God of Loyalty

by J A Armitage

  “I haven’t experimented with using them as cut flowers. Sir,” I hastily added. “I don’t know how well they’d hold up. I trust the florists will be able to conceal the pots or paint them to match the wedding decorations.”

  He leaned forward and touched one of the petals. His finger was delicate, and I felt a moment of surprise that he was capable of such gentleness.

  But, of course, he was. It was all I’d seen when he’d first arrived.

  Even if his persona at the beginning had all been an act, I hoped he’d revert to it soon, if only for Lilian’s sake.

  “They are real,” he said. “I suppose you’ve heard. The Festival judges are almost ready to release their statement. I signed it this morning.”

  I scrutinized his face for hints of what he meant, and his smile broadened. I would have mistaken him for a friend if I’d been watching this moment from the outside.

  “I was happy to add my approval to the statement,” he said. “After all, it was very clear, after closer scrutiny, that the flower is real, and any similarity to other breeds was ruled coincidental.”

  I stiffened. “And the accusations of bribery?”

  “Flatly denied, with no evidence to support them,” he said. “The gossips who started that rumor must have been mistaken.”

  I ground my teeth and fought to keep my face neutral.

  “That’s good news, sir,” I said.

  “It should help you find a new position quite easily.”

  He stepped toward me. It was a difference of an inch, but it was enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to step away.

  I couldn’t let him win, even in this little way.

  “You’re still getting fired,” he said, voice still pleasant. “In fact, consider this your pre-emptive notice. In two days, Lilian and I will be married. We’ll leave on our honeymoon, and you’ll be gone by the time we get back. We won’t hear from you again.”

  I stood up straighter. My fingers were so tight on my spade handle, it was a wonder they still had any feeling.

  “If I accept a job at the Horticulture Offices?”

  “You’ll find a way to be absent from meetings with the royal family,” he said. “I suppose we’ll end up at social functions together now and then, should you end up in yet another high position you haven’t really earned. If that happens, I trust that you’ll find a way to keep your distance.”

  Anger boiled under my skin, heating my blood and sending a flush to my face.

  “Keep my distance from you, sir?” I said. “Or your wife?”

  He didn’t twitch. He didn’t flinch. If anything, his chilling, friendly calm only deepened.

  “After the wedding, you will never speak to Lilian again,” he said. “If you do, your reputation will be the least of your worries.”

  He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, then he glanced over the lilies with that same smile still playing over his lips.

  “The lilies will be a beautiful addition to the ceremony,” he said. “Thank you for creating them.”

  He cast his eye across the flowers, and one corner of his mouth rose.

  “In fact, it seems you’re about finished here,” he said. “There’s no need for you to have to lug these all the way up to the palace. I’ll deliver them for you.”

  “They’re very fragile. I’d rather--”

  “I insist.” His smile widened, showing his teeth in a snarl like a wolf’s. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Panic rose up in my stomach, churning and heaving like I’d eaten something rotten.

  “There are too many flowers for one person to carry,” I blurted.

  “Good thing you have so many apprentices,” he said.

  “I can carry--”

  “No,” he said. “You can’t. Wait here while I fetch help.”

  He stopped at the garden door and looked back to where I stood, frozen, with my heart beating like a drum in my ears.

  “You and those lilies had better be here when I get back,” he said, voice as warm as I’d ever heard it. “Or else you’ll come to know the true meaning of the word regret. Do we understand each other?”

  I swallowed. “Yes,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed, and I straightened my shoulders and gave him a bow that felt as if it would crack me in two.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  17th April

  I was peering over Cypress’s shoulder in our largest greenhouse the next morning when the door opened. I glanced up, and my heart skipped a beat.

  Lilian was there, wearing a simple riding tunic and fitted trousers, with her golden hair pulled back with a green ribbon. She slipped inside the greenhouse, bringing the sunshine with her.

  I put a finger to my lips, warning her not to disturb the magician’s concentration, and she came to stand beside me in silence. A light flared within the bell jar, and Cypress let out a deep breath and relaxed.

  “What are you doing?” she said, eyes alight with interest.

  I couldn’t answer. Seeing her here, after I’d lost the opportunity to bring her one of my lilies yesterday, was enough to make my heart feel like it had grown three sizes and was threatening to burst from my chest.

  She listened to Cypress explain the process with interest. I knew I should be listening. I’d come to the greenhouse this morning specifically to learn what I could of his magic, partly to improve my own fledgling abilities and partly to take my mind off how quickly tomorrow’s wedding was approaching. But I couldn’t focus on anything he said, not with the love of my life standing so close to me with the scent of magnolia rising from her hair. Her forehead glistened with a slight sheen of sweat, a familiar sight that told me she’d been working her horse hard this morning.

  “So this doesn’t stop the blight?” she said after Cypress had finished. She stood on tiptoes to see better and rested her hand on my shoulder for balance. My whole body tingled at her touch. “But it increases yield?”

  “Exactly, Your Highness.”

  She graced him with one of her dazzling smiles. “That’s so clever! I love that you’re attacking this problem from multiple angles. The glass was a wonderful breakthrough, but I’ve been concerned about yield.”

  “We hope this will help,” Cypress said. “We’re still testing.”

  “Let me know if you need anything from the palace,” Lilian said. “I’d like to help with this as much as I can.”

  Cypress smiled at her, clearly charmed by her interest. “Perhaps we can discuss some ideas after your wedding, Your Highness,” he said.

  My heart twisted.

  But that was selfish. I should be glad that I was leaving this effort in the capable hands of my gardeners and the magicians, and glad that the princess of the realm felt such a deep concern for their work. I should be grateful. I should be able to think beyond the panic and grief that clutched at me with icy fingers.

  Lilian beamed up at me, and a little of the ice melted.

  “I’d love that,” she said, her eyes still fixed on me. “For now, though, I was wondering if I could have a moment, Mr. Gilding?”

  My insides went to war, torn between the promise of conversation with her and the agony of having her refer to me so formally.

  I bowed, keeping up the pretense. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  She led me from the greenhouse, and it wasn’t until we were safely ensconced behind a potting shed that she spun around and took my hand.

  “He’s gone,” she said.

  I knew who she meant without asking, but it took my mind a second to catch up with her words.

  “Gone?” Hope rose up in me, champagne bubbles that fizzed through my veins and set my heart to racing. “What do you mean?”

  “Not for good,” she said quickly. She set a hand on my arm, quelling my sudden irrational optimism. “He’ll be back late tonight. But today--we have today.”

  Our gazes met, and I didn’t need her to explain more.
I pulled her close and kissed her forehead--gently, chastely, with a restraint I didn’t really feel.

  “What about the guards?”

  “My ladies-in-waiting distracted them.” Her eyes twinkled. “One of them lit a compost pile on fire at the far end of the grounds, and the others are busy making trouble disguised as wedding preparation. Hedley’s got a few of them busy investigating a couple of shattered bell jars, too. He’s blaming them on what I believe he’s calling ‘young hoodlums’ and making a very un-Hedley-like fuss.”

  I stared down at her. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “Only since this morning,” she said. “When Garritt told me he had to leave town on some secret business or other.” She wrinkled her nose. “Apparently, it was men’s work, and I didn’t need to bother my head about it.” The disgust on her face didn’t last long; it was replaced in a moment with the tell-tale gleam of mischief. “My ladies all came together rather splendidly. Which means we have a day together. One day.”

  “And then I have to leave.”

  She hardened her jaw. “Only for a time. I’ll get you back somehow. I’m not giving up.”

  “You’ve got bigger things to worry about.” I rubbed her back lightly as I spoke. Her tunic was perfectly tailored, the gentle contours of her shoulder blades giving way to the small of her back under the fine green wool. I could have spent forever exploring those curves. “You’ve got a whole kingdom in trouble.”

  “And how am I supposed to face that without you?” she said. “You’re my best friend. We can’t be together, not as we’d like. But we can be friends.”

  I brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to be your friend, Lils.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She smiled up at me, but not before I saw the flash of pain in her eyes. I could have kicked myself; I wasn’t the only one about to face enormous loss. I should be taking the burden from her, not making it heavier.

  I stood up straighter and forced a smile. “You’re right,” I said. “You know what? We are friends. Always will be. So let’s take today and make some memories.”

  “You read my mind.” She put her hands on her hips and grinned up at me. “Race you to the stables.”

  Twenty minutes later, we were flying across the barren palace grounds. Lilian’s horse soared over a line of decayed, cut-down lilac bushes, and mine carefully skirted around them. Lilian brought her mount to a stop and looked over at me, laughing.

  “What, too high for you?”

  I shook my head. “I thought you already went riding once this morning. Your poor horse.”

  “That was just to look busy while Garritt was leaving,” she said. “This is a different horse. And this round is just for fun.”

  I was nowhere near as comfortable in the saddle as Lilian, but I would have spent all day trotting alongside her if it meant I got to enjoy her expression of total focus and joy every time her horse soared over some obstacle. She leaned forward and stroked her mount’s neck, and it leaned into the affection.

  There was very little cover in the now-empty gardens. That made the grounds wonderful for riding--Lilian never would have galloped her horse over the lawns and flowerbeds when they’d been in their full glory--but terrible for hiding. I saw a figure in the distance and tensed, waiting to be caught with the princess by one of the duke’s guards or informants.

  The figure waved, though, and I realized it was Hedley. Lilian nodded at me, and we trotted toward him. He shielded his eyes from the sun and looked up at us as we came to a stop.

  “You might want to clear out of this area.” His voice was serious, but the corners of his eyes creased in a hidden smile. “The guards are about to be alerted to another broken bell jar. There might be theft afoot.”

  Lilian laughed, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “You’re not actually destroying jars, are you?” I asked. “We need those to grow food.”

  “They are bell jars,” he said, eyes still twinkling. “But they are not enchanted. Cypress has agreed to swear up and down that they have magic residue, though.”

  I tilted my head. “Cypress is in on this, too?”

  “You have more friends than you think, Deon,” he said. “Besides, every inhabitant of this kingdom would do anything for the princess.”

  “You’re going to make me blush.” Lilian held out a hand, and Hedley took it. She squeezed, giving him one of those grateful smiles that always made my stomach do backflips.

  Hedley patted her hand. “You’d best make yourselves scarce. Your picnic has already been delivered.”

  I raised an eyebrow, but it was clear neither of them was going to let me in on the plan. And that was just fine. I was ready to follow Lilian anywhere.

  Still, some idle part of me wondered how Hedley could be so happy. A few stolen hours or not, I was still about to lose her, and the kingdom was about to fall under the clutches of the unfortunately wealthy Duke of Thornton. He dreaded that moment almost as much as I did, but his face held no concern.

  And perhaps that was for the best. I had one day with Lilian. I shouldn’t waste it fearing for tomorrow.

  Lilian gave Hedley one last dazzling smile and galloped off toward the edge of the grounds. I clicked my tongue at my horse, and it followed, turning the gray earth to a blur underfoot.

  This edge of the palace grounds was bordered by a high, stone wall that separated the landscaped grounds from the wild forest beyond. Some king many generations ago had signed a decree marking this area as protected hunting land, but King Alder didn’t venture here often. Hunters from Tulis came here sometimes, and it was rumored that a few solitary witches lived and practiced their earthy craft deep within the protection of the trees, but the area was large enough that it was easy to get lost and rare to run into anyone else.

  It was clear the moment we passed out of a small gate in the wall that this was why Lilian had chosen it. She glanced over her shoulder at me, her blue eyes darker under the dappled shade of the gray branches overhead. I urged my horse forward.

  I followed Lilian down a meandering deer trail that wound between undergrowth and heavy, ancient trees. The forest was strangely beautiful, even stricken by the blight. The scent of decay was thick here, and the carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles seemed to squish under our horses’ feet. But the trees around us hadn’t given in to the blight, not completely. Most of their leaves were gray, but the ancient trunks seemed to be putting up a good fight. The bark of the oldest trees was still rich brown, and some of them persisted in putting out tiny green buds as if to spite the disease all around. Those tender leaves would die soon enough, but their resistance warmed me.

  The trees would keep fighting. We would, too.

  We rode in silence. Birds called overhead, their songs more sparse than they had once been but still there. Lilian seemed to know exactly where she was going, and after a while, I caught the sound of a brook bubbling alongside us. The thick forest opened a little to reveal a beautiful little pond, ringed with pale purple mushrooms that had somehow retained their color. A picnic basket sat atop a flat boulder, holding down a picnic blanket the same warm green of healthy moss.

  We stopped our horses, and Lilian looked over at me.

  “What do you think?”

  I blinked, waiting for the purple of the mushrooms to fade. The color stayed vibrant. “They’re alive.”

  “Interesting, isn’t it? I had to show you.”

  She slid from her horse and tethered it to a tree. I did the same, and the horses began nosing through the underbrush, looking for anything still alive that they could eat.

  I bent to examine the fungi. They had the same ruffled appearance of oyster mushrooms, interspersed with tiny purple toadstool-like caps that held a faint crystalline shimmer.

  “These are amethyst mushrooms, aren’t they?” I knelt to get a closer look. My knees sank into the soft ground, staining my trousers with mud and bits of blighted moss. “I’d hea
rd they grow here, but I’ve never seen them before.”

  “One of my ladies found them a few days ago.” Lilian crouched next to me.

  I glanced up at her. “Do your ladies often wander deep into the woods?”

  She bit her lip. “A gentleman might have been involved.”

  I grinned. “Scandalous.”

  “But aren’t they incredible? The blight hasn’t touched them. I thought you might be able to learn something from them that could help your efforts. Do you think we could, I don’t know, combine them with other mushrooms? Or grow them as a food source? Are they edible? I don’t even know. They’re so rare.”

  “They’re rare but magical.” I glanced over at her. “Can I try something?”

  Her gaze sharpened with curiosity. “Of course.”

  “I’ve been practicing my magic,” I said in a low voice. Even though we were alone, it still felt like something I should keep quiet. These abilities I had were special; I didn’t want anyone else to find out about them before I was ready.

  Lilian’s eyes widened in interest. She leapt up and grabbed the picnic blanket, then nodded at me to move. She folded it in half and set it down next to the mushrooms, giving us a comfortable surface to sit on.

  I glanced at my muddy knees. “I probably should have thought of that, huh?”

  She shrugged. “I like you covered in mud,” she said. “You always seem your happiest when you’re a complete mess.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Thanks a lot.”

  She giggled and sat down, then patted the blanket next to her.

  I sat cross-legged. The mushrooms shimmered, their crystalline skin inviting me in for a closer look.

  I leaned in toward the fungi, sensing in the air for any hint of magic that might invite me deeper.

  “Cross your fingers,” I said. “Let’s see what we can learn.”

  Lilian sat in still silence while I stretched my attention into the mushrooms. The dappled sunshine frolicked across their thin, sparkling skins, and the magic that radiated from them like a reflection was so strong I found it in an instant.