A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  One young woman pointed to the training fields and mimicked shooting a bow, smiling at me.

  I pointed at her, and then at the field, raising my brows. “You could join us, you know. Learn to shoot.” She shook her head, waving one hand at me. “Why not?” I asked, pointing at her and mimicking the bow, then shrugging.

  “It is not our way,” a firm female voice intoned in immaculate Alesian from somewhere to my left. I turned to see a jade-eyed grandmother sitting on the step of her wagon. Her silver hair was covered with a dark blue scarf, her dusky skin heavily lined with the marks of her age.

  “For women to defend themselves?” I challenged carefully. “Forgive me, mother, but I fear tradition has to make way for necessity.”

  Her thin lips twisted into a wry smirk. “Tradition is what has kept us alive these many centuries. It is our lifeblood as much as your fields and trees are yours.”

  I nodded, trying to understand even if I didn’t agree. “Your men could train with us. They should know how to defend their families.”

  Wrinkled eyelids squinted in amusement. “You are Alesian, training Alesians. It is all they see.”

  “I would have them know they are welcome,” I pressed.

  She regarded me, those jewel-tone eyes evaluating my sincerity. “I’ll tell them, girl, but they still may not come.”

  I nodded and thanked her. It was the best I could do.

  No gezgin joined us the next morning or the morning after that. I had given up hope of bridging the divide between our cultures when, on the third day, a group of three dusky-skinned men approached our makeshift training field. Each carried a bow over one shoulder. I greeted them with a reserved smile and pointed at the targets, mimicking shooting.

  “We know how to shoot, woman.” One man’s heavily accented Alesian startled me. “We are just here to practice.” I nodded, pointing to the least-occupied target in the bunch. Two women were already hard at work there. He bristled when he saw them. “We do not shoot with women.”

  I held firm. “Then you’ll not shoot at all.” A few eyes had turned to watch our exchange, sensing the tension in the air. Quintin started toward me, but I held my hand out to him and he halted. I kept my gaze locked with the gezgin man. “This is my training field. All are welcome here. If you can accept that, I would be glad for you to join us.”

  He tried to stare me down. I waited. Finally, one of his companions pushed past him, muttering to him in their own tongue, and went to join the women. The other followed quickly after. Outvoted, their leader shook his head and stalked along after them.

  It was a tense day. I watched them carefully to ensure there were no issues, but I needn’t have worried. The two Alesian women chatted amicably with them, and by the time the practice was called to a close, even the dourest of the three gezgin men had a slightly softer set to his jaw.

  More came the next day, bows over their shoulders. They were skilled marksmen, being a nomadic people who had hunted their native homelands for centuries beyond counting before the Persicans arrived. Most came to train with Quintin, though they had no swords of their own. Some just came to practice on the targets. After a week, I noticed a few even giving pointers to some of the Alesians, and their aim improved markedly.

  I spared an afternoon to travel once more to Bendton and have a leatherworker make a more comfortable tether for my wrist. The finished piece fit comfortably beneath my Freyjan shield, its anchoring loops easily tucked beneath the straps when not in use. Readily available should I have need for my bow, they could be fastened to the riser quickly with a single hand, held in place by a clever hook and clasp. It was a brilliant contraption, and I thanked the craftsman earnestly when it was finished.

  I was glad for the distraction. Selice paced the halls of the manor, anxious and obsessed. The solstice came and went with little news to bolster our spirits. We’d still had no response from Frii. When reports did arrive, they were filled with more bad news. Persica had managed to assemble a respectable force outside the city walls. Tommy’s scouts put their numbers well over a thousand strong, with pikemen and ballistae, and more reinforcements marching from the Bay of Brothers. Our army was closing in on Litheria but would face a significant fight when they arrived. Not only that, but raiding parties of Persican cavalry had been harassing the supply train at the back of the column, forcing our own men to double back to protect them, which slowed their progress even further.

  Finally, a week after the solstice, a bit of good news arrived. With the help of a sizable Freyjan company, the northern Hydraxian army had been broken and scattered just inside the border of Briare. Scouts reported hordes of fierce, armored women atop painted horses heading south toward Cambria. We celebrated with a significant amount of wine that night, and my head ached the next morning as I dragged myself through my drills.

  Other reports arrived shortly afterward that Hasha and her Emperor had been reunited in the capital. A grand celebration had been held at the temple and eyewitness accounts talked of the white stone and its strange sigils glowing brightly at the god-king’s touch. The divine couple had taken their place on the throne, adopting Samuel as their own son.

  When she read the report, the young queen’s fury settled like an icy blanket on the room. She commanded us all to leave her. When Colin made to protest, a single withering glare from her sent him fleeing. I knew better. I’d known that kind of rage before. I’d felt it in my veins. Like molten metal, it was a driving and unstoppable force of hate. There was nothing to do but let it pour from you until you were empty. I don’t know how she vented it, but I came across her later in the day, sitting with her captain in quiet confidence. She looked drawn, and tired, and very young. Unseen by either, I watched them discreetly for a moment. His hand settled on hers and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  Love, then, I thought, and was glad. She needed someone to trust, someone to whom she could bare her true nature.

  Everyone does.

  Summer wore on and I grew more and more restless. I caught myself staring eastward on a daily basis, itching for news. Days passed, then weeks, without word.

  When it finally came, I wished it hadn’t.

  The sound of pounding on the front door woke me in the early hours of the morning. It was still dark, dawn’s first light a long way off. I shot upright in my bed and heard the house stirring in alarm. Throwing aside the blankets, I snatched my sword from its sheath and rushed downstairs barefoot in my shift. The majority of the household was already there, Amita guiding a young man into a chair in the foyer. I pressed between Elliot and Maria to reach him.

  “Matt,” I breathed, taking in his face. He looked exhausted, frightened, and riddled with guilt.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” he gasped miserably. “I nearly ruined her, but I had to. General Reyus told me I had to.” It took me a moment to understand he was talking about the horse I’d given him. “Two days and nights with barely a rest. I thought she’d founder, but she’s so damned tough.”

  I tried to calm him as panic wrapped its icy grip around my chest. “Stephan will see to her, now tell us what the hells happened. Why were you with Reyus?” It made no sense. He’d left for Kingston with Tommy.

  Amita handed him a glass of water, which he sucked down noisily. His tunic was drenched with sweat and blood, what armor he’d had, long since abandoned. “They knew we were coming.” He tugged at his hair. “Ah, gods, miss. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Why did you leave Kingston?” I pressed him patiently, trying to get him on track.

  He nodded. “Some of the lads running the barge routes into the city brought news of a few lords that had been arrested by the High Priest. Tommy looked worried and sent me to bring you a letter.” He dug ineffectively in his tunic. “It’s in my saddlebags,” he muttered, remembering.

  I shook him, terror gripping hard. “What lords, Matt?”

  He looked like he might faint. “I can’t remember. Two men. The charges said they
had committed an unforgivable sin, called them unclean.”

  My heart sank. “Aubrey? Leon? Are these the names you heard?” my voice trembled.

  “Aye,” he nodded in recognition. “Tommy was sure they meant something to you, so he sent me.” I backed away, glancing at Quintin, the sword all but forgotten in my hand. He watched me withdraw, pity laid plain on his face as I started back toward my room.

  Selice blocked my path. “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “Litheria.”

  “It’s too late, miss,” Matt called after me, freezing my feet in place. I turned slowly, my tear-streaked face a compendium of the misery within. Brown eyes met mine with regret. “They went to the pyre before I ever left Tommy’s.”

  What mending my heart had managed to do in the last six months was torn asunder in that moment. My dearest friend in the world, my adventurous amber-eyed poet, gone with the rest of those I loved, taken from me by the snake I should have killed in the temple square. There is no easy way to die, but knowing that he and gentle Leon had suffered an even more brutal end than my parents and Shera… It opened a dark door within me that I could not close. Rage buried my grief, forcing it down into the pit of my stomach where the rest of my nightmares lay. I nearly trembled with the force of it, nails biting my palms as I clenched the hilt in my hand.

  “What about the army,” Colin asked.

  Matt’s face was painted with misery, but he forced the words out anyway, eyes still locked on me. “I was riding for Laezon when I saw them. They were still a full day’s ride from the city, but the Persican army had pressed out to meet them in the field. I thought I might bring a battle report as well, so I watched from a distance. They were making progress, taking ground. I saw a lot of white banners fall, miss.” He swallowed, pressing on. “But then the rest came out of the north and-”

  “The rest?” Selice’s cool voice interrupted.

  “Of the army, Majesty. Three thousand strong at least.” Her beautiful face paled. “You need to leave here, my lady. They are coming.”

  “How soon?” My voice was hollow in my own ears.

  “Three days, maybe. Four at the most.”

  I left them to pull the details from him, pushing past my distracted queen and climbing the stairs. I shut the door and leaned back against it, hot tears staining my cheeks. My parents, my household, James, and now Aubrey; Solomon had taken it all from me. I shook in breath and body, consumed by my grief and my rage.

  A crossroads stood before me, in that moment.

  Sorrow is pure and honest, one half of the sacred balance that rules our lives, as familiar to me as breathing, now. I knew it would weaken me, would break me into a thousand pieces again. Certainly, I could try and patch myself back together. I’d done it once, I could likely do it again, but the thought alone exhausted me.

  Rage would change me, mind and soul, a third path that had no place in Adulil’s teachings. It is the purview of the madman, cut down in the streets by Tuvre’s righteous sword. I knew all these things, but there is power in fury. I could feel it roiling beneath the surface of my skin. It could keep me going, drive me to do what needed to be done. Therein lay the danger, for rage has no conscience of its own, and I wasn’t sure my own moral compass could be relied upon to keep the beast in hand.

  I didn’t care. I chose rage.

  Dressed in my sparring gear, I threw open the door and nearly ran Quintin down in my hurry. He took a step back, bumping against the banister as he eyed me warily.

  “I know where you are right now,” he began, tip-toeing through the words.

  “Don’t,” I snarled, and made to push past him. He shifted determinedly, blocking my path, one palm raised between us.

  “There will be a time and a place. Right now, we need you here.” He pointed at the floor beneath our feet. No, the darkness inside me seethed. He could see it in my eyes. “I need you in control. Focus.”

  I wanted to, and I didn’t. The beast somersaulted inside my chest, raking and bashing furiously against the borders of its corporeal cage. Hunt them down. Make them pay. I breathed fire and hate, unable to wrestle it into submission. The molten metal coursed through my veins.

  “I can’t,” I replied through clenched teeth.

  That, too, he understood. “Come on.” He led me to the garden at a quick pace, drawing his swords and turning to face me.

  “This is a bad idea,” I cautioned tightly, every muscle in my body quivering beneath the intensity of my fury.

  “You need it. Draw.”

  I did.

  I railed against his guard with all my unbridled fury, pouring the darkness out of me one slash at a time. Blades rang their sharp cries into the early morning light as he blocked and pressed in turn. My left arm absorbed and deflected blow after rattling blow. I advanced, pushing him back step by step, throwing every ounce of my strength into each swing. Sweat glistened on his brow and he dodged a few close calls here and there, but for the most part, he kept me well in hand.

  It took a while.

  When I could no longer lift my sword, exhausted and gasping for air, I collapsed to the ground, staking my blade in the dirt. Sheathing his own, he took a knee a few feet away, his own breath labored for once.

  “Better?” he asked as his chest heaved.

  I nodded, having regained some measure of control. Oh, the rage was still there, the beast writhing beneath the surface, but I held the leash. Shaking my head miserably, I met his gaze.

  “I should have stayed in Litheria. I could have saved them.”

  “If you had stayed, you would have been dead long before they were ever arrested.”

  “I left him there to die.”

  “He could have fled to Cambria.”

  Grief crept in, guilt dousing the bonfire of my hate. “He was waiting for me to come back.” I swallowed, Aubrey’s face swimming in my memory. “And I abandoned him.”

  Quintin didn’t respond to that. He had his own guilt that closely paralleled my own.

  Solomon, the beast seethed. His smug face lingered in my mind. “I should have killed that snake when I had the chance.” My voice sounded cold, far away, like it belonged to someone else. I held my companion’s gaze. “I will kill him, Quintin.”

  He nodded slowly, regarding me with a mix of regret and understanding. Heaving himself to his feet, he offered me a hand. “But not today.” I clasped his forearm and he hauled me up. I yanked my sword from the dirt. “Today, there are other lives at stake, other people who depend on you. Focus on the task at hand.”

  With his help, I did.

  The house was abuzz with frenzied preparations and sown with confusion. Everyone knew to make ready to leave, but as of yet, there was no plan as to where. Selice summoned us all to the salon. Though I’d not shared more than was necessary with Aubrey, he knew of Selice’s presence in Laezon and our intentions to march on Litheria. He was unaccountably brave and loyal to a fault, my amber-eyed poet, but even he could not withstand the cleansing of Solomon’s priests. My mother’s training and my own experience in the hands of one such interrogator assured me of that much. We had to assume that the Divine Origin knew everything he did. Persica would come for Selice, to put an end once and for all to the threat she posed.

  “Maria and I would be happy to open our home to you, my lady,” Elliot offered hesitantly. “Only, it is so close, I fear it has little more safety to offer than here.”

  “No, my lord,” Selice refused gently. “You have done enough for us. Once we are away, return home and take your family into hiding until this is all over.” Her golden eyes swept the map, muttering half to herself. “I’ll not bring this madness to your doorstep.”

  Elliot and I exchanged a glance.

  “We should make for Caelin. Lord Ignatus would surely shelter you, Majesty.” Colin pointed to the province to our west.

  I nodded my agreement but said nothing. There were so few of us left, and all so woefully ill-equipped to make such decisi
ons alone. Selice looked up at me.

  “You’re quiet, Lady Lazerin. I would have your counsel.” It was there in her eyes, poorly concealed in light of the current tensions: fear. She needed a confident hand other than her captain. Love creates bias, and the fact that she sought to counter-balance that prejudice revealed a wisdom in my queen that far surpassed her years. I felt no more qualified than anyone else present to advise a monarch in the face of the approaching catastrophe, but she needed me to be otherwise.

  I turned my attention to the map, pulling a smaller one from the litter of papers strewn about, a larger cartograph of Laezon detailing the terrain of my family’s province. The fort lay north, Elliot and Maria’s estate to the southwest. All along the northwestern border, the vast Laezon Forest stretched. Narrow, but long, it could be passed through in a day to reach the open fields of Theria on the far side. Nevertheless, it was a dense and ancient wood. My mind flicked a spark to the fore, a memory of my Bronnadh. Gears turned in my mind.

  There, yes. My mother’s voice.

  I pointed to the forest on the map. “The refugees are too many. They will never make it to Caelin before the Persicans catch up, and we can’t risk the enemy following them to you. We can hide them here, in the forest.” I raised my eyes to Selice. “You and your guard make for House Caerus and work toward rebuilding our army. With the northern Hydraxian forces defeated, many of the western provinces should have men to spare.”

  “When they find the manor empty, the Persicans will go looking for her,” Colin pointed out. “It won’t take them long to reach Lord Caerus’ doorstep.”

  I glanced at him. “Not if they think she’s still here.” Pointing at the garrison stronghold, I continued. “Whatever remains of our army will flee to the fort. It is the most defensible place within thirty leagues. Persica will expect her to hole up there.” I gestured at the forest. “As long as they don’t see anyone make for the forest, they’ll never think to search it, or the lands beyond. Their eyes are on the army. They will remain as such so long as we give them no cause to look elsewhere.”