The Emerald Lily

by Juliette Cross

  “Thank you, Lord Maksim. Here it is.” Lifting her eyes to the tiers of lords who held her fate in their hands—everyone’s fate for that matter—she said, “I petition this most reverent House to bestow upon me my birthright. To crown me as the sovereign Queen of Arkadia.”

  Loud murmurs and grumbling swept the chamber. Lord Rathbone hammered the gavel several times as one of the lords in the lowest tier stood.

  “Lord Hanson, you have the floor,” said Rathbone.

  “Your Highness,” he began respectfully. “By what right do you ask for this petition now?”

  “By what right do you keep it from me?”

  She kept her voice level and steady even as her knees trembled. She needed these men behind her. To claim the crown wasn’t enough. She must have a kingdom behind her or it was pointless. She must not cower but show strength.

  “Begging your pardon,” Lord Hanson continued, “but you have laid out before us that you have as much allied with the Black Lily, the exiled prince, and this Bloodguard.”

  Friedrich raised his hand. “And don’t forget the exiled Duke of Winter Hill.”

  Now the murmurings escalated to new heights. They obviously saw Friedrich and understood his reason for being here, and yet not until he made it quite clear where he stood did they react.

  “As you can see, Lord Hanson,” she continued, stepping from behind the podium but remaining on the dais, her hands folded demurely before her, “factions of the Varis family are breaking away from the queen. But let me answer your first question.” Her voice rose, and she sensed an internal fire sparking to life, tingling along her skin like a magical mantel to protect her, to guide her. “I have the right to petition for my immediate coronation because I am Vilhelmina Dragomir, daughter of the just and rightful King Holland Dragomir. The blood that flows in my veins flowed in that of our founding father, my great-great-grandfather King Thormand Dragomir, who conquered this territory and claimed it for his people, the only kingdom still not under the tyrannical rule of the Glass Tower.” She spoke treason against the queen, and yet it felt more like victory. “As the last living descendant of Thormand Dragomir, I am your rightful sovereign of this great land, and I pledge my life to rule as my father did before me.”

  Her voice had reached a fever pitch, roaring to the height of the dome. Lords lifted up their scepters and banged them on the stone, cheers swelling high.

  “Hold!” Lord Grable of the Pierson Province stood and raised his hand.

  Lord Rathbone hammered the gavel again.

  “Your Highness!” The knocking of the scepters on the floor dimmed, giving this particular vampire lord due respect. “You are correct. You are our rightful sovereign. But is it your intention to force us into war against the Glass Tower? I admire the heart of the human army of the Black Lily and these few men of the Bloodguard, but this force of her vampire army along with King Dominik’s is too formidable.”

  “My lord, I cannot and will not force anyone to do anything. I am not the tyrant Queen Morgrid.” She emphasized the last with vehemence. “But mark me well. War is coming. If you ignore this call, you will fall, just as the Black Lily will without the help of the Arkadians. You will lose more than your queen into the hands of King Dominik, for I can promise you I will die before I become his wife.”

  She caught the slightest movement of Mikhail below her, his hands fisted at his sides. She continued.

  “The queen will not be satisfied until she owns us all under the dark veil she plans to spread over our lands. Until our soil is soaked in the blood of your wives and sons and daughters. The blood of my people.” She pressed a fist to her heart. “Do you really want to wait until that shadow falls on your doorsteps—for it will should the Black Lily fail—and then you will wonder why you didn’t fight when you had the chance? When your queen asked you to.”

  A hush fell upon them all. She waited, holding Lord Grable’s gaze. Finally, he lifted his scepter and raised it in the air, “Hail, Queen Vilhelmina!”

  A cacophony of cheers and resounding echoes of Lord Grable reverberated in the forum, scepters pounding on the floor. Mina’s heart swelled with such love and pride she could hardly bear it. Then Lord Rathbone was at the foot of the dais, offering his hand near the steps. He had a square of cloth tucked under his arm. She let him lead her down to the hall floor while cheers continued.

  He leaned in close. “Well done. You nearly had me swooning at your feet.”

  “I find that highly unlikely.”

  He chuckled before sobering his face for the crowd with a hand in the air. When they’d all taken their seats, he continued, “Due to the dire state of the land abroad and because a formal coronation would put our sovereign’s life at risk, we can afford no formal ceremony as Her Highness deserves. Therefore, we will proceed immediately.”

  He unfolded a scrap of green silk embroidered with her sigil, the white dragon, the edges frayed from time.

  “Here is the banner carried by King Thormand’s army into battle in these southern lands. The original banner that waved over the fields of victory for our people.”

  He whipped it out and laid it upon the marble floor.

  “Please kneel, Your Highness.”

  She swallowed the lump of emotion lodged in her throat as he helped her to her knees. Lord Maksim was suddenly behind him, holding the silver scepter of the high counsel of the House. Apparently, he had been apprised of this plan somehow. Lord Maksim held the sacred scepter to the people of Arkadia. Automatically, she bowed her head as he recited a litany of words from the Arkadian Book of Order. It held the laws and rights of the people as well as the role of their sovereign ruler.

  She heard hardly any of it at all, trembling where she knelt, realizing she’d done it after all. Mikhail was right. She was strong. Her voice was heard. And they believed in her. The responsibility of her new role was overwhelming and wonderful all at the same time. Destiny smiled upon her. She snapped back to what was happening when she felt the scepter touch her right shoulder.

  “Do you promise to uphold the Arkadian Book of Order, to rule by law, justice, and mercy in all your judgments?”

  “I solemnly promise.”

  He touched her left shoulder with the scepter. “And will you uphold your oath of loyalty to the people of Arkadia, vowing upon your heart and soul?”

  “I will.”

  He touched her right shoulder again.

  “By the heavens above, under this sacred roof, and before the eyes of the House of Arkadia, I pronounce you Vilhelmina Dragomir, only child of King Holland, the sovereign Queen of Arkadia.” He pounded the scepter with one heavy thwack upon the floor. “Hail, Queen Vilhelmina!”

  Once more, joyous voices arose. Lord Rathbone lifted her to her feet. Friedrich was at her side, bowing deeply.

  A rumble of marching feet could be heard coming up the outer steps. The sudden joy in the air was squelched by the rhythmic pounding of boots entering the double doors of the hall.

  “Oh, hell,” Rathbone whispered, grabbing hold of Mina’s arm.

  “Bloodguard!” Mikhail bellowed. “Front!”

  But rather than ready themselves into attack mode, the two rows simply pivoted and faced one another, leaving the space between open as if they welcomed the army, which could only be the queen or king’s army stomping closer.

  Through the archway and out of the shadowy vestibule marched three lines of black-clad men. Wait, and there was one woman on the front row. They weren’t Legionnaires. They were Bloodguard soldiers. Dmitri at the front of the line. And they just kept coming. Mina swiveled to Mikhail, who still had not once looked at her through this entire interlude.

  They marched in their single file columns till the first row halted where Mikhail and Gregoravich made up the front of the line. Mina stared in awe. There had to be at least two hundred of them within the chamber, and she couldn’t see the end of them disappearing out of the forum archway.

  That was when Mikhail stepped forw
ard to stand directly in front of her. He knelt onto one knee.

  “Queen Vilhelmina. As Captain of the Bloodguard, I hereby formally offer the services of our full force.”

  As one, the Bloodguard knelt in perfect unison. Forty of the men had pledged their fealty in Silvane Forest, but that wasn’t nearly the full force.

  She smiled down at Mikhail, “Captain, we need to talk.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled back and stood, gazing down at her. “Your Majesty.” He gestured toward them. “Will you walk with me and examine your troops?”

  She nodded. Hands clasped at his back, he led her toward the front row. They parted with a smooth movement, stepping aside, then pivoting to face inward. Dmitri winked as she passed. The female guardsman seemed familiar somehow. With a salute of their fists to their hearts, they bowed their heads in respect as she and Mikhail walked side by side, Rathbone, Friedrich, and Maksim behind them. As they exited through the archway and the vestibule then out through the open double-doors, Mina’s jaw fell open. The black-clad Bloodguard extended in a perfect quadruple line down the stone steps of the Grand Forum. Beyond the steps was a row of guardsmen on horseback, circling the forum and lengthening down the main cobblestone street of Arkadia.

  Shopkeepers poked their heads out of their shops. Women of the aristocracy on their way somewhere had stopped in their tracks, pointing and whispering. One fanned herself furiously, sending her blond ringlets swinging.

  “How many?” Mina asked, still in disbelief. Though why, she wasn’t sure. Mikhail continued to surprise her.

  “Five hundred strong, Your Majesty.”

  “Five hundred Bloodguard?” asked Friedrich at Mikhail’s side, incredulous. “Damn it, Mikhail. One guard is worth five regular soldiers. At the very least. This isn’t a secret you needed to keep from us.”

  “On the contrary, Your Grace. Information is key to winning any battle. But it was time to assemble.” He turned away from the magnificent view of his Bloodguard force, gazing down at her with a look she’d seen before. A heady mix of need, adoration, and something stronger. “We are ready to face Queen Morgrid, Your Majesty.”

  The tolling of bells from a distant tower drew all eyes toward the hills. It echoed into the square in a distinct repetition of gongs. Two short, one long. Mina turned to Lord Rathbone.

  “How could the town know of the coronation?” she asked.

  He stepped forward. “That’s not the toll for coronation.” His brow pinched into a frown.

  They all followed his gaze. Beyond the hills to the north, the clouds coalesced into a dark, heavy mass, swirling violently.

  “A snowstorm is coming.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mikhail stood inside his tent, the map of the north spread across the table. Friedrich and Grant leaned over it with him. The duke wore a grim expression of both determination and of fear in equal measure. No one needed to say that everyone’s thoughts weighed heavily on finding Izzy safely. But none more than Friedrich.

  Mikhail had successfully avoided private conversation with Mina since the coronation. He was in charge of organizing the full force of the Bloodguard for the journey to Izeling, all five hundred of them, so he kept busy. Lord Rathbone stayed behind to assemble the Arkadian army, including its elite force of equestrians. Now that word would spread of Mina’s coronation, Queen Morgrid and King Dominik would be acting swiftly. Mikhail had to push his forces to move at once in order to assemble what was left of the Black Lily army for the march north. The great battle was near.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to her alone. It was that he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know he’d feel this way after his goal had been achieved, after she’d faced off the House of Arkadia and demanded they’d crown her. And then they did. He didn’t know he could love her more.

  Damn it to hell.

  Yes. He loved her. God, save him. He loved her with every fiber of his being. She’d won, after all. He could no more allow her to take another man to her bed or to her side than he could cut out his own heart. They’d be one and the same, really. And so he was trying to find a way to tell her this without sounding like an utter fool. How did a man confess his love? It was done every day all over the world, and he couldn’t find the words. What if she didn’t return his love? Yes. Captain of the Bloodguard, slayer of rogues, leader of mercenaries, hardened, battle-ready warrior was afraid…of love.

  “Something funny, Captain?” asked Grant.

  “No.” He cleared his throat and pointed down at the map. “There’s only one way in or out of Dragon’s Eye. That’s where their forces will be. Though we don’t know whether he’ll be holding Izzy there or in Izeling Tower.”

  “This plain here will be ideal for battle,” said Friedrich. “The mountains of Belaya Noch won’t allow for any covert movement.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Grant. “The king’s intention was to hide his fort from the rest of the world. While doing so, he effectively cut himself off from escape.”

  Friedrich stared down, arms crossed. “That’s because he never intended to be caught there.”

  “Which is exactly why it’s the best place of attack,” added Mikhail. “A separate force can sweep the castle at the same time and discover if Izzy is being held there.”

  “I’ll be with that troop,” said Friedrich, his expression grim.

  “Of course.”

  They’d all suspected that Izzy was taken for some special purpose none of them could quite predict, but it was more certain that she’d be kept close and not away at the fortress.

  The tent flap popped open and Katya stepped in. He’d not seen her in nearly a year as she’d been working in the west of Pyros and reporting what she could about the queen’s movements within King Agnar’s regime. Much to Mikhail’s dislike, as the only female of the Bloodguard—especially wearing the close-fitting black leather garb and gear of a soldier, her dagger harness crossing her chest—she drew the eye. Especially Grant’s, it appeared.

  “Captain.” She stopped in front of Mikhail with a tight nod. Pulling back her hood and shaking some of the snow piled on her cloak, her dark rope of a plait fell forward over her shoulder.

  Grant crossed his arms and grinned. “Captain, if I’d known you were letting girls in the Bloodguard, I’d be asking to join.”

  She tensed and swiveled her head in his direction. “And what makes you think we’d ask you to join—human?”

  He put his palm over his heart. “Ouch.”

  “Gentlemen,” Mikhail interrupted, trying to hide his grin. “This is Katya Romanov. My sister.”

  Grant started, shrugging apologetically to Mikhail. Friedrich chuckled with his gaze to the ground.

  “Katya, this is His Grace, Friedrich Volya and his brother, Grant.”

  She gave them both a stiff nod of greeting.

  “Lady Katya,” said Friedrich, giving her the title she deserved as a nobleman’s daughter.

  “Just Katya, please.”

  Grant winked. “Charmed.”

  Katya narrowed her gaze then pivoted to Mikhail. “Barracks tents are complete. As well as for the horses. This blizzard was unexpected.”

  “Indeed.” Mikhail was pleased Katya had returned from Pyros with over a hundred horses as promised. They’d need a strong cavalry to lead the advance. With the troops Lord Rathbone was assembling, they’d have a mighty force. “We’ll give the horses a night’s rest, then push on.”

  “Yes, Captain. Any other orders?”

  “I want to be sure we have a secure perimeter. Check with Dmitri about patrol duty.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Mikhail,” she complained, then remembered herself. “I mean, Captain. He’ll give me the worst shift in the most difficult position.”

  “He wants to challenge you.”

  “You mean kill me.”

  “Mother would kill him if he did.”

  She huffed out a sigh. “If only I were so lucky.” Then she turned for the door and exi
ted with a snap of the tent opening, a gust of frigid air sweeping in.

  Friedrich turned to Grant. “You may have been charmed by her, but I don’t believe the feeling is mutual, brother.”

  “Oh, give her time. Wait till she sees me in action with a blade.”

  Mikhail chuckled. “Wait till you see her in action with a blade.”

  “She’s good?” he asked.

  “Let me put it this way. Gavril is by far the finest assassin with a blade in my entire Guard. Except for her.” Gavril’s skill with the blade had become legendary around the Black Lily camp. “She always bests him. She’d best you as well.”

  “Heaven help me.” He clutched at his heart. “I think I’m in love.”

  Friedrich and Mikhail laughed, when the tent flap opened again and Dmitri stepped in, shaking the snow off and stepping up to the low-burning fire on stones in the corner. Each of these wartime tents was made with a small, round ventilation flap that opened outward in the corner. The fires set in a dugout hearth and kept burning low to keep the temperature comfortable and even.

  “Colder than a witch’s tit out there.” He rubbed his hands together over the fire. “I’ll freeze my stones off if I don’t take a break.”

  Vampires could regulate their own body heat but extreme cold and drastic changes in temperature shocked their systems just as they would a human’s.

  “Did you see Katya?”

  Dmitri looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Aye.”

  “Don’t start a row with her. I need everyone level-headed.”

  “Who’s starting anything? I just gave her a patrol assignment. Like she asked.”

  “Where?”

  He waved a hand. “Over on the north peak.”

  “Where the wind is blowing hardest.”

  He turned, warming his back with a boyish shrug. “She wants to be treated like one of the men. Well, that’s what I’m doing.”

  Mikhail sighed, pulling on his leather gloves. Sibling rivalry wasn’t what he needed on his mind right now. “I’ll make the rounds for a while. Did someone take your place on duty?”