his regard.
When the meal was cleared away, I busied myself in the study for a half hour before slipping down into the kitchen to wait. Footsteps approached and the door swung carefully open to admit a tip-toeing Shera and an obviously annoyed Quintin. The careful mask tightened on his face when he saw me, and I watched him calculate the situation.
“Thank you, Shera.” I kept my voice low. She excused herself and I heard her timid footsteps retreat down the hall.
“This is all a bit untoward, miss,” he muttered quietly.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it this morning,” I pointed out.
“That’s different.”
I considered him a moment, wondering if I’d made a mistake, but no. Of all my options, he was the best choice. “I’ve need of an escort.”
His face betrayed nothing. “Gabe typically handles outings-”
“I�
��ve need of protection,” I clarified a bit impatiently.
He considered that a moment. “Are you in danger?”
“Not yet, perhaps not at all, but I would feel better with my father’s best swordsman close at hand.”
“I’m sure he would gladly assign me to accompany you should you ask.”
“He will not be aware of my absence.” I let that settle in the air. “Nor can anyone.”
Despite his best efforts at neutrality, he looked scandalized. “Such a thing is dishonorable. It goes against my oath to your House.”
“Your oath is to protect and serve House Lazerin,” I challenged. “I am the future of that bloodline. Your pledge is as much to me as it is to my father.” I watched him battle internally. “I’m going with or without you. I’d rather it be the former.” A long moment stretched between us before he turned and left without a word. Shera reappeared in the kitchen moments later, her wide brown eyes waiting expectantly.
“Follow him,” I instructed. “If he meets with my father, tell me. If he doesn’t...tell him to meet me in the stables an hour past moonrise, in plain clothes and properly armed.” She nodded and disappeared into the house after him.
Night fell and dinner passed without much ado. My parents inquired about my interest in several invitations and we chatted amiably as I tried not to constantly glance at the setting sun outside the windows. When the dishes were finally cleared and I excused myself, the last lights of day were disappearing beyond the horizon. I measured my steps carefully, lest any eyes be taking note. As I closed my bedroom door quietly behind me and threw the bolt, Shera sprang into action. After refreshing myself in the basin, she helped me dress in a simple black woolen gown that laced up in front and back over a white cotton shift.
“What about jewelry?” I asked.
She shook her head. “If you’re going where I think you’re going, it will only draw attention. The kind you don’t want.”
“And my hair?”
She had brushed it out but left it down and completely unadorned. “Too much attention,” she repeated. “You’re trying to blend in, remember?”
I was loath to meet with Adrian in such a state, but Shera knew what she was about and I trusted her judgment.
Barefoot, we stole cautiously to the rear servant’s entrance, the nearest exterior door to my bedroom. With Shera scouting ahead, we managed to avoid encountering anyone, lacing up our shoes in the frigid cold and making our way to the stables in the dark. Valor’s head hung low as he dozed in his stall. He perked when we approached, and I saddled him as silently as I could. The other horses stirred and watched us with their big, curious eyes.
His platter-sized hooves stomped the cobblestones so loudly, I was sure we’d be discovered, but there was nothing for it. We had to get out of the courtyard. I turned to Shera and she shoved a bundle at me.
“Hurry, miss, put these on.”
My eyes and hands found the slim belt with a knife and coin pouch. “Where did you-”
“Later, miss,” she pressed impatiently. As I secured the belt about my waist, she threw a simple woolen cloak around my shoulders. “Go,” she urged with a solemn nod. “He’s waiting.”
We picked our way carefully out the servants’ gate, Shera latching it quietly behind us. Outside the walls, I spotted two mounted figures and approached them. Quintin sat his brown gelding looking supremely unhappy. The other face belonged to Alec, who beamed at me from a long-legged black mare.
As we set off into the city, I took in the sleepy asymmetry of Litheria. Street by street, elegant manors gave way to fine shopfronts, which in turn gave way to increasingly more humble market stalls with houses above. I grew nervous as the streets narrowed and the buildings around me turned to wood and daub. Dark alleys perforated the tightly-clustered structures, the walkways littered with refuse. It stank. The further we went, the more shadowy figures I spotted on the streets. Groups of men in ragged cloaks skulked in alleys. Women with too much cosmetic cooed at passersby, hiking their skirts despite the cold. I found myself increasingly grateful for Quintin’s presence.
I noticed Alec eyeing me from his saddle. “Where are we going?” I asked, though from Shera, I was fairly certain I already knew the answer.
“It’s not much farther,” he assured.
The narrow streets abruptly opened onto a vast cobblestone wharf, massive wooden docks stretching their fingers out into the bay. The frigid breeze off the river was blessedly fresh, though the smell of refuse was replaced by the faint stench of fish. Several of the large, flat-bottomed barges rested in the water, and groups of fleeting figures darted and stumbled in and out of the various nearby establishments. We picked our way down the wharf and back up one of the streets before Alec stopped in front of a shabby lean-to lined with straw and attended by a scrappy boy in a too-large hat. A ragged nag hung her head at her lead-line under the patchwork roof. I balked internally. Oh, no. I’m not leaving Valor here.
The lad hopped to attention and Alec dismounted, exchanging a few words with the boy, who nodded earnestly and rushed to the back of the rickety structure. Shifting a barrel, he grabbed at a few knotholes in the wood and gave a hearty tug. A large panel gave way and swung outward, revealing a gaping maw of darkness.
“Come on,” Alec urged, leading his mount toward the passage. After exchanging a glance with Quintin, I gathered my courage and dismounted to follow. The space that opened up before me was vast and dimly lit with a sparse spread of oil lanterns. A warehouse? Giant stacks of crates, barrels, bundles of wool and wood, and all other manner of trade goods were collected under that immense wooden roof. We trailed Alec to one end, where several other fine horses had been corralled with a water trough and thick, fresh straw.
With reluctance, I relinquished Valor to a neatly attired young man who bobbed a polite bow. I watched as he went to work unsaddling my prized stallion and kicked myself, realizing how foolish I’d been to bring him instead of one of the simple household mounts.
“Don’t worry, miss,” Alec assured, stepping up beside me. “Tommy and his boys will take excellent care of him.”
Quintin scanned the vast space with unease, his hand resting on his dagger. Several yards away, I noticed a pair of men painting over a marker on some barrels. As I absentmindedly followed Alec, I watched as they replaced it with a different painted seal.
Before I could make out the sigil, we stepped out into the night. Our destination lay back toward the wharf, though not directly on the docks. A grubby tavern sign creaked in the wind, a faded ship with gray sails over the equally faded name: The Greyshor.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside, immediately hit with a cacophony of sounds and smells: cooked meat and spilled ale, salt and grease, and fish and sweat. A crowd of raucous men and a surprising number of women packed the establishment. A drummer and a pair of fiddlers reeled in the corner, and the room echoed with laughter. It reminded me with a pang of nights in the garrison hall with the cavalry. No one seemed to notice our entrance.
We wove our way to the far corner of the room, where a large table sat positioned near the roaring fireplace. A giant copper pot hung over the flames, a stalwart matron minding the aromatic stew within.
Alec slumped into a chair beside his sister as Adrian rose from his to offer me a courteous bow and a reserved smile. Tankards crowded the table. “I’m glad you could join us.” He stepped aside to allow me to slide into the corner seat behind his. Quintin took up a post against the wall a few feet away, scowling around the room. Adrian eyed him and leaned in toward me. “Will he do that all night, do you think?” I couldn’t help but laugh. My dour guard offered me a disapproving glare before resuming his vigil.
Around the table, young Van Dryns watched me carefully with anticipation. I realized then, that they were likely not aware of my summer at the Laezon garrison, for which I breathed a sigh of relief. To them, I was simply a female heir, hardened by society, who had never rubbed elbows with common folk such
as this. They expected me to falter at the unfamiliarity of it all. To expose a weakness. I stifled a grin. “So,” I offered, tossing a few coppers on the table. “Another round, then?”
The mead was passable and the fish stew hearty. After a few rounds, the better part of our company jumped up to join the crowd in a lively jig. I leaned back in my chair and watched, glad for a moment to speak with Adrian alone.
“I take it you come here often?” I asked him.
“It’s the one place we don’t have to stand on ceremony,” he confessed.
“Don’t you worry about gossip?” Despite having shed their distinctive silks, the Van Dryn beauty was hard to conceal.
“Most of these men are ours.”
“Yours?”
He nodded, eyes sweeping the room. “Darian barges run the river route bringing goods from the northern and southern ports into the inlands. Many of the captains are former officers of the coastal patrol fleet. Most spend a few years on the tall ships and then resign their commissions to work the river.”
“So hunting pirates isn’t for everyone, then?” I joked.
He graced me with a wry smile. “It’s a dangerous life. Men settle down, start a family. They have people who rely on them to stay alive. It’s easier to do that on the river. And more profitable, if you know where to look.”
Subdued, I eyed him with candor. “And you? Why aren’t you afraid?”
He laughed. “You give me too much credit, miss! I am certainly not without fear.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because it is my duty. Because it has been the dominion of my family since Adulil walked the earth.”
“And because you have no family to leave bereft,” I offered.
“Even then, my charge does not end. Alec is destined for the North Sea, to take my grandfather’s place as Royal Admiral of the King’s Navy.” He flashed me a regretful smile. “That leaves the southern coast to me.”
I fell silent, considering the weight of that burden. It humbled my own. Surely, he carried it well, but to be bound in perpetuity to one life, and a dangerous one at that….
A Crown of Lilies Page 10