A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  “And you’ll come to Caelin with us to arrange the next stage?” Selice pressed, unable to keep a pitch of nervousness from her voice.

  I regarded her gently. She was so young, younger even than I. “Someone needs to stay with these people.”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “We are not splitting up.”

  “We’ve little choice at this point, my lady.”

  Colin leaned over the map, calculating. His eyes flicked to me. “Does the fort have enough supplies for a siege?”

  “We can call in every favor within a day’s ride. The nearby villages and homesteads should be warned as well. Give everyone a chance to flee.”

  He balked, shaking his head. “Impossible. There are too many.”

  “We are wasting time,” I countered impatiently. Turning to Selice, I implored her to see reason. “We have a month’s worth of work to do and less than three days to do it. This is the best play. We need to move.”

  She swallowed, the delicate muscles of her neck working. Drawing herself up, she nodded.

  Elliot and Maria were tasked with coordinating the collection of all remaining provisions in the barns and cellars. Colin and his Queen’s Guard rode out in pairs to as many farms and small villages as possible. They would commandeer wagons, food stores, tools, and other supplies, as well as warn of the approaching army. The people were encouraged to flee northeast into Montar, allowed to keep enough of their goods to see them safely away. It would prevent them from leading the Persicans to the forest, and we sent a courier ahead to Lord Montre to prepare for an influx of Laezon refugees. Written by the Queen herself, it commanded House Montre to provide every assistance to those who arrived, with promises of recompense in the future. House Caerus was alerted as well, along with every major Lazerin hold in the province, couriers racing off with bundles of letters. Estates similar to that of Elliot and Maria all received the same warning: Persica is coming.

  Stephan and his stable boys had their hands full rounding up the herds. I’d not leave my family’s legacy behind to be confiscated or destroyed by the enemy. With the help of a significant number of hired hands, they would push through the forest to the northwest into the open fields of Theria at the far side. There, at the edge of the woods, they would construct paddocks and shelters for the horses to survive the winter.

  Within the forest, near the river that wound through from the mountains of Theria down to Bendton and beyond to join the Septim, we would build our encampment. Water, Izikiel had once taught me, is the cornerstone of survival in the wilds. Food can be found, shelter can be built, but you must seek out the water. Even rain is unreliable at best. Follow the rivers, and find life.

  It was a reasonable plan, but we were woefully undermanned to achieve it. Fall was nearly upon us, the last hot days of summer dwindling. That left two months, three at best, to make the preparations that would have to see hundreds of people through the coming winter. When the impossible scope of the task began to overwhelm me, Quintin would pull me back from the edge of despair, focusing me on whatever small step lay before us at the moment.

  I hollowed myself, to see it done. There was no room for fear, no time for grief or rage. Only the next task existed. Everything else was buried in that deep chasm at the pit of my stomach. The beast coiled silently inside, content to wait.

  Quintin and I rode for Bendton that afternoon. In the market square, I tracked down every merchant I’d visited in the spring, asking after the provisions they had agreed to set aside. It was early, yet, and most were not due to harvest for at least another month. Frustrated, I sought out the town’s elder, a weather-worn man by the name of Gregor. His wrinkled face fell as I laid out the imminent threat before us. Nodding solemnly, he agreed to help me address the townspeople.

  I stood beside him on the small wooden auction platform in the center of the market, reading faces in the crowd as he addressed his people. Quintin hovered nearby, eyeing the throng from the ground beside the stage. To their credit, the common folk quickly deferred to their elder in his deep green robes and rough-hewn wooden cane. He had a voice that carried and commanded respect. I gauged he’d been their leader for many years.

  “The Persican army is coming,” he announced after a short introduction. “They will be here in a few days.” Murmurs and panicked shouts rippled through the crowd.

  “Quiet!” he roared with surprising volume. The crowd fell silent once more. He scanned their faces with compassion. “I know this is frightening, but we must keep our heads. Those who can should gather their things and head northeast to Montar. The lord there will provide for us until we can return home.”

  “We should stay and fight!” one brash young man shouted. Several others cheered their agreement.

  “Lady Lazerin will protect us!” another called out confidently. Gregor glanced at me. I stepped to the fore in my breeches and tunic.

  “I am Lady Lazerin.” I rested my gauntleted hand on my sword hilt. “My cavalry is in full retreat, along with the rest of the Queen’s army. Your courage is admirable, but the force that is coming is not one of farmers and weavers.” I watched the young man flush, anger plain on his face. “These are Persican marauders, trained soldiers that have done nothing but conquer other peoples for many years before they ever set foot on Alesian soil.”

  “This is our home!” another man shouted.

  I nodded, sympathy piquing in my chest. Gods, they were all going to lose so damned much, and all because of us. Shoving the guilt aside, I glanced over the assembled faces. “I know. We will reclaim it, I promise.” I swallowed, uncomfortable before so many eyes. “For now, it is your lives that are most precious, and your survival that matters above all else. We are in dire need of supplies for the army that is staying behind to fight for Laezon. Any and all stores of food and wagons that you can spare, we ask that you bring them here for collection on the morrow.” I could see that wasn’t enough for many of the young men in the crowd. “If you wish to stay, to serve your queen no matter the cost, come now to the fields at the south end of town. The rest of you, gather what you can and make for Montar.”

  I gave Gregor a nod of thanks and jumped down off the dais, the crowd erupting around me. Quintin eyed me sidelong as I mounted Valor and made for the south end of town, where we waited in the fields for nearly an hour as they trickled in alone or in small clusters. Most of them were young men, though there were some women and a few older men near my father’s age. They milled about, chatting quietly amongst themselves. My guardian and I exchanged a glance. We couldn’t afford to wait any longer. There was simply too much else that needed to be done.

  Still in my saddle, I nudged Valor to the front of the group, surveying the good four dozen who had gathered. I mustered my best impression of Samson as I slowly paced before them. “You lot wish to serve your queen?”

  Calls of affirmation in varying levels of enthusiasm rippled through the crowd.

  “No matter the cost?” I pressed.

  “Aye,” came the more unified response.

  I nodded. “Then prove it. Muster what stores you have. Encourage neighbors to give as much as they can spare to support the army. You lot will be responsible for the collection in the market tomorrow. Clothes, blankets, canvas, wool, weapons, livestock, grain, and any other supplies you can manage.” I looked around at them. “Any blacksmiths or carpenters among you?” A few raised hands, one blacksmith’s apprentice and several carpenters. “We need axes, tools, and nails, all you can find.” They nodded solemnly, purpose a guiding beacon settling on their shoulders. I swept my gaze across the lot of them. “We’ll return tomorrow afternoon to see how you fared. The rest is in your hands. See it done.”

  One last collective assent rang out before they scrambled back toward the town in a hurry. Quintin sidled up to me on his brown gelding, watching them go. “That went well.”

  “Let’s hope they deliver.”

  We raced for the fort next, pushing our mounts and making good time.
The portcullis stood open when we arrived, the latest batch of cavalry recruits running mounted drills in the outer training fields. At the end of the summer, they were in decent form. Two captains circled the perimeter on their sturdy warhorses, shouting instruction and correction. Catching sight of us, one peeled off and met us halfway. He looked to be about Adrian’s age, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. His handsome roan mare shuffled beneath him, shying at Valor. The captain narrowed his eyes, taking in my appearance.

  “How are my cavalry, captain?” I asked with as much of a tone of command as I could muster.

  Brown eyes flicked to Quintin, who gave a small nod.

  “Well, my lady,” he replied tightly. “Forgive me, I didn’t recognize you.” I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t look much like a lady.

  “We bring dire news. Are you the ranking officer in Commander Samson’s absence?”

  He nodded, giving a little bow from his seat. “Captain Foley, my lady.”

  I watched him pale as I told him the situation. He was young, still, despite his capable countenance. With his assistance, we cataloged the extent of supplies in the fort, primarily foodstuffs and arms. There was barely enough for the fall. My heart sank. I told Foley the plan and asked for a small contingent of volunteers from his cavalry to join us in the forest. We would need loyal, disciplined men to help keep order. I asked after Will, who had apparently taken quite naturally to the sword. The captain offered to call for him, but I refused. We would collect him along with the volunteers on the morrow when we delivered what supplies we could gather.

  Quintin and I visited three more homesteads before returning to the manor at dusk. Each farm agreed to contribute what they could to the garrison, but their crops weren’t due for harvest for at least another month. We would have to burn it all. Either that or feed the enemy army unwittingly. Every crofter we spoke to chose the former.

  Over dinner, those of us who had returned reported our progress from the day. Colin and his men had cut a swath across the countryside, and wagon-loads of supplies were already in route to the garrison. They would do the same again in the next two days, gathering as much as possible until we ran out of time.

  “All of it needs to go to the fort,” I stated firmly, having finished recounting our own progress from the day. “They’ve barely enough to last the fall.”

  “What will your people eat?” Selice asked.

  “We can hunt. You can send supplies from Caelin. We have two more months to gather what we need. We’ll manage. In two days, that portcullis closes, and what they have is all they will have until we can break the siege.”

  After dinner, I spent the remainder of the evening going through the house once more with Amita. Room by room, we identified what could be sent to the forest encampment and what could be sent with Selice to Caelin as valuables and coin. In the end, we agreed on lists of things for each destination, and I left it in her capable hands.

  The day’s tasks done, I wandered the house to clear my head until I found myself in our small armory. It was already half-empty from our makeshift training escapades. Racks of armor remained, though, one set of heavy plate brightly polished and gleaming on its own stand. The breastplate was embossed with a proud stallion, front hooves striking out at the air. I heard Quintin’s distinct footsteps enter and halt a few feet behind me.

  “It was my father’s,” I informed him quietly, one hand tracing the sigil of my House.

  “Fine armor,” he commented.

  “If I were a son, I might wear it to honor him.” I dropped my hand. Such armor was made for a man, and a strong one at that. I was neither of those things.

  “You honor him in other ways.”

  I turned toward him, considering his build dispassionately. “You could wear it. You’re near enough of a size.” Though he wasn’t quite as tall or burly as my father had been, the breastplate would have fit his broad-shouldered frame well enough.

  His face remained carefully neutral. “I am not a Lazerin.”

  “Yes, you are,” I countered softly. The words slipped from me without thought, but in hindsight, I realized just how much I had meant them. My father had taken him into our House, into his service, and trusted him with the safety of his only child. When everyone I loved was ripped from me, he had put himself at great risk to pull me from the darkness. When I had tried to send him away time and again, he had staunchly refused. He was the closest thing to family I had left. I nodded, a reinforcement. “You are,” I repeated more firmly.

  His hard expression softened a bit at that. He’d been careful around me since the news of Aubrey’s death. I figured he was afraid of my temper, as well anyone should be. “We’ll take it with us.”

  Resolved, I changed the subject. It was clear he had sought me out for a reason. “Did you need something?”

  “Elliot tells me the refugees are beginning to ask questions, with all the activity and the two of us not showing up for practice today.”

  I rubbed my face. That was a conversation I did not look forward to, but it was my plan. I was responsible. “We’ll speak to them in the morning before we head out.”

  He nodded and bid me good night. I retired to my room, going through my things and making piles on the floor. Wool gowns, cloaks, spare breeches and tunics would all go to the forest. The one remaining of my two wolf-skin cloaks, I lingered over, the image of my father’s proud face scouring my wounded heart. Its twin had burned in Litheria, along with the rest of my life. Black wool pooled in my hands, the soft white fur catching a few stray tears as they slipped from my eyes. Dashing them angrily away, I set the cloak atop the others and forced myself to focus. My jewelry box, I set firmly atop the pile for Selice, though it pained me to do it. Each piece held a memory, an echo of a moment in time when my life harbored fewer shadows. If I could sacrifice my mother’s jewelry for the cause, I could certainly give up my own.

  Satisfied in my determination, I slept.

  Dawn came quickly, and I dragged myself down the stairs and out into the courtyard. Our morning exercises forgone in the face of urgency, Quintin waited with both our mounts. Together, we rode out to the motley camp outside the manor walls. It took some time to get them assembled, during which I found the gezgin grandmother and begged her to translate for me. When the majority of them had congregated at the edge of the camp, I sat atop Valor once more and told them the situation. The Alesians, who had already experienced the brutality of the Divine Origin firsthand, immediately panicked. The gezgin, many of whom waited on translation, eyed them with concern before their own understanding sent murmurs of terror through their ranks.

  “Please, everyone! I need you to stay calm!” I called out over the din, raising one hand and attempting to channel some of Gregor’s authoritative bearing. They settled a bit, but the tension was palpable. “We have a plan to keep everyone safe, but I need you all to trust me.” A few exchanged glances. The gezgin grandmother watched me with her judicious eyes. I pressed on while I still had their attention. “The Persicans will be focused on the fort. We will make camp in the forest to the northwest, out of sight of their army.”

  “You expect us to overwinter in the forest?” one man called out in disbelief.

  “Aren’t there wolves?” a woman protested.

  “We’ll freeze to death!” another shouted.

  “We will build shelters,” I said, trying to reassure them.

  “What about food? We can barely keep our children fed as it is!”

  “We have enough to get us going. Those of us who can hunt, will. We’ll arrange supply runs to Caelin and Theria to get us through the winter.”

  “What if they find us?” the first woman cried.

  I almost laughed at that but didn’t. “Be assured, madam, they will find you if you stay here.” The coolness of my tone silenced her. Quintin cleared his throat quietly beside me, warning me to be kind. I took a calming breath, gaze sweeping over their faces. They were afraid. They should be, but they needed
someone to give them hope that such a vast and overwhelming endeavor was even possible. “You needn’t come with us. If you so choose, you can head north to Montar, where the lord will help see you through the winter along with many other Laezon refugees. If that is your wish, you should leave now, to be well clear before the enemy arrives.”

  I noted several of them who favored the latter and couldn’t honestly blame them. It would be a difficult six months in the wilderness. “For those that wish to stay, it will take every single one of us to see us through the winter, but we can survive this if we work together.” Valor shifted beneath me. “Tomorrow morning, you will follow the convoy into the forest. They will take you to the campsite, and then press on to establish our supply connections in Caelin. Those of you who are able, begin felling trees and clearing the site. We’re going to need a lot of lumber. We will meet you in two days’ time.” I waited for the jade-eyed grandmother to finish her translation, to see if there were any other pressing questions before we left them to their preparations.

  By the time we reached Bendton, it was mid-afternoon. We had stopped at two other small hamlets along the way, repeating our instructions and begging for supplies. When we trotted into the market square, it looked wholly different from the previous day. The stalls stood bare, wagons and people swarming about. Our four dozen volunteers surrounded the auction platform, hollering at the crowd and accepting supplies. Most of the wagons had already been loaded, patient carthorses twitching their ears at the racket.

  As Quintin and I rode up, one young man hopped down from the stage to greet us. “Henry, my lady,” he introduced himself, pulling his hat from his head.

  “Quite the ruckus, Henry,” I observed.

  He grinned. “We were at it all night, miss, pounding on doors and emptying gardens. Most everyone was eager to give what they could, and those that weren’t were eager to make some coin.”