As one, we all dropped into our deepest bows and curtsies. “Long live Queen Rishel!”
The remainder of the evening passed in a frenzied blur as nobles clamored for position near the dais to congratulate the couple and curry favor with their new queen. Aubrey, Leon, and I hung back with the other young heirs, leaving space for our parents to make the pronouncements on behalf of our Houses. I scanned the crowd to find my parents cloistered at the back of the room with Lord Chamberlain and a few others. Confusion and worry stirred in my chest, but I pushed them aside. A dense throng of nobles yet remained around the King and Queen, and shoving one’s way through the mob would be far from dignified. They would wait for a more opportune moment.
Nearby, the small group of Amenon’s kin lingered in similar isolation, their dull golden eyes watching the scene with marked displeasure. One woman among them appeared more disgruntled than the rest, hard eyes glittering with envy as Rishel greeted her new subjects with effortless grace.
Carefully-laid plans upended, I realized. I wonder how close she thought she’d come to that throne.
“Clarissa looks furious,” Aubrey murmured into my ear, his gaze tracing mine. “All that maneuvering for naught.”
“She wanted the crown for herself,” I mused.
“She and her father have long dreamed of purifying the bloodline.”
“I wasn’t aware anyone else was making moves for Amenon’s attention.”
“Adulines are a private lot,” my friend pointed out. “And you haven’t spent much time in the city.”
I tilted my head in reluctant agreement. Aubrey and his father maintained a nearly-permanent residence in Litheria, only visiting their estate in Cambria once or twice a year. As the King’s Poet, Augustus’ presence at Court was expected, as was the presence of the likely successor to his post. Aubrey had practically grown up in Crofter’s Castle. My family and I had been away for over a year, and though the far reach of my mother’s observations often surprised me, she had never once mentioned Lady Clarissa or her schemes in our lessons.
As the night wore on, I grew more and more tense when none of our parents made any move to venture toward the dais. Since the throng never abated, I’m not sure they would have made much progress, but it still seemed like a grievous breach of Court protocol.
“Perks of the King’s inner circle, dove,” Aubrey soothed with a smile. “The War left its mark on all our Houses. Our parents are more Amenon’s siblings than any of those gilded vultures.” He nodded toward the cluster of golden-eyed courtiers still sulking at the perimeter.
Despite my friend’s reassurances, the whole evening left me unsettled and I broached the topic with my parents on the carriage ride home.
“There was no need,” my father stated firmly. “The King will send for us when he’s ready.”
“Lazerins do not grovel for royal favor,” Mother added, staring out the window.
I recalled Greta cursing about Lazerin pride in the kitchen while stitching me up, and worried my parents had made a mistake. What if their tightly-held dignity was misconstrued as indifference, or worse, disapproval? Gossip could destroy a House as quickly as any war. My father must have noticed my unease because he leaned forward in his seat toward me.
“Through deeds and loyalty, we prove our fealty to the Crown,” he reassured gently. “Amenon and I have known one another a very long time.” His tone clearly brought the topic to a close, so I pressed no further, but couldn’t shake the ill feeling in my gut that they were underestimating the danger.
CHAPTER 15
As if to purposely make me feel foolish, an invitation from the palace arrived three days later. A small dinner party was to be held in the King’s private quarters that evening. My parents met each other’s eyes over the breakfast table, an entire conversation passing between them in a silent moment. A pang of envy resonated through my chest and I thought about James for the first time in days. I’d not seen or spoken to him since the accident, but I felt a sudden urge to seek him out. I pushed my chair back abruptly and stood, drawing my mother’s sharp gaze.
“No outings today,” she warned. “We cannot be late this evening, and I want you at your best.”
I slipped from the house and Seth pointed me toward the stables, where I found James re-shoeing one of our carriage horses. He murmured softly to the mare as he worked on one hoof with a long metal file. Leaning against a stall, I watched him a moment before making my presence known.
“I see you haven’t lost your touch.”
He cast a guarded glance over his shoulder at me before returning to his task. “My mother says we have some bastard Lazerin blood from way back. Makes it so we can understand them better than most.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I remained silent and continued to watch him work. When he finished filing, I passed him a metal shoe from a nearby bucket.
“Are we going to talk about this?”
He heaved a sigh and dropped his file to the floor, fishing in his apron for some nails. Fetching the hammer from the bucket, I held it hostage until he met my eyes. Copper curls rustled as he shook his head.
“What do you want me to say, Elivya?”
“An apology wouldn’t go amiss,” I retorted dryly.
Those guarded eyes darkened and drifted to where his blade had cut me. “It was an accident. I’m sorry.”
“And maybe tell me what made you angry enough to try and take my head off.”
His penitence vanished in an instant. “As if you need me to explain the reason.”
I grit my teeth at his biting tone. “We discussed this from the very beginning. When we left Laezon, you said-”
“I know what I said,” he snapped, hurt and fury battling in his eyes. “But it’s different, being here. Watching it happen.”
“Watching what? I’ve not had a single offer!”
He hissed a humorless laugh. “You don’t need one. You already have Aubrey wrapped around your finger.”
“It’s not like that between us. He’s just-”
“A friend?” he challenged. “I was your friend, too, remember? We ended up in the stacks same as anyone else. Though I imagine a feather bed makes for a more romantic setting than a dusty loft.”
I gaped at him, too jarred by his cruelty for my anger to take root. The lips I’d kissed a thousand times twisted into a sneer, as unfamiliar as the viciousness that poured through them.
“Don’t look so surprised. You of all people should know servants gossip. There’s some truth in every rumor. You taught me that. Not that it matters. You want some spineless fancy-boy for a husband, you go right ahead. Maybe you can train him to polish your boots for you.”
“Don’t talk about him like that,” I bristled. “If it was up to me-”
“But it’s not. And nothing I say will change what I am. What you are.” He turned his face away, holding his hand out for the hammer. “So do us both a favor and go.”
I stood there, the shock of his dismissal rooting me to the spot.
“Go, Elivya.”
Numb with hurt, I dropped the hammer into his palm and fled.
Empty eyes stared back at me in the mirror that afternoon, an unremarkable shade of green hiding a tempest of regret and guilt. The cosmetic painted on my face felt like a mask, a curtain drawn over the misery roiling within.
Stupid, selfish girl. Why did you ever kiss him? How could you let it get this far?
Shera stood behind me at the vanity, pinning my hair and stealing glances at me in the dimming afternoon light. I barely noticed the gown she’d dressed me in, some embroidered satin concoction laced so tight I could barely breathe. Maybe I’d get lucky and it would suffocate me.
“Are you alright, miss?”
Shera’s voice pulled me from my sullen thoughts, her soft face pinched with concern. I forced a feeble smile to my lips, but couldn’t bring myself to speak.
“…James?”
The corner of my mouth curled in acknowledgment. My friend returned her focus to her work, casting one last sympathetic glance at me in the mirror.
“Jealousy makes monsters of us all, miss.”
We arrived once again at the palace, though this time with no fanfare or warming braziers. I clutched my wolfskin cloak about me and followed obediently up the steps and into the castle, where a crisp-mannered doorman escorted us with alacrity to the private wing.
No chamber in Crofter’s Castle is small, but the private dining room and adjoining salons were cozy and welcoming compared to the vastness of the great hall. I trailed after my parents into the warm intimacy of that space and saw none of the faces within it.
Aubrey emerged from the small crowd to greet me, his smile immediately faltering at the sight of my empty stare. I may have looked the picture of decorum to anyone else, but he could read me like an open book. His gentle hand slipped into mine, settling my fingers on his arm and steering me off to a quiet corner. There, he pulled the whole of it from me while I tried my best to keep my features neutral, lest any prying eyes be watching.
“I’m sorry, dove,” he murmured when I’d finished my hollow confession. “He is cruel to expect what he knows you cannot give.”
I shook my head, staring into my wine glass. “I’m the cruel one. I never should have started it in the first place. We were friends for so long. I ruined everything.”
“He agreed it was over the day you left Laezon.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier.”
“…What can I do?”
I shrugged and forced myself to meet his amber eyes. “Distract me? Help me get through tonight?”
“Done.” He straightened and fetched up alongside me, scanning the sprawl of courtiers. “How about some recitation? Tell me who you know.”
I swept my gaze over the crowd. “Not many. House Oristei, of course,” I corrected, spotting Lord Reyus and his wife engaged in some solemn exchange with my parents. I managed to identify a few others, but most of the guests were strangers to me.
“What would you do without me?” Aubrey sighed, his playful lilt an attempt to brighten my spirits.
“Right now? Likely crawl into a hole and die.”
“Oh, please. Death is boring.”
It made me laugh, despite myself, earning a sideways smile from my friend, his amber eyes glittering.
“The tall fellow in the drab doublet is Lord Ignatus Caerus, the Royal Physician, and beside him is his wife Lynn. Their son Mateo is there,” Aubrey gestured to a group of young gentlemen across the room. Mateo fidgeted nervously, looking very young under his unruly curls. “He’s just come of age for Court this past autumn, and I’m sure he’d rather be anywhere but here.”
“I can sympathize.”
“Shush. Pay attention.” Next he pointed out a pair of young courtiers just a few years our elder, lithe figures weaving through the crowd. “The twins of House Ardontus: Ila and Ero. Ero will inherit, of course, but that doesn’t keep his sister from being his constant competition.” He gestured to an elegant couple currently locked in conversation with my mother. “Their parents, Lord Miko and Lady Cheza.”
My education continued for several more minutes, my grief over James slowly numbing in the face of my responsibilities to my House. As Aubrey predicted, I lost myself in the mechanical routine of rote memorization, burying my sorrow in the necessity of my station.
Just when I felt I’d gotten my bearings, the door abruptly opened and a small cluster of sultry figures glided into the room, their silk doublets and gowns shimmering the deepest blue I’d ever seen. Long hair, darker even than my own, fell in a straight cascade down the women’s backs, unpinned and undecorated, sleek in the light. The men kept theirs nearly as long but caught back in a variety of ways. What captured my attention most, however, was their eyes: gray, with only the slightest hints of blue or green.
“Van Dryns,” Aubrey muttered.
The retinue fractured into smaller clusters and dispersed throughout the room, the eldest couple making their way to the far side to greet the other high lords in attendance, our parents included.
“Lord Yuri and Lady Tasha,” my friend supplied, a distinctly sour note in his tone. “And, of course, their horde of various kin.”
I knew who they were, of course, by name if not by sight. Even if it hadn’t been the sole purpose of my existence to memorize every bloodline of the Greater and Lesser Houses, the Van Dryn Trading Enterprise is known half the world over. From Lloegr to Rume, their merchant ships control the majority of overseas trade, from silks and spices to lamp oil and perfumes. I’d seen a few of them at other Court events, but only from a distance and never in such great numbers.
I was running through a mental list of their holdings in an attempt to maintain my distraction when a horribly familiar laugh cut through the din.
“Oh, gods,” I hissed, spotting a perfectly-curated cascade of honey hair in the crowd. “What is she doing here?”
Aubrey followed my gaze to land on Patricia, her apricot gown glaring amidst a sea of dark blue silk. “Her mother is Queen Rishel’s second cousin. An invitation of necessity, if I had to guess.”
At least neither of her usual venomous cohorts seemed to be in attendance. Instead, she fawned over a captive cluster of Van Dryns, short bursts of her delicate laughter carrying across the room to grate on my nerves. She was trying harder than usual to be charming. Must be someone there who caught her interest. When the crowd shifted and a few dark-haired courtiers found excuses to peel away, I spotted the reason behind her efforts.
He had his mother’s elegant mouth and his father’s broad shoulders, a tidy plait of blue-black hair draped down the back of his doublet. Like many of his House, his age was elusive, but I placed him somewhere in his late twenties. Patricia kept herself positioned close at his side, doing her best to catch his gaze with her most sultry bedroom eyes.
Something dark and hateful stirred unexpectedly in my chest. I prodded at it as I watched them, noting the way it flared when she batted her lashes or swept aside her hair in a less-than-subtle attempt to show off her generous figure. The stiffness in his posture told me just how little he wanted her attentions, but the dark-haired courtier continued to humor her with placid smiles and polite conversation.
It made my stomach turn.
I was angry, I realized. At James. At myself. At the world that seemed to always tell me ‘no’ while allowing a viper like Patricia to do as she pleased and trap yet another poor bastard beneath the unyielding yoke of propriety. No amount of mindless recitation could extinguish that anger. It simmered somewhere deep within me, a driving force that made me yearn to destroy. To claim. To conquer.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Aubrey warned, shooting me a blistering glare. “Don’t even think about it, Liv.”
“Who is he?” I demanded.
He didn’t so much utter the name as chew it up and spit it into the air between us. “Adrian Van Dryn.”
Of course he is.
“Still unmarried?” Patricia wasn’t known for being terribly particular on that account.
“He likes to play with his food.”
I snorted into my wine glass. “Quite the prize. No wonder she’s putting forth such an effort.”
“He’s a scoundrel and a cad. They were made for each other.”
Whatever grudge my friend held against the heir of House Van Dryn would have to wait. I’d already settled into the focused calm of the hunt, drawing on the wolf and the winter cold. She wanted him. Badly. So I would take him from her. Not to keep, of course, just to distract long enough for her to show her true colors, to ruin her chances with him herself.
Petty. Yes, I know.
“He moves like a soldier,” I remarked, watching him lead her through the crowd.
“A sailor,” Aubrey corrected, growing more irritable by the minute. “You know, you could find far better e
ntertainment than the bilge rats of Daria. How about a nice King’s Guard to take your mind off things? I hear they’re mostly unattached.”
“No.”
Across the room, Patricia brushed some nonexistent dust from Adrian’s doublet, an intimate gesture done solely for the benefit of any competitor that might be watching. I had a sudden and unsettling urge to break her pretty fingers.
“No,” I repeated, cold certainty steeling my resolve. “No, I want him.”
Aubrey blew out his breath in a long, low sigh, knowing better than to try and dissuade me in such a state. Without another word, he drained his half-full glass and set it down firmly on a nearby side table.
“I suppose you’ll be needing my assistance in some form or another.”
I was already on the move. “Fifteen seconds. Twenty, at most.”
Aubrey matched me step for step as we rounded the perimeter of the room, wandering up to the unwitting couple from behind. As we neared, I plucked a second full glass from a passing tray and watched my friend set to his task with purpose.
“There you are!” he gushed, striding ahead and taking Patricia’s arm like they were old friends. “I’ve heard the most absurd rumor about your sister.”
She was too startled to protest, her grip loosening on her captive’s elbow. Adrian seized the opportunity to disentangle himself, turning on his heel to flee while Aubrey pulled her a few discreet steps away. He made it two paces before spotting me in his path, his rolling gait halting abruptly. Storm-gray eyes tinged with blue drifted over me, though more to take my measure than to leer.
I lifted the full glass and quirked my brow in wordless offering. His elegant mouth twisted into a smirk, a few calculated steps bringing him closer.
“Are you here to rescue me?” he mused, taking the wine from my hand.
“Afraid not, sailor,” I sighed, angling my head a coy fraction and doing my best to sound bored. “That leviathan, you’ll have to slay yourself.”
His eyes glinted in amusement. “Shame.”
Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Page 16
