We helped him over to a barrel near the stables, and he sank heavily onto it as Will and I worked in tandem to remove his armor and assess his injuries.
“My lady,” a stiff voice sounded behind me. I turned to see Lord Nicholas standing straight-backed and carefully composed in his gleaming black armor. His weight leaned heavily on his right leg as he bowed, one fist pressed to his chest. “My sincerest apology for my earlier comments. Our queen will, of course, have the full support of Tuvria.” Every pair of eyes in that courtyard watched us. He may have been a self-righteous brute, but he was a man of his word.
Damn you and damn your support, I seethed in my mind. “Her Majesty thanks you for your loyalty in this time of great need,” I replied loudly instead. The rapt audience scattered, chatting and settling wagers as they returned to their duties. I took an angry step toward Nicholas, lowering my voice. “Now get me a damned medic.”
Dark eyes flicked to Quintin, then back to me. “Of course,” he replied stiffly, leaving us and calling for his chamberlain. A tight-lipped physician of middling years appeared moments later to offer his services. The wounds were not life-threatening, but both needed stitches. With Will’s assistance, he escorted my wounded companion into the house to be tended in relative privacy. I paced in the hallway outside the door, muffled voices murmuring unintelligibly within.
At last, the medic emerged, his bag in hand. He bowed politely to me, giving instructions for my armsman’s recovery before vanishing into the house. Will was chatting animatedly with Quintin when I entered. Both men fell silent and looked to me as I stood there, painstakingly composed.
“The physician says you’re not to ride for at least a week. Two, more likely.” I couldn’t keep the cool edge from my voice. The stress of the risk he’d taken combined with the remarkably hostile reception to our petition had twisted my careful calm into something other than. “I’ve a mind to leave you here and press on without you.”
He exchanged a glance with Will. “Give us a moment,” he murmured to his eager young companion. When the door latched behind me, he responded to my threat. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
I took an angry step toward him. “And I’d rather you didn’t risk everything we’ve worked toward for your damned pride!”
“He insulted your House,” he countered stiffly.
“You think I didn’t want to cut his tongue out for what he said about my parents? We have thousands of people relying on us! I’ll not throw their lives away over a few spiteful words!”
He was adamant. “He insulted you. He went too far.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I pressed, exasperated, unable to contain my fury. “I don’t fucking matter! We need him to help us win this war!”
“It matters to me!” he snapped, scowling.
“You could have been killed!” I shouted at him, fear pitching my voice higher, my fists clenched in frustration. He was so damned stubborn. Why couldn’t he see how close he’d come? I paused to pace a few steps and take a calming breath. Jabbing one finger at the floor, I struggled to drive my point through his thick skull. “My dignity is not worth your life.” He watched me, mouth twisting as he swallowed a retort. I shook my head at him, desperate to make him understand. “I can’t carry your face, Quintin.”
He softened at that, blue eyes watching me, gears turning behind his mask. “He wouldn’t have agreed any other way.”
Silence, and the harrowing truth of it, settled between us. My final attempt to shame Nicholas into action had been a last desperate ploy, and more than likely would have failed. He was a draconian old bastard, and my offensive presence alone had nearly cost us his aid. After a long moment, I crossed to take up Will’s seat beside the bed. My scabbard rattled against the wood as I sank heavily into it and leaned my elbows onto my knees, rubbing my aching head with both hands. “You might’ve gone for his left sooner,” I muttered.
He almost laughed, but my fury had diminished him. “I couldn’t get inside his guard, he’s too good. I needed him to believe he’d beaten me.”
I dropped my hands as his words slowly sank in.
A wry smirk twisted the corner of his mouth. “Fooled you, too, didn’t I?”
A short, harsh laugh of disbelief escaped my lips and I gaped at him incredulously. Another long silence filled the air as realization overpowered my frustration. He’d taken the wounds deliberately in order to bait his opponent, playing a difficult and dangerous game to draw Nicholas in close. One misstep, one misjudged swing would have separated his head from his shoulders. The understanding brought with it an enhanced sense of awe at his skill, quickly followed by a wave of guilt. He had held his own against a far more seasoned and formidably-armored opponent and emerged victorious, not only for our cause but also for my honor and the honor of my House.
And I had yelled at him for it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered as I continued to stare. “You told me to win.”
“You were brilliant,” I finally admitted, shaking my head. He met my eyes, hesitation flickering at the edges of his guarded composure. Despite his prickly demeanor, he longed for my approval. “Truly,” I affirmed, taking his hand and squeezing.
He favored me with a rare smile, but there was a hint of sadness in it that I couldn’t place. Callused fingers laced with mine in a markedly intimate gesture that felt as natural as a heartbeat. The air shifted between us. From somewhere, real or imagined, the faint scent of lilies emerged.
Ah, gods.
Standing abruptly, I dropped his hand and averted my gaze. “I should see about the horses. I’ll send Will back to keep you company.” I fled before he could respond, my chest pounding in panicked denial. Clutching the sapphire ring around my neck, I forced my racing heart to still.
I can’t. I’m not.
“Lady Lazerin,” the chamberlain appeared around one corner, fetching up before me and offering a crisp bow. “My Lord Nicholas has asked me to extend an offer of hospitality to you and your companions, in light of your man’s injuries.”
I leapt at the diversion. “Thank you, we would be very grateful to accept.”
He smiled politely and offered to show me to our assigned quarters. They were modest but comfortable, a trio of rooms directly adjacent to one another on the upper level of the house. I smirked bitterly at that, wondering if it was an intentional bite of revenge, to make Quintin hobble up and down the steps each day.
“You are most welcome to join my lord and lady for dinner, of course. The privy is just there,” he pointed to a doorway down the hall. “I’ll have baths drawn for you if you’d like, though the physician tells me your man will need to refrain until his wounds close.”
I sighed gratefully. “That would be greatly appreciated. We’ve been on the road a long while.”
He bowed gracefully and agreed to see it done right away. Our bags had been delivered to our guest quarters and I rummaged through mine to find the emerald gown I’d tucked into the bottom of my pack. Shaking it out, I laid it flat on the bed and hoped some of the wrinkles would subside before dinner. A short while later, a discreet knock at my door announced that my bath was ready, and I made my way down the hall to the privy. There were no attendants, but a small table beside the sizable wooden tub held a pile of fresh towels and a single lump of soap.
I stripped and sank into the steaming water, allowing myself a long soak before scrubbing every inch of my skin clean. As I sat, fingertips twisting the sapphire ring on its chain, my mind marched determinedly through the paces of denial. The lilies didn’t mean anything, just a memory of James kicked to the fore by the strain of the day. I was exhausted from the road. Even if they did, what would it matter? I’d given Adrian my word. He was a good man. These vicious rumors were just that – rumors.
Adrian is mad for you and will wait. My mother’s reassuring voice echoed in my memory. I clung to it, desperate to make sense of the mess inside my head. Quintin was…Quintin; loyal and stubborn and proud and patient. I could
put a thousand words to his name and never come close to the truth of him. Among all of them, though, I was quite sure ‘enamored’ was not one. Why would it be, when all I’d ever caused him was pain and frustration? Afraid and unwilling to dig deeper, I resolved that my moment of childish delusion was just that, and buried it deep inside the pit in my stomach.
My gown was no less wrinkled by the time I returned to my room, but I donned it nonetheless. The dinner hour was quickly approaching and Will still needed a bath. On my way downstairs to find him, I spotted a meek servant girl and asked her to see the water replaced. Bracing myself, I knocked lightly on the door to the room where I’d left them.
They sat chatting as they had before, though the air of levity seemed to have fled. I informed them of our invitation and instructed Will to see himself bathed before supper. With a final glance at Quintin, he stood and left. I turned to follow him out the door, afraid to be alone with my wheat-haired companion again.
“Wait,” he called after me. I turned, and he eyed me with careful reserve. He knew something was wrong. “Tell me.”
He hadn’t noticed my reaction earlier. Good. Maybe things could stay the way they’d always been. I channeled my best calm demeanor and redirected my panic into a believable distraction.
“Selice shared some disturbing rumors with me before we left Caelin.” Forcing my feet to move, I crossed the room casually and settled back into the chair with as much aloofness as I could manage. “That Adrian has wed another.”
He paled, anger glinting in his eyes. “Are you sure?” Part of me felt vindicated in my earlier rationalization. Surely, if he harbored any romantic notions, he’d be thrilled at the news, not angry.
“No, none of our scouts had verified first-hand.”
“He wouldn’t,” he replied with forced certitude. He had never been one to offer a comfortable lie. It made it all the more difficult, that he did so now.
A bitter smile curled my lips. “We’ll see for ourselves before long.” Daria was the last stop on our route before doubling back to the Kingswood.
“Longer, now, because of me,” he realized aloud.
I waved off his remorse. “You did what needed to be done – what I couldn’t.” We both considered that a moment.
“I would have yielded, you know,” he fixed me with a wry grin. “I’m not that stubborn.”
I couldn’t help but flash him a dubious smirk. “All evidence to the contrary.” His soft laugh made my heart hurt.
“I suppose I should change as well,” he suggested, looking down at his bloodied tunic and breeches. “Unless you think the dinner invitation doesn’t extend to me.”
I eyed him sternly. “Oh, you’re going. I want to watch that bastard squirm.” Standing, I left to fetch his bag from his room. “Here,” I said, tossing it onto the chair. Eyeing his fresh bandages, I hesitated. “Will you be able to manage?”
He was already swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Dinner was an awkward affair, though to his credit, Lord Nicholas was a courteous and generous host in the wake of his very public defeat. His wife spoke little throughout the meal, though I made several attempts to engage her in conversation. His three sons eyed Quintin surreptitiously across the table, more awed than angry that any man could best their father in single combat. For his part, my freshly-stitched companion was humble and deferential, which went a long way toward soothing bruised egos.
In the end, I was somewhat surprised at Lord Tuvre’s graceful acceptance of his defeat, as well as his shift in attitude toward us. When I mentioned as much to Quintin, he offered me one of his wry smirks.
“Single combat is a sacred rite here, not just a way to settle disputes. The outcome is considered a declaration of favor by Tuvre himself.” He watched my face as the realization dawned on me. Nothing short of the endorsement of his honored ancestor would have moved Nicholas to our cause. When my guardian had insisted his challenge was the only way, he had meant it in the most literal sense possible.
We lingered in Tuvria for two long, uncomfortable weeks. During that time, the dour lord of the manor deigned to interrogate me at length about the strangeness of my eyes and the status of our rebel army. I don’t think he believed even half of what I told him, but I told it all the same, making every effort to be patient and gracious. Though Quintin insisted almost daily that he would be fine to ride, I held firm until the physician removed his stitches and declared him hale enough to travel. He no longer limped, though we were told to keep both wounds bandaged and clean for another week at least. After one final round of baths and a conversation with the chamberlain about supplies, we were ready to set out once more.
Lord Tuvre saw us off in the morning, eyeing my breeches and sword belt with marked disapproval. Nevertheless, he reassured us of his allegiance and I was confident he would keep his word. The full might of Tuvria would march for the Kingswood. In a final gesture of good faith, he provided us with a pair of letters of his own for the lords of Euzros and Savern. In them, he had laid out his confidence in our integrity as servants of the Queen. Surprised, I thanked him with genuine fervor. It would make our next two petitions significantly less arduous. Quintin clasped arms with Nicholas one final time, exchanging a few last private words before climbing up into his saddle. As we put the walls of the manor behind us and started south, I breathed a little easier.
Two days down the road, I sat beside Quintin to replace the bandage on his shoulder as Will cooked the brace of rabbits we’d shot that afternoon. His leg had healed up well, but the second wound had been the worse of the two. The deep tissues were knitting slowly, and there was still a good ways to go before it closed completely.
“This would be a lot easier if you just removed the damned shirt,” I grumbled, tugging at the neck of his tunic to get decent access to the soiled bandage.
His face was shuttered. “You’ll manage.”
I worked at the knot with my fingers. “So what exactly do you Tuvrians talk about when no one else can hear?” I asked in my most conversational tone.
He eyed me sidelong. “And why should I tell you?”
I shrugged. “Just curious.”
Gaze fixed on the fire, his mouth twitched in a private smile. “He wanted to know how I managed to beat him when he was so clearly the better swordsman.”
“And?” I pressed as I unwound the length of muslin.
He glanced at me. “I told him I had something to fight for.”
My hands slowed, and I slipped the last of the fabric from his shoulder, not daring to meet his eyes.
“Home,” he added, and I exhaled a breath I’d not noticed I was holding.
Setting the soiled bandage aside, I examined the angry gash. “We should let that air for a bit,” I murmured.
“How’s it look?” Will asked cheerfully, wandering over to take a peek. He twisted his face at the sight of it. “Must’ve hurt.”
“Not so bad,” Quintin replied, voice thick with sarcasm. “Come here, I’ll show you.” Pulling his belt knife from its sheath, he reached out to snatch at Will as he dodged out of range.
I swatted at him, laughing. Will slumped down against a log beside the fire. “Surely you’ve already gotten your fair share of scars,” I prompted him.
He flashed me a mischievous grin. “A few.” Lifting his shirt, he showed off a particularly nasty one on the side of his abdomen. “Got this one fightin’ over a girl when I was fifteen.” Lifting his chin, he pointed at a faint white line along the underside of his jaw. “Gave me this one herself a year later.”
I raised a brow at him. “What did you do to her?”
Green eyes glinted wickedly. “She didn’t like what I did to her sister.”
“Scoundrel!” I scoffed, hurling a nearby stick at him.
He batted it away and tossed it into the flames as we laughed. Turning the rabbits on their spit, he sobered. “She was a right bonfire, that one. As pretty as she was crazy. Never sa
w a better cutpurse, though.”
I considered asking what had happened to her but thought better of it. “First love leaves scars on us all.” My fingers found my ribs, tracing the long, raised ridge beneath my tunic. I thought of James, and of Adrian’s fingers upon it. I would never hurt you. Doubt lingered doggedly in the back of my mind, conflict tugging at my chest. Two years was a very long time.
As we ate, we chatted amicably about our various youthful escapades and the permanent marks they’d left on our skin. Will had an eventful childhood and a knack for storytelling, so we let him do most of the talking. He was a charming and gregarious travel companion, and I was glad for his presence.
Tucked in my bedroll in the darkness, I wondered if I would still be able to follow through on my sober claim to kill my oath-sworn young man, should the desperate need arise. Then I remembered the damp dark and the red priest’s gentle voice and knew I could. Any death was better than what they would do to us, given the chance.
Two more days brought us within sight of Lord Euzoni’s manor. We camped in the open fields, firming up our plan for the next day as we chewed stale bread and dried meat.
“I assume you stopped here last time as well?” I asked, my eyes on Quintin. He nodded with regret. After Tuvria, I’d questioned him at length about the extent of his interactions on his previous trek through the eastern provinces. Though he offered nothing about the marks on his back, he made it clear that his last visits had been acrimonious at best. “Then Will must go alone.”
“Alone?” he startled around his mouthful of bread.
Fixing him with a solemn gaze, I pressed. “Lord Tuvre picked me out straight away, and they will remember Quintin. We need someone they don’t know to deliver the message. Do you think you can do it without us?”
His green eyes flicked between us, excitement carefully muted by his sense of the gravity of my request. If he faltered or was challenged, we would not be there to back him up. Nodding eagerly, he swallowed. “I think so, yes.”
I flashed him a reassuring smile. “Then you’re our lead tomorrow. Don’t mention either of us by name unless absolutely necessary.” I gave him a few other pointers and made him recite the petition once more before we slept.
A Crown of Lilies Page 55