A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  It was worse, even, than I’d thought. Not only had he risked discovery at the various garrisons he had been sent to rally, but he’d also faced at least three floggings as he visited the same noble Houses we had over the last two months. I remembered Ewan’s sneering taunt, his predatory gaze, the blatant masochism that threaded through every inch of his countenance.

  “He hurt you,” I realized aloud, anger plain on my face.

  The corner of Quintin’s mouth quirked. “Quite enjoyed it, I think.”

  I pulled away from him to make for the camp, determined to enjoy myself at Lord Ewan’s expense, but a callused hand caught my wrist and held. He knew me. He knew my temper.

  “No, Elivya,” he protested firmly.

  I whirled on him, the beast somersaulting in my chest, yearning for violence. “As if I didn’t have reason enough to kill him before,” I hissed.

  His other hand grabbed my shoulder, holding me in place. “It’s just our way,” he insisted, keeping a grip on me until my anger cooled in the face of his unwavering calm. I might not understand, but whatever cruelty had been visited upon him, he was at peace with it. His suffering was not mine to avenge, same as mine was not his.

  We made our way back to camp to find Will stoking the coals for breakfast. “There you are,” he greeted us. Somehow, he’d gotten his hands on some eggs and a slab of ham, all of which sizzled enticingly in the cook pot.

  “Where in the hells did you get that?” I gaped, my mouth watering.

  He flashed me a wicked grin. “The Queen’s cook has taken a liking to me.”

  I turned to Quintin, who tilted his head in confirmation. “It’s true, he managed a pair of pheasant and some fresh bread not three nights past.”

  We devoured every bit of it in good spirits, reminiscing in detail about sumptuous feasts and delicacies. Will was listing his favorite desserts in descending order when one of Selice’s Queen’s Guard came to fetch me. Quintin and I followed him back to the command camp and into the massive black and tan tent. The same company lingered within, chatting quietly as they waited for the final members to arrive. One new face among the crowd caught my eye.

  “High Priestess Valia,” I greeted her, bobbing a deferential bow. She smiled kindly at me in her pale green robes, taking my hands in hers.

  “Hello, child.” There were a few streaks of silver in her brown curls. I’d not noticed, before.

  “I hoped I might speak with you,” I pressed hurriedly, glancing sidelong at Selice.

  She tilted her head gracefully at me. “After?”

  Nodding, I thanked her as Reyus called us to order. We crowded around the table and waited for our queen to speak. Lord Nicholas scowled stiffly at me and I was glad for Quintin’s bracing presence behind my right shoulder. Ewan’s smug face spurred another wave of anger in my gut, but I forced it to stillness and focused on the battle ahead.

  “Tonight is the solstice, gentlemen,” Selice began. Chin high, her regal demeanor had returned and I silently thanked Colin. “Tomorrow morning, I will leave you to rejoin the western forces.”

  “It will take us two days to move into position and re-establish the camp in the fields outside the city.” Reyus’ piercing gaze swept our faces. “On the third, we march for Litheria.”

  “I will ride out to meet their commanders under a flag of parley,” the Queen continued steadily. “When we fail to come to terms, I will fall back to the rear. Lord Ewan will accompany us to help coordinate the stepped retreat and flanking maneuvers he so cleverly proposed.” The young lord of House Saviren bowed graciously. I was fairly certain I had been the only one to catch the hint of sarcasm in her voice until I saw a glint of bitter amusement in Reyus’ pale eyes.

  Arrogant boy. Let him see firsthand the lives he so callously disregards.

  It was a good plan, and I’d no doubt that without Ewan’s tactical mind, we would not have come up with such a well-vetted strategy. I still hated him.

  Selice continued, one elegant hand reaching out to trace the walls of the city on the map. “Once the bulk of our forces have established control of the field, Lady Lazerin and her men will open the gates. Lord Tuvre, Lord Euzoni, you will each take a handful of your most disciplined companies into the city. With the help of General Brenna’s Freyjans, you will secure Litheria and take the castle.” I watched Nicholas at that last. He stiffened unhappily in his black doublet but made no protest. Whatever Reyus had said to him, he would swallow his pride for the cause. Golden eyes swept our silent faces sternly. “The emperor and his wife should be taken alive if possible, but risk no injury to my brother. His safety is paramount.” Her gaze landed on me. “And no one touches the priest. I want him alive. Am I understood?”

  A murmur of acquiescence rippled through us and I gave her a discreet nod of thanks as she dismissed us. Our battle plans set, there was little left to do but wait.

  In the meantime, I found Valia and spoke with her at length about my death and rebirth. Walking through the forest, she listened silently as I told her of my visions in the dead city and showed her the length of white silk that had returned me from the far side of the veil. Delicate hands touched the fabric with reverence, but she had no new answers for me. When I pressed her about the sunbursts in my eyes, she smiled and told me much of the same that Selice herself had: Adulil had claimed me as one of His own. What that meant, and what my purpose might be, she could not say. There was only the path and the knowledge that I must follow it to the end.

  I felt the beast inside my chest coiling and uncoiling. “And what of rage?” I asked hesitantly. It caught her off-guard. She glanced at me curiously as I tried to explain, struggling for the right words. “There is a... creature... inside me; a dark shadow yearning for violence, for retribution.” I couldn’t keep the fear from my voice. “What if the purpose I was meant to fulfill has been poisoned? What if I’m too broken to find the right path?”

  She turned to face me, taking my hands in hers. Her touch was warm, hazel eyes meeting mine without judgment. “The Mother made us as we are, the good and the bad. There is no right path, only our own path.”

  “And the darkness?” I pressed hopefully.

  “Perhaps it is the means to an end, a guide to see you through these difficult times.” She saw that wasn’t what I wanted to hear, and squeezed my hands. “I’m sorry, I wish there was a clearer answer. What happened to you is unheard of, to my knowledge.” She smiled in an effort to reassure, seeing through to the heart of my doubts. One warm hand found my cheek in a motherly gesture. “Rage does not make you evil, Elivya. It merely makes you human. Adulil would not have claimed you if he thought otherwise.”

  Her words were a balm on my troubled soul. As we headed back toward the camp, I thought of Selice and her struggle to find herself worthy of her people’s sacrifice.

  “I wonder if you might consider one last request.”

  She eyed me with a small grin. “What did you have in mind?”

  I told her. Though surprised at first, she quickly took a liking to the idea and was determined to see it realized. Thanking her for her counsel, I left her and returned to my companions.

  Quintin paced agitatedly as Will lounged on the ground. They both turned toward my boot steps with concern. I gave them a reassuring smile and we spent the remainder of the afternoon planning our own course of action. We would linger in the camp for one more night, departing for Kingston under cover of darkness on the next.

  Will agreed to see the Queen’s cook about supplies before her retinue left the next morning. The armies of Tuvre were well-equipped, with a sizable supply train nearby, but we had no reason to expect their generosity. Quintin used some of our remaining coin to buy a scavenged pair of chausses off one of the soldiers nearby. The straps were broken and they were poor quality, but it didn’t matter. The padding was all he wanted. I sat with him and watched as he worked patiently to replace a few layers of the hardened leather with the dense wool. It was tedious work.

&nb
sp; As night fell, Will returned with a reasonable sack of supplies and the smell of a woman on his skin. He flashed us a wolfish smile as he dropped the satchel and slumped down onto the ground near us.

  “How’s it coming?” he asked, jutting his chin at my shield.

  Quintin was tying the last stitch, the heavy leather needle in one hand. “Almost done.”

  Digging in the newly-acquired supplies, I began working at a modest supper for the three of us. Pulling a small wrap of cloth from the bag, I gave it an appreciative sniff and turned to Will with surprise. “Butter?”

  A proud grin split his face.

  “Finished,” Quintin murmured, examining his handiwork with quiet satisfaction. Will took over the dinner preparations so I could test the adjustments. Buckling the shield into place, I twisted my left arm every which way, pounding on it with my right to test the feel of an impact. It was lighter now, closer to my previous one, with the same familiar range of motion I’d enjoyed before. There was no kidskin liner, but the wool was soft enough.

  “Perfect,” I smiled at him with enthusiastic thanks. The look on his face made my heart ache, hard lines of his stubbled jaw softened with muted tenderness.

  “Beef or rabbit?” Will broke our moment of private reverie, holding up two wraps of dried meat.

  “Beef,” I replied decisively. “And use up those chives. They won’t travel well.”

  He murmured in agreement and I helped cut potatoes as he fetched some fresh water. While the dried meat softened in the pot, I scavenged for herbs in the forest. Humming one of Izikiel’s wandering tunes, I thanked him silently for all of his teachings. As I hunted, I stumbled upon a small clearing, the dusk light illuminating a patch of white lilies in full bloom. Smiling, I knelt, fingertips grazing their velvet petals. I cut a generous number of them, along with some heaven’s breath nearby, and returned to the campfire well-laden. Both men eyed me curiously as I handed the herbs to Will and gestured to Quintin to accompany me. He followed without question as I strode through the camp to Selice’s tent. Her handmaid Trina stood outside, shaking out the white cotton gown the Queen had worn the day before.

  “These are for her, for tonight,” I explained, nodding to the pavilion. “Can you make a wreath for her?” She draped the dress over one shoulder and accepted the armful of flowers with confusion. I eyed her sheepishly. “I’m afraid I never learned how.” I’d spent my youth throwing mud and stealing horses. I hadn’t the skills to make what I wanted from the forest’s fragrant gift.

  Understanding, she smiled and nodded to me, and I left it in her capable hands.

  “What’s tonight?” Quintin finally broke his silence as we picked our way back toward our tents.

  “Her coronation.”

  The moon shone down in all her glory, splashing silver through the trees as we gathered deep in the forest near a gentle bend in the river. Torches ringed the clearing, held by the Queen’s dutiful guard. Selice stood before us, radiant in her white gown, the High Priestess presiding. Around me gathered our allies, the noble Houses at the fore with innumerable common folk behind. Soldiers and cooks, porters and captains, they crowded the trees in silence to see their queen.

  Valia raised her voice above the assembled masses, her brown curls lit red in the torchlight. “The King has passed beyond the veil to the far shore,” she began. “The Mother has called him home, as She does us all, but the blood of Adulil endures. She who stands before you is the sun reborn, the sacred wheat made flesh.” The priestess turned to face Selice, who stood solemnly and humbly before her. Each of her three ladies-in-waiting lingered nearby, two with bowls and one with the lily wreath.

  Valia took the first bowl into her own hands. “Selice fen Adulil,” she addressed the Queen so all could hear. “You hold in your veins the gift of the Mother’s grace. Upon your shoulders rests the stewardship of all Alesians.” She didn’t falter, under the weight of such a monumental charge. She had been born to lead, raised from childhood with the knowledge of her duty. “Do you swear to hold your people’s welfare above all else?”

  Selice held out her hands, cupped before her as Valia poured the bowl of soil into them. “I swear,” her golden voice replied somberly.

  “Do you swear to honor them, to guide them, and to guard them against all enemies?”

  A bowl of water was emptied over her cupped palms. “I swear.”

  “And do you swear to love them, unerringly, unwaveringly, as Adulil Himself did?”

  At that, I saw her beautiful face soften, eyes glistening in the moonlight. “I swear.”

  Valia pressed an acorn into the wet soil, and we watched as our queen knelt and deposited her handful into a small recess in the earth at her feet. Patiently, gingerly, she settled the infant oak into the ground, packing the dirt loosely around it. As she stood, palms darkened with soil, the priestess settled the lily crown upon her head.

  Her warm voice echoed into the forest. “All hail Queen Selice fen Adulil.”

  We knelt, every one of us, heads bowed in the moonlight. When she bid us rise, we obeyed silently and held our collective breath. Gods, she was so beautiful. Her pale gold locks fell in silver waves flecked with torchlight. The wreath upon her head practically glowed. She folded her hands before her, pressing the traces of soil between her palms as she steeled herself to address her people.

  Her exceptional gaze swept us, a determined set to her shoulders. “My father told me that to rule well, one must love the thief and the traitor as much as the priest and the crofter.” Her eyes paused on me for the barest moment before moving on. “Whatever you may be, know that my heart is yours.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, reaching for Quintin’s hand beside me in the dark. His fingers laced with mine as effortlessly as an exhale, my heart swelling and aching all the more.

  “This is our home, our land.” She pointed unerringly toward Litheria far in the distance. “That is our city.” Folding her hands once more, she projected over the gathered masses. “Persica thinks we are all but beaten. We shall show them the error of that assumption.” A few murmurs and low chuckles rippled through the proud soldiers in our midst. The corner of her mouth quirked in a hint of a smile, and she renewed the sentiment that had birthed our rebellion so many months ago. “Ride with me, and let us take back what is ours.”

  The cheer that erupted nearly split my ears, but I didn’t care. I raised my own in solidarity with them. She was our queen, and she would ride to war for her people.

  Many lingered in excited celebration, the noble blood among us hovering around Selice to offer oaths of allegiance and congratulations. She accepted them graciously, love clearly writ on her face as some of the common folk made their way through the throng to her. Just as she had in the forest of Laezon, she held their hands warmly and thanked them for their loyalty.

  The remnants of House Lazerin hung back in the shadows, watching from afar as my parents had done so long ago. I understood better, now, than I had back then. Through deeds and loyalty, we prove our fealty to the Crown. Selice knew I was hers, in blood and bone, to my last breath. Catching her eye across the clearing, we exchanged a silent smile and a nod before our small party slipped away back toward the camp.

  As we neared the smoldering cook fire of our small site, Quintin’s hand slipped from mine, a grievous loss, my palm empty and incomplete without his touch. The night had grown late and the three of us retired without much ado, despite the sounds of levity echoing through the encampment around us. Tomorrow, we would ride for Kingston, and our part in the battle that awaited us there.

  I sat in my tent, unbuckling my shield as my mind churned. The lid I’d kept so tightly sealed had cracked open, warmth and ache and trembling uncertainty pouring out to fill every empty space inside my skin. Sliding the gauntlet from my arm, I fingered the wool padding within, each stitch a piece of him, a testament to his constancy.

  Pulling my boots off, I traced the pale scars on my feet and remembered the look on h
is face when Will had delivered my brutalized corpse to Tommy’s hideout. He’d foundered two horses to get back to me, to pull me from that hell, and I’d called him a coward and a bastard for it. The memory tugged at my gut with guilt. Nonetheless, he’d stayed, spooning stew into my mouth and changing my bandages. He’d always stayed, even when I’d given him every reason to leave.

  I wondered when things had changed between us, as I unlaced my breastplate and pulled it over my head, setting it carefully aside. I recalled the night of the battle and the fear that had gripped me at our final farewell. Then, surely, though I’d not been willing to admit it, even to myself. There was so much, even before then, too much to pinpoint a single moment. As I lay atop my bedroll in the warm night air, I played over every memory in my head, the scent of lilies lingering in my mind.

  My bare feet padded across the dirt as I slipped from my tent. Will’s snores rang softly into the night, a comforting and familiar sound. I hesitated outside his tent, but gathered my resolve and ducked quietly through the flap. Blue eyes met mine, wide awake in the darkness. Kneeling carefully under the low canvas beside him, I held his gaze, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched for his reaction.

  One arm raised in invitation, a poignant echo of that night before the battle. I’d needed the comfort of human contact, the reassurance of a trusted friend. This was altogether different. He sat up when I hesitated, propping himself on one arm and searching my face, his own betraying a tide of reluctant yearning. One rough hand reached to cup my cheek, and I caught it against my face with my own, closing my eyes and leaning into his touch.

  Gods, it hurt. I thought my heart would shatter.

  He pulled me to him, then, and his kiss was sunlight, illuminating every darkness inside my skin. Wheat hair slid silken through my fingers, spun gold in the pale starlight. Desire rolled over me like the ocean, a bottomless well of aching need that ebbed and flowed between us. I longed to pour every drop of myself into him, to seize every piece of his body as part of my own. His touch made me want to weep, fingertips mapping every scar beneath the light of the midsummer moon. Hands and lips and tongue laid claim in a patient conquest of infinite tenderness. Every trembling breath was captured and returned in kind.