Dearest Elivya,
Our time in Petrion was too short. I have so much I wish I’d said to you. The world is not what it was, and I fear there is little room left for tender moments. I am sorry to not have you here at my side, but glad at the same, as this has become a grueling and brutal duty. The tide of refugees has slowed somewhat, though the presence of the marauder fleet has only increased in the last months. Our conscripted privateers have helped a bit, packs of brawlers set loose on the open sea, but they can be difficult to manage at times. They lack the loyalty and discipline of our core fleet.
I have returned to port with a shipload of civilians to find a windfall of good fortune. The King has loaned us ten new galleons fresh from the shipyards in Dax. They are larger and better-equipped than our frigates and will help take the brunt of the rescue efforts, freeing us to focus on driving this pirate king back into whatever festering hole spawned him.
I wish you were here. I’ve only a day to spare as we re-outfit before returning to the fleet, but my heart aches to think of what we might have done with it. Know that I will do everything in my power to come back to you and make you my wife. We will have long winter months to begin working on our horde of sea children.
All my love,
Adrian
I smiled, tears on my cheeks, and kissed the paper. He was alive. My mother watched me furtively over her own letter. I offered her the page, but she waved me off.
“Those words are for you alone, my dear. I only need the summary.” When I’d provided as much, she smiled, exhaling with satisfaction. “Finally, some good news.”
“And yours?” I asked, nodding to the paper in her hand.
“Your father is concluding his business and returning to us.”
“How long?”
“A few weeks, perhaps.” Her face was guarded.
“What more?” I pressed.
She fidgeted with the missive and set it aside. “The illness has reached Laezon.”
My floating heart crashed to the floor. “How many?” I whispered.
Solemn eyes fixed on me. “A few of the outer villages so far. Samson is keeping an eye on it.” It seemed ridiculous to expect a soldier, no matter how seasoned, to be able to do anything against an illness. My mother was confident, though, and I expected she had greater faith in my father’s captain than I did. Perhaps it was just a matter of keeping order. In that case, he was the perfect man for the job.
My father and his retinue returned three weeks later. We stood in the courtyard to welcome them, every face haggard and worry-worn, more so than the journey alone would warrant. Among the retainers, James and Seth filed in through the gates, red-brown hair and matching freckles caught in the afternoon sun. James’ eyes met mine, an old thread tugging on my gut. He looked away quickly, focusing instead on his work. He swung from his saddle with alacrity, handing Seth his reins as he moved to take Midnight from my father. The old black warhorse flicked his ears but allowed himself to be led off to the stable. To my delight, Valor had made the journey as well, plodding along behind Seth on a lead line. He looked irritated and fat, which made me smile.
My father embraced us both, ushering us inside and into the study, where he laid out the state of conditions back home. To our relief, the sickness didn’t seem to be spreading. Two villages had been decimated, but there didn’t seem to be any new reports of infirmary in any others. Samson was maintaining the garrison, working with the summer’s new conscripts and making plans to call back more seasoned soldiers for patrol. The Lazerin cavalry would be at full force before spring.
Briare and Arradon had both been warned, though it took some convincing. My father had to pay a visit to the House of Ardontus himself, spending several days with Lord Miko and his wife Cheza to convince them of the impending threat. Ero and Ila had been easier to sway and had helped to turn their parents’ minds to our cause, if for nothing more than the excitement of taking part in some grand epic. The garrison at Arradon was small, but their influence was significant and they had sworn to put their resources to good use, rallying neighboring bannermen.
House Briad was easier to bring aboard. With the Royal Physician in disgrace, the lesser house of Caerus was ready and willing to believe our accounts of the King’s decline. With their skills in engineering, their manor near the western border held a defensive position that rivaled any other. At my father’s request, they agreed to begin construction on a number of defensive engines and build up their own forces.
As for Frii, missives were sent to the commander of the Freyjan forces. Unlike the other lesser Houses, they had no noble family. The leader of the province was their General, elected by a council of high-ranking captains once every ten years, or when the General died. Generals, once chosen, often served until death. Such had been the way of the Freyjan people since the original outpost had upended Tuvrian tradition, the women taking up arms to defend their homes when the men had been all but decimated by the border wars nearly six hundred years ago. Several letters went unanswered. Finally, shortly before my father departed Laezon to return to the city, a final courier delivered a response.
We stand ready.
It was enough for my parents. The Freyjan forces knew of the threat from Hydrax. It was all we could do, to warn them.
For our part, my mother and I filled him in on all he’d missed during his time away. He, too, was disturbed at my involvement of Aubrey, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He watched my mother with a carefully guarded expression when she told him of our deal with Tommy, but said nothing. My news of Adrian’s reinforcements was a bolster to our collective morale, and he nodded his satisfaction.
The pieces were in motion. Now we just had to keep the board from tipping over.
I was dismissed for the evening, and made my way obediently from the room, my steps echoing down the hall. I removed my slippers and doubled back barefoot, pressing my ear against the latched door.
“-could you possibly trust him?” my father’s muffled voice seeped through the wood.
“I needed his network.”
“After everything he’s done?” His anger reverberated through the dense panels.
I heard the rustle of my mother’s gown as she paced. “The vast majority of my resources went west to help you.” There was a defensive edge to her voice. “I couldn’t wait. We had to get ahead of it. Tommy was my only option.”
A long pause filled the air.
“And Quintin?” Another silence, followed by the sound of my mother sitting abruptly on the couch. “Still?” he pressed.
“Nothing yet.” Her soft voice was barely audible. I strained to hear.
“Have you told Elivya?”
“She doesn’t need to know,” she replied with firm resolve.
“She should at least know he didn’t abandon her.”
“I need her focused. She’s too easily distracted.”
“She’s doing her best,” he countered gently.
Her voice fell, and I heard some fabric shift. “I never wanted anything like this to fall on her.”
A creak followed more rustling, and I guessed my father had settled onto the couch beside her. “We could still send her away. To Syraci, perhaps.”
“The crossing is too dangerous right now. I won’t send her anywhere without Quintin. Besides, I need her here. I can’t do this on my own.”
Her words hit my heart with a pang. She’d never admit as much to me.
“You’re not alone.” His voice was tinged with hurt.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Damien.”
“I know.”
Silence followed, permeated by quiet sounds of intimacy. I withdrew, slipping back down the hall.
Chapter 14
It was late summer when Selice fell ill. News of it spread quickly, tactfully leaked from the palace in a manner that left little doubt as to its intent. A surge of worry and public prayer seized the city. Priests of Adulil made their way into Litheria, organizing vi
gils and leading prayers in public squares, pleading with the Mother and our sacred ancestors to save our beloved Princess.
The Book of Days teaches us that all things simply are, no matter how painful. The balance of the world is one far beyond the scope of one person, one family, one village. It is the great breathing being that intertwines every bird, every stone, every blade of grass. Our sacred charge is life itself, in all its joys and miseries. Still, we are human, and every one of us has been known to entreat our gods in the darkest of times.
All around the city, shrines appeared on street corners and in parks, filled with flowers, candles, incense, sheaves of wheat, and other offerings to Adulil. My parents and I held our collective breath in terror. If she died, all our carefully laid plans would be for naught. It was a miserable ten days.
I decided, amid the uncertainty, to visit James. I’d not seen him in a year and a half, and I held out hope that his temper may have cooled in my absence. I found him in the stable, repairing a bridle. He looked up at my entrance and flashed me a friendly grin. My heart leapt. Perhaps he had found it in himself to forgive me.
“James,” I breathed his name.
“Hello, horse thief.” He turned back to his work.
I smiled. He’d not called me that in a long time. “I was glad to see you return with my father.”
His smile faltered. “I was loath to leave home, but Seth needed me. Not enough experienced hands here. Erik and my father are keeping a handle on the foaling this fall. Lots of mares ready to drop when we left.”
“I hear Samson has his hands full as well,” I continued conversationally, sitting down on a hay bale opposite him.
He laughed at that, nodding. “There’s an understatement. More fresh recruits to pummel into shape. The garrison is nearly bursting. Between that and the sickness, he’s been running ragged this summer.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen any of our old comrades.”
“I did, actually.” He glanced up at me. “I reported for patrol last winter.”
“Truly?” I startled, surprised.
“I needed the coin, and I felt I owed it to them. They gave me hell for not showing up the last three years.”
Gods, had it really been that long?
“They must be thoroughly pissed at me,” I muttered.
“I took your lumps for you.”
I winced. “Sorry.” A long silence stretched between us as he wrestled a heavy leather needle through the new strap. I searched his face as he worked. He was calm, his old wounds a distant memory, still sore, but replaced with something else. He looked happy for the first time in a long time. “You seem well,” I observed.
He looked up from his stitching, considering. “I am,” he confirmed, flashing me a reserved grin. For once, I cursed my mother’s training. Part of me didn’t want to know.
“Married?” I asked, forcing a casual lightness to my voice I didn’t entirely feel.
Now it was James who searched my face. “Expecting our first this winter.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, fighting to dredge up a big smile for my oldest friend. “Congratulations,” I breathed with carefully measured excitement. “It’s a shame you’ll miss the birth.”
His eyes told me he knew I was dissembling, but he continued casually. “I’ve a mind to ask your father for a few weeks’ leave in midwinter. Seth has already agreed to cover my duties.”
I nodded a bit too animatedly. “I’ll speak with him, and make sure of it.”
“Thank you.”
Another awkward silence stretched, and I stood, feeling there was nothing more to say on the matter. “I should get going, Aubrey will be wondering where I am.” The afternoon sun burned high in the sky.
As I turned to take my leave, he called after me. “Leanne.” I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. “Her name is Leanne,” he added gently. “I think you’d like her very much.”
I forced a smile and a nod for him before I fled, locking myself in my room to nurse my aching heart in private. It was unfair of me, selfish in the extreme, to feel jealous. I am ashamed to admit to it, but I felt it all the same. James had been my first friend, my first love. It was I, not he, who had walked away. He owed me nothing, and yet still it hurt to know he had moved on so completely. I dug Adrian’s letter out of my desk and read it multiple times, clinging to memories of his face, his hands, the sound of his voice. It helped. I, too, had a greater love waiting for me. I clutched the paper to my chest and stared at the sapphire ring. It was right, that we should move on, and I knew it. Resolved, I refreshed myself in my washbasin and headed to my afternoon lesson at the Chamberlain manor.
Days later, it was there that I learned of the rumor of Selice’s miraculous recovery, quickly followed by the King’s summons. A public audience would be held in the throne room for every noble and influential family in the city. When I returned home that evening, eager to share the news, my parents were already aware. We speculated over dinner and discussed contingencies as best we could, but none of us were truly certain what this sudden public audience would betoken.
The morning of, as we made ready to leave for the palace, the household was tense. We spoke little, each of us lost in our own thoughts and fears of what was to come. The carriage ride, we made in silence.
We took our position near the front of the hall as one of the few great Houses in attendance. Only Chamberlain and Oristei Houses were present from Adulil’s Six, along with a smattering of lesser Houses. The rest of the throne room was packed with guild leaders, merchants, priests, and traders. I noticed the Hydraxian delegation among the throng, still lingering at court and attempting to go unnoticed. King Amenon took the dais, followed closely by the priest in his flowing white robes. He carried a staff, this time, the silver censer swinging from a chain on its head. Smoke seeped from it as he took his place behind the King’s left shoulder.
A murmur washed through the crowd as Selice stepped delicately onto the dais, posting up at her father’s right side. Her beautiful face was drained, magnificent eyes dull and exhausted. Despite her obvious frailty, she held her back straight and her chin high. It must have taken every ounce of her strength.
The King looked even worse than the last time I’d seen him, his eyes clouded with a complete lack of interest, dark circles ringing them. His clothes, though crisply pressed, hung from his emaciated frame. The golden circlet on his head weighed heavily upon his brow, shoulders tense as he struggled to support it. He raised one pale hand and the room fell deathly silent.
“I have called you all here today,” he began slowly, “to bear witness to a great miracle.” His gaze swept the room. “As you all know, my dear daughter, the Princess Selice, was recently stricken with the great gezgin sickness.” One hand gestured sloppily in her direction. I stiffened at the indirect accusation. His tone took on a blatant edge of bitterness. “In the depths of her infirmity, I beseeched our Sacred Mother and Her blessed son Adulil to come to my aid, to save my firstborn from the illness that ravaged her.” His face twisted angrily, voice cracking with grief and hatred. “My prayers went unanswered, just as they did when Rishel lay dying, and Cerya before her. As my daughter approached death, the High Priest Solomon came to me as I knelt at her bedside. He begged me to pray with him, to call to his god Al’Rahim in earnest to spare her life.”
The priest took a step forward, and an old echo of foreboding surfaced in the pit of my stomach.
“It was He, the Divine One, who answered.” Amenon raised his voice. “When Adulil abandoned me to watch my child die in silence, it was Al’Rahim who took pity on a grieving father.” He turned to the priest at his side. “It is for this great service that I appoint High Priest Solomon my Royal Advisor before all here assembled.”
He bowed low before the King, his staff dipping humbly. The stench of opium wafted through the air as Amenon nodded and waved him away. The priest straightened, resuming his post as my throat tightened with fear. Who now could gainsay
the Persican snake? To the King, to any father, there was no greater boon than the life of his child. I couldn’t help but glance at Selice. Despite her exhausted state, her eyes glinted angrily.
She was not the only one present who seethed. The King’s fury was palpable. “For this betrayal, I will no longer tolerate the worship of Adulil or his treasonous Mother in my city.” A wave of dissenting murmurs swept the assembled crowd. Amenon’s nostril twitched and he raised his voice above the din. “I’ll not have it in my city!” he bellowed, madness flickering in his eyes. The crowd fell silent. “Any who defy this decree will be subject to the Crown’s justice.”
“My lord, if I may,” Augustus stepped forward boldly from the crowd, his voice carefully measured.
Amenon’s eyes snapped to him. “You may not,” he snarled.
“Life and death are the purview of the Mother,” a gentle voice resonated above the continued murmurs. Bodies parted to reveal High Priestess Valia in her mist-green robes, vines twisted in her long brown curls, hazel eyes gleaming. She looked wholly out of place in the stark marble hall. “It is not for us to gainsay Her choices, Your Majesty.”
“You dare to tell me my daughter should have died?” His voice was low and terrible in his fury.
She took a few steps forward, her face filled with compassion. “Adulil taught us of the great balance, and that witnessing it was the burden of man. Not to interfere with it, but to suffer and celebrate in equal turn as the cycle threads through our lives.”
“I have read the damned Book of Days, Valia.”
“Then you know,” she pressed on, “that we all must suffer great loss in this life.”
“Do not speak to me of loss!” he roared, his voice cracking. He glanced at Selice, rubbing his head. “I have lost too much. It is too much.”
“Perhaps you fail to consider that there is another path.” It was the first time I’d heard the priest speak. His lightly accented voice rang out clear through the cavernous marble chamber. The sound of it reminded me of cold water running slow and frigid in a stream in winter. He took a step forward on the dais, bowing to the King, who gestured to him to continue. Solomon fixed High Priestess Valia with his dark gaze. “Al’Rahim, too, demands suffering and sacrifice. In that, we are brethren in faith.”
A Crown of Lilies Page 28