A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  The next morning, it began to rain as we packed camp. By the time we made our way to the gates of House Euzoni, it was an all-out downpour. We hugged our cloaks tightly, hiding in our hoods as Will shouted our intentions to the gate guard. Ushered into the cover of the stable, we slipped from the saddle. A man came to greet us, ducking through the rain. As rehearsed, Quintin and I hovered by our mounts, doing our utmost to look like a pair of armed guards who had every intention of waiting with the horses as Will showed the servant the Queen’s seal, along with the letter from Lord Nicholas.

  To my immense relief, it worked. They disappeared into the house, leaving us to linger in the stable for nearly two hours. We dared not speak, as stable hands and guards came and went through the barn around us. Exchanging concerned glances, we could do nothing but wait, seated on straw bales and worrying. Finally, I heard his boot steps rushing across the wet cobblestones toward us, and stood. He looked nerve-wracked, but I couldn’t tell if it was for good or ill.

  “The servants’ quarters are full,” he informed us, eyeing a nearby stable boy. “But we are welcome to shelter here until the storms break.”

  The rain continued through the day, and we resolved to pass the night in the barn, not daring to speak of it until the last of the servants had retired for the evening. Three bowls of stew and some crusty bread were brought out to us by a kind-faced kitchen girl. I offered her a coin but she waved me off, doing a double-take when she caught sight of my eyes. Propriety won out over curiosity, and she turned from us to flee back through the rain. A woman courier might not be so unbelievable a sight. For all she knew, one of my companions was my husband. The gold sunbursts, though, that would set her talking. It didn’t matter. We’d be long gone by the time any of it reached Lord Euzoni’s ears, and I doubted the words of a scullery maid held much sway in that part of Alesia.

  When we were finally, blessedly alone, I turned my impatient gaze upon him. Will’s face split in a proud grin. “It’s done.” I shook my head, gesturing for more. “The letters did most of the work, though he had plenty of questions. Didn’t like it much at first, but I talked him around. Not much different from talking a merchant out of his coin purse, to be honest.”

  “And he has no idea who we are?” Quintin pressed in disbelief.

  Will shrugged. “Didn’t need to bring it up. He was satisfied dealing with a faceless courier.”

  I laughed, slapping his shoulder hard in my joy. After the harrowing difficulty of our first petition, the ease of our second seemed impossible to credit.

  “Tommy’s boy, indeed,” I beamed at him.

  “Yours now, miss,” he reminded me with a grin.

  The loft was comfortable enough and I was thankful the rains had waited for us to reach cover. We’d brought a single modest tent, but camping in such weather is miserable work. Dry and warm, we slept and woke early to set out once more under clear skies.

  Savern lay five days to the south, and we made up some of the time we’d lost in Tuvria during that leg of the journey. Laezon horses are known for their endurance, among other carefully-bred traits, and we pushed them hard. The more time we could give Lord Saviren to gather his forces, the better.

  With the success of our second petition, we agreed to try the same approach again. Will led the way into the courtyard, the sun high and warm overhead. It was too hot for cloaks, and to keep mine would have been conspicuous, so I focused instead on keeping my eyes averted from any who glanced at me. A young lord emerged to greet us, tall and lanky with a short crop of auburn hair. Close behind, a woman trailed, back straight and eyes forward. Silver had nearly overtaken the brown in her long braid. The shape of her nose told me she was likely his mother.

  I shouldn’t have looked. I couldn’t help it. Her carriage and her demeanor were so markedly different from any I’d seen in the women we’d encountered among the scions of Tuvre. Hawk-like eyes locked on to me and I quickly turned away, kicking myself.

  Will made his introductions to Lord Saviren as we dismounted and I hid behind Valor’s stout frame, fidgeting with our pack horse’s halter.

  “Perhaps we might speak alone, my lord? My companions can wait here for me.” Will had grown confident in light of his previous success. I flinched as he spoke. The tone of his voice was too suggestive, and in this company, it wouldn’t go over well.

  “Nonsense,” came the stiff response, and the lot of us were ushered inside. Ducking behind Quintin, I followed them into the house.

  The stone manor was more handsomely appointed than the stark, militaristic homes of the previous two lords we’d entreated. Even the foyer glowed with a woman’s touch. The common room directly adjacent was comfortably arranged with furniture, carpets, paintings, and even a vase of flowers in one corner. Every piece was of fine quality without being ostentatious.

  A diligent servant closed the door behind us as we were escorted into a stately study. I couldn’t help but catch my breath at the sheer number of books. It was more than I’d seen even in the Chamberlain manor. Shelves along every wall groaned under their weight. Stacks of volumes teetered in corners and on tables. A large desk was nearly buried in piles of letters and maps. I hung back, glancing around as inconspicuously as possible from behind my two male counterparts.

  Will pulled the final two letters from his satchel, every ounce the dignified courier. I feared he might press on without prompting, but he had the caution to wait to be addressed. The young lord turned to face us, his mother hovering close by. I could still feel her watching me.

  “We expected you months ago,” he began curtly.

  I sensed Will’s surprise, but he glided through without hesitation. “Forgive me, my lord. It was a difficult winter.” He held out the letters. “Her Majesty Queen Selice fen Adulil is poised to reclaim her throne from the Persican invaders. She asks that you honor your allegiance to the blood of Adulil and send every available resource to her aid.”

  Dark eyes crinkled in amusement. We waited as he broke the golden seal and read with surprising deftness, eyes flicking across the page. Here was a man who was wholly not what I had expected. Handing the first to his mother, he cracked the second wax emblem and I noticed the barest twitch of a smirk at the corner of his lips as he scanned Lord Nicholas’ letter. This, too, he passed to her and she read both as he returned his attention to us.

  “I’d love to hear how you won Nicholas to your cause, given the circumstances.” Dark eyes flicked to Quintin. “The old bloodlines are not quick to forgive.” He considered my wheat-haired guardian with a tilt of his head. “How’s the back?”

  I bristled at that, but his broad mass shifted to block me from sight. “Healed, my lord. Thank you for your concern.”

  My reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. The Lady of Saviren watched me, eyes piercing through my meager disguise. Here was a den of wolves every bit as dangerous as the Van Dryn household. I steeled myself, drawing my mind about the task and digging for my mother’s training. I’d a feeling I would need every bit of it.

  “Good to hear,” he replied genuinely. “Your last visit was so brief, we’d barely a chance to read your missive before you left. I do hope you intend to linger a bit longer, this time.” When Quintin didn’t respond, he pressed on casually, raising his voice a touch. “Unless you’ve another appointment, of course, Lady Lazerin.”

  I straightened, pressing slowly through my companions to stand at the fore. He had his mother’s hawkish eyes, and both of them bored into me. Holding my ground, I met them, unflinching.

  I line my cloaks with wolves’ pelts.

  “Only one, Lord Ewan, though after two years, surely it can wait a bit longer.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before I could identify it. “What is it you want, my lady?” he asked, an edge to his voice that suggested infinite patience.

  “My queen requests as many resources as-”

  “Not the Queen,” he cut me off, holding up one slender hand. “You.”
/>   I shifted my weight, considering him. Ewan was nearly of an age with me, but far more confident with it. Despite his predatory demeanor, I sensed something else in him; a kind of curious regard. Whether it be for me or our mission, I couldn’t yet tell. Gauging it worth the gamble, I settled one hand on the hilt of my knife and answered honestly.

  “Retribution.”

  He nodded, just barely. “The priest.”

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  Ewan prowled slowly toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “And what are you willing to trade for my aid in this?”

  A hint of warning, of fear, piqued in the back of my mind, but I raised my chin determinedly. I could not afford to show weakness.

  “Anything.”

  He halted before me, a half-step closer than could be considered appropriate, and I felt Quintin tense behind my right shoulder. A slender hand reached up to trace my chin, tilting it upward with one finger.

  “Even yourself?” he murmured, hot breath on my face. I stiffened beneath his touch, blood rising at the indecent proposal. He was a man, beneath it all.

  The beast in my chest twisted and coiled. Anything, it hissed. I trembled, my heart seizing in horror as my own truth was laid bare to me.

  “Now wait just a moment,” Will began to protest angrily. At the same time, Quintin’s hand reached for his dagger.

  “Yes.” My voice rang clear into the small space between us. Both of my loyal companions froze. “Yes,” I affirmed in a miserable whisper. I would do anything, anything, no matter the cost. Ewan himself stilled, eyes narrowing as he peered down into my upturned face. I set my jaw, the truth of it carving a hole in what little remained of my pride. “Whatever it takes, to see it done.”

  After a long, tense moment, he released me and stepped back. Tilting his head toward his mother, he addressed her, still considering me with a mild amusement. “Satisfied?”

  “Well enough,” she responded, folding the letters in her hands. “You’ll have to forgive us, Lady Lazerin. We needed to be sure.”

  I was sweating in my tunic. “Sure of what?” My voice sounded small in my own ears.

  She took a few casual steps forward. “That you are your mother’s daughter.”

  “I am Elivya fen Lazerin, Damien and Nefira’s daughter.” My voice trembled.

  “You are Aileana’s daughter,” she corrected.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, forcing myself to calm. “How do you know that name?”

  One corner of her mouth curled in a wry smile. “My late husband was Amenon’s spymaster before she showed up in Damien’s quarters in the middle of the night.” I waited, counting every breath. “Your parents were willing to do anything to win his war.” She tilted her predatory eyes at me. “I needed to be sure you would do the same.”

  “Your queen has called for your aid, not me,” I protested, fear gradually giving way to anger.

  “A missive is only as trustworthy as the messenger. And you are known to enjoy a good forgery.”

  I bristled. “That was different.”

  She waved me off. “You needn’t explain to me, girl. Savern has just as much coastline as Daria.” A thought crossed her face. “You are headed to see Lord Van Dryn next?”

  “Yes.”

  Eyes flicked to and from me with a hint of pity. “You have heard he’s married.”

  “Merely vicious rumors, I’m sure,” I muttered without conviction, holding the crumbling pieces of myself together.

  “You mean you agreed to my price even though you believe yourself betrothed to another?” Ewan scoffed in disbelief.

  “Adrian would understand,” I replied, my voice hollow.

  “Good gods, woman, have you no dignity?” Tuvrian, after all, then.

  I fixed him with an empty stare. “Subject to the cause, my lord.” Both sets of hawkish eyes watched me as I withered inside myself in shame and doubt. The shell remained, true to the task at hand. “Can we rely on your aid?”

  A long silence stretched, and the Lord and Lady Saviren exchanged a look. “You can,” he said solemnly.

  I bowed. “Her Majesty thanks you for your loyalty in this time of great need.”

  Turning on my heel, I fled.

  Chapter 26

  Neither of them spoke to me for the rest of the day. We made camp at dusk, going about our usual chores in silence. I took my time brushing down the horses a fair distance from the fire, buried in my own miserable thoughts. The cruel voices that had tormented me after the attack in Dockside re-emerged with brutal fervor. In crude and merciless terms, they berated me ceaselessly within the confines of my mind. I hadn’t the will to silence them, knowing they merely spoke the hateful truth.

  After a while, Will approached with hesitant steps, holding out a hunk of hardtack to me in a gesture of peace. I shook my head with a rueful smile, waving him off.

  “You must eat, miss,” he pressed.

  “I’m fine, Will.”

  “You’re not,” he argued gently.

  “Leave it be,” I begged him.

  “I’ll not let you tear yourself to pieces over it.” He was stubborn, my oath-sworn young man. “It isn’t right.”

  My hands stilled and I leaned against Valor’s shoulder. “I would have done it, Will. I would have sold myself like livestock.”

  I heard him swallow. “For the Queen. For Alesia.”

  A sharp laugh hissed through my lips. “For revenge.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t believe that.” I glanced past him at Quintin’s back, hunched before the fire. Will noticed, following my gaze over his shoulder as I turned my focus back to the brush in my hand. “He’ll see the truth of it, don’t worry.”

  “He does see, Will. He knows me better than anyone.” I met his green eyes, misery plain in my own. “Now please leave me be.”

  Another long, silent day of travel put us just inside the eastern border of Daria. For the first time in weeks, we saw the formidable presence of our enemy. Groups of soldiers patrolled the roads, often accompanied by a priest in red robes. I shuddered at the sight of them and averted my eyes. At Will’s suggestion, we stopped at a reputable inn at a well-traveled crossroads for the night. The rooms were small and modest, but available, and we paid for three beds and hot meals. Quintin still wasn’t speaking to me, but Will made repeated attempts to engage us both in conversation as we hunkered over our plates of stewed beef and roasted potatoes.

  “We’ve about two weeks before the solstice. Maybe three,” he rambled conversationally. “If we get through this last petition quickly, we could spend a day or two in Venici on our way back.”

  Pushing his half-eaten plate away, Quintin stood and left us without a word. We both watched as he stalked out the front door, baldric rattling. Will flashed me an apologetic grimace. I squeezed his arm reassuringly and gathered my courage. Following my long-suffering guardian out into the night, I found him in the stables, pacing like a caged animal. I halted a short distance from him, unsure what to say. He heard me approach, turning his moon-silvered eyes my way. I fought to conceal a flinch at the anger in them. If I’d any lingering doubts, they were quickly erased. Here was a man who despised me as much as he ever had.

  “You’re better than that,” he growled at me, hands clenched into fists.

  I exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh. “No,” I replied, shaking my head sadly. The shame that had eaten at me for days had been replaced by a sense of self-awareness I’d rarely felt in my life. “No, this is what I am, what they made me.” He eyed me with barely-concealed disgust. It hurt. “I am not my father, Quintin.”

  “Clearly,” he snapped, and I couldn’t help but wince, then. I watched him bite his tongue and take a calming breath. Frustration still lingered in his voice, though he made a concerted effort to soften it as he stared at his boots. “I know that. I do. I know exactly who and what you are.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was meant as a comfort or a criticism, so I measured my reply carefully. “I wonder, t
hen, why you are so angry with me.”

  Shifting his feet, he settled his hands on his hips and raised his gaze to mine in earnest. “I would have killed him, Elivya. Tuvre be damned, if he’d tried, I would have gladly run him through.”

  The calm confession took me aback. He was beholden to the oath of his people, as was any Tuvrian. He had the scars to bear witness to his penance when he had forsaken it. It struck me suddenly that his disgust wasn’t for my acquiescence to Ewan’s proposition. That wasn’t why he was angry. He was angry because he knew that, because of my actions, he would have willingly betrayed his oath again.

  I clung to what fragments of my steadiness remained. “I’m sorry,” I said with genuine remorse. “I’m sorry I put you in that position, but I do not belong to you, Quintin.” My heart ached at the thought, but I silenced it and pressed on. “I will do whatever it takes to see Solomon pay for what he has done.”

  “You don’t belong to anyone,” he retorted stiffly. “I will not watch you play another man’s whore for your damned vengeance.”

  “You do not decide for me,” I snapped, my lip curling.

  “Because I’m not your damned Sea Wolf?” he snarled back, gesturing angrily toward the south. “Even Adrian would have slit his throat, and you know it.”

  I bit my tongue at the mention of his name and failed to keep the hurt and doubt from my face. Quintin saw, as he always does, compassion tempering his anger.

  “You believe them, don’t you? The rumors.”

  Stifling my bitterness as best I could, I stared into the darkness and avoided his gaze. “Lady Saviren believed it. Even if she could manage to fool me, she had no reason to lie.” A single unconfirmed whisper halfway across the country was one thing. A second, merely a few days’ ride from the Van Dryn estate, left little doubt. I may not have been able to recall what it felt like to love him, but I had once, and the near-certainty of his betrayal burned me.