Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1)

by Melissa Ragland

  “Could do with a few lanterns,” I observed dryly.

  He ignored my prickly retort and tilted his head back to observe the star-lit ceiling above our heads. “This place was built for my great-grandmother by her husband.”

  “Fascinating,” I drawled, not bothering to soften my irritation into something more polite.

  “I’ve offended you.”

  “I don’t like being tricked.”

  “You are welcome to leave anytime you like,” he pointed out, one hand gesturing gracefully toward the distant doorway where Natalia now stood sentry.

  As much as I resented the ruse, to storm off indignantly would only make me look childish and short-sighted, and I was too intrigued by this heir of House Van Dryn to squander such an opportunity.

  “I accepted your invitation in good faith,” I said pointedly instead.

  Contrition flickered across his face, gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I merely wanted a moment alone. My family can be…intrusive.”

  I huffed a laugh in commiseration at that, which earned me a quirk of his elegant mouth. The feel of those lips on my skin flashed through my mind and I had a sudden urge to discover how they tasted.

  Focus.

  “You put me at risk, bringing me here,” I scolded, voice low.

  “No one will know.”

  “My father thinks you mean to compromise me. To force an alliance.”

  It was his turn to laugh, a husky, soft sound that shuddered down my core like a caress. “And what do you think?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” His boots barely made a sound as he started toward me. I tensed. At a distance, I could ignore those full lips, those sultry eyes, and keep my composure in hand. Any closer…

  Recover, damn it.

  “Go on, then,” I said, grasping at the nearest distraction to hurl into the dwindling space between us. “Tell me about this place. Your great-grandfather built all this just for a woman?”

  He could have pressed his advantage. A deaf man could have heard the strained edge in my tone. I was slipping, and I knew he could see it. But instead of moving in for the kill, he halted several steps away, watching me with a curious look on his perfectly-composed face. Aubrey’s words from the previous night echoed inside my head.

  He likes to play with his food.

  “Not just any woman. My great-grandmother was a renowned captain who spent many years at sea.”

  I did my best to stifle my surprise, but his slight twitch of a smile told me I’d not done a very good job of it.

  “When she finally gave up her command to raise her children, she grew melancholy. The sea was her first and truest love. In the summers, she could be content at our family’s hold beside the shore in Daria, but in the winters….” He shook his head. “Litheria is far from the coast. She haunted this house like a specter, spending hours outside in the courtyard staring up at the sky. No one could dissuade her, despite the cold.”

  He had a sailor’s gift for storytelling and I found my guard easing as he spun the tale. Every word threaded through my bones, stealing the sharpness from my carefully-honed edges. He didn’t need to come closer, I realized. That tongue alone could ruin me.

  “One year, she caught a terrible chill and nearly died. Her husband, who loved her the way she loved the sea, could not bear the thought of losing her, so he had this place built,” Adrian gestured around him, “so she could gaze at the stars to her heart’s content.” He looked up at the vast, ornate ceiling. “I’m told it nearly bankrupted us.”

  I followed his gaze, all my earlier indignation dissolved on the silken tide of his voice. “I don’t understand, why the night sky?”

  “It’s our map,” he replied simply, pointing to the intricate patterns framing the glass panes. “Every star cluster is a landmark, with the Aduline Star as our constant. On the open sea, we have no other way to navigate at night.”

  I had nothing to say to that, being wholly uneducated in such things, so I resigned myself to an appreciative silence and examined the impressive structure overhead.

  “Why did you come tonight? To dinner, I mean.” His voice took on an unfamiliar, uncalculated tone, pulling my eyes back to his, their blue-gray depths unschooled and a bit uncertain. It set me off-balance. Clever.

  The play of honesty is best met with the same, though it’s a difficult and dangerous game. Far too easy to let slip something you didn’t intend, but I was never one to back away from a challenge.

  “Curiosity,” I admitted, holding tight to what small semblance of control remained to me. “Your reputation precedes you. I suppose I wanted to judge for myself.”

  Something hardened in his demeanor, but that placid smile remained intact. “And?”

  I quirked my brow. “We’ve barely met.”

  He took a few more steps my way, erasing what protection that remaining distance had offered me. “Would you like to?”

  He was close enough to touch, a half-step too close for propriety. The faint scent of his cologne filled my head with fog.

  “Like to what?” I asked, barely keeping the tremor from my voice.

  “Get to know me,” he murmured, every word a thread of silk, the breath it took to utter them whispering across my skin.

  My panicked, racing heart demanded retreat, but I dared not show any weakness. Instead, I held my ground and his gaze, barely maintaining my skeptical mien.

  “Is that not what we’re doing now?”

  His hand brushed my bare forearm. “Would you or not?”

  My skin ignited at his touch, all attempts at composure slipping as my blood pounded in my ears. Maybe it was simply the impossible challenge of him, the promise of a distraction great enough to take my mind off my wounded heart. Or maybe it was that he seemed so utterly opposite of everything James was: serious and self-assured, sharp-eyed and mature. There was nothing boyish or playful about him. If James was a sunny afternoon, Adrian was a gathering storm on the sea, beautiful and thrilling and dangerous.

  I wanted to lose myself in that tempest. I wanted to dash myself to ruin on those rocky shoals.

  “Yes.”

  His eyes drifted past me and I heard Natalia’s slippered footsteps approaching. “Can you get out of your manor unseen?”

  Suspicion stirred to lend me a much-needed shield. “What are you-”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” he countered, shaking his head impatiently. “Can you manage it or not?”

  Caution gave me pause and I quickly calculated the risks of his offer. Such a clandestine meeting would provide prime gossip, should we be discovered. Not only that, but I hardly knew this Adrian Van Dryn, and though his demeanor suggested a certain regard, I had learned early on to be cautious of men.

  This one, though, this one made me weak. Despite all my training, all the alarms ringing in my mind, I couldn’t help but make the blatantly foolish choice.

  “I can.”

  “Good. Do you have a man whose discretion you can trust? One of your house guard?”

  I didn’t. Even Gabe, who regarded me with the most affection of any of my father’s men, would not keep secrets from his lord for me. Nevertheless, I feared to let this chance escape me.

  “I do.”

  Natalia halted beside us, listening without comment. Adrian continued, “Then slip from your house an hour past moonrise tomorrow with your man and horses. I’ll send someone to guide you.”

  “The Greyshor?” his sister queried.

  He nodded, stormy eyes still fixed on me. “The Greyshor.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I considered my options the next morning as I worked through my drills in the back garden. Without James, I’d been doing my utmost to enjoy the cool quiet of the garden by myself, but after weeks of the same, that peaceful privacy had become far more akin to loneliness. I almost wished the dour Tuvrian would materialize to scowl at me and tel
l me how many things I was doing wrong.

  The muscles of my arm seized, feet halting abruptly as I stumbled over the solution to my problem. Without even bothering to stretch, I slammed my sword back into its sheath and went to find Shera.

  I paced in the abandoned kitchen that evening, the deep velvet of an overcast night beckoning me through the windows. Beyond, somewhere in the city, Adrian waited. I frowned down at my simple black dress for the fifth time in as many minutes. Laced up over a white cotton shift, its only redeeming quality was the cut of the bodice, nearly as flattering as the couture silk gowns to which I’d become accustomed. Still, with my hair hanging loose and not a single piece of jewelry, I looked woefully common.

  If you’re going where I think you’re going, it will only draw attention, Shera had retorted when I pressed the matter earlier. The kind you don’t want.

  She’d been fairly certain of the identity of this mysterious destination, The Greyshor, a tavern of markedly ill repute situated a stone’s throw from the docks.

  I was mulling over how my quiet friend could possibly know of such a disreputable place when the sound of footsteps approached and the kitchen door creaked open. In slipped a wide-eyed Shera, followed quickly by a less-than-pleased-looking Tuvrian. The moment he spotted me, he halted in his tracks, that careful mask tightening as he calculated the situation. My handmaiden bobbed a quick curtsy and retreated out the back door.

  “This is all a bit untoward, miss,” he muttered, watching the door swing shut behind her. “We should not be unchaperoned.”

  Raising my chin, I painted my face with the blatant arrogance I knew he expected from me. “I’ve an appointment to keep and find myself in need of an escort.”

  His face betrayed nothing. “I’m sure your father would gladly assign me to accompany you, should you ask.”

  “He will not be aware of my absence.” I let that settle in the air between us. “An acquaintance waits for me at a tavern near the docks. You will accompany me there and see me safely home before dawn.”

  Despite his efforts at neutrality, he looked scandalized. “Such a thing is dishonorable. It goes against my oath to your House.”

  “Your oath is to protect and serve House Lazerin,” I challenged. “I am the future of that bloodline.”

  “My oath is to your father,” he countered firmly.

  “I’m asking for your protection.”

  “You are asking me to betray his trust.”

  “I’m going with or without you,” I snapped, and watched his jaw tighten. “You can either come with me now, or go fetch my father. By the time you wake him, I’ll be long gone and you can explain why you let his daughter leave in the middle of the night without an escort.”

  Before he could protest further – or realize that he could just grab me and keep me from leaving at all – I turned and strode out the back door and into the night. Behind me, a brief hesitation was quickly followed by a stifled curse and the rattle of a baldric.

  Shera had already tacked one of the house mounts and was fussing with the buckles on Valor’s bridle when we slipped into the stables, pitch black but for a dim ring of light cast by a single lantern. Her face softened with relief at the sight of Quintin at my back. I took over saddling my drowsy stallion as silently as possible while she dug through a nearby heap of indistinguishable fabrics.

  “Hurry, miss, put these on,” she whispered, shoving a bundle at me – a slim belt with a knife and coin pouch.

  “Where did you-”

  “Later, miss,” she pressed impatiently.

  Once I’d secured the belt about my waist, she handed me a simple woolen cloak, a consideration she’d extended to Quintin as well. He sulked beside the dun gelding, waiting for me with a furious gleam in his eyes and a thick brown cape over his shoulders.

  “Go,” she urged, giving me a gentle shove toward the exit. “He’s waiting.”

  An icy winter gust tugged at me as we picked our way carefully out the servants’ gate, Shera latching it quietly behind us. Outside the walls, a single dark figure waited atop a long-legged black mare.

  “Alec?” I whispered when we drew close enough to see his face.

  “Miss Elivya,” Adrian’s brother greeted, offering me a bow and a charming smile. “I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.”

  His gray eyes glanced toward my escort. The Tuvrian’s broad-shouldered frame looked even more intimidating in the dark, shrouded in a thick cloak with a pair of hilts silhouetted against the night. Whatever Alec thought of him, he kept it to himself, turning that easy grin back on me.

  “Come. Adrian’s probably pacing by now.” With a gentle tug of his reins, he spun his mare around and started down the snow-dusted lane.

  As we made our slow descent through the city, I took in the sleepy asymmetry of Litheria. Street by street, elegant manors gave way to fine shopfronts, which in turn gave way to increasingly more humble market stalls with houses above. I grew nervous as the thoroughfares narrowed and the buildings around me turned to wood and daub. Dark alleys perforated the tightly-clustered structures, the walkways littered with refuse.

  It stank.

  The further we went, the more shadowy figures I spotted on the streets. Groups of men in ragged cloaks skulked in alleys. Women with too much cosmetic cooed at passersby, hiking their threadbare skirts despite the cold. I found myself increasingly grateful for Quintin’s presence.

  “Not much farther,” Alec assured, sensing my unease.

  The narrow streets abruptly opened onto a vast cobblestone wharf, massive wooden docks stretching their fingers out into the bay. The frigid breeze off the river was blessedly fresh, though the smell of refuse was replaced by the faint stench of fish. Several large, flat-bottomed barges rested in the water, and groups of fleeting figures darted and stumbled in and out of various nearby establishments. We picked our way down the wharf and back up one of the streets before Alec stopped in front of a shabby lean-to lined with straw and attended by a scrappy boy in a too-large hat. A ragged nag hung her head at her lead-line under the patchwork roof.

  Oh, no. I’m not leaving Valor here.

  The lad hopped to attention when Alec dismounted, exchanging a few words with the boy who nodded earnestly and rushed to the back of the rickety structure. Shifting a barrel, he grabbed at a few knotholes in the wood and gave a hearty tug. A large panel gave way and swung outward, revealing a gaping maw of darkness.

  “Come on,” Alec urged, leading his mount toward the passage.

  After exchanging a nervous glance with Quintin, I gathered my courage and dismounted to follow. The space that opened up before me was vast and dimly lit with a sparse spread of oil lanterns. A warehouse? Giant stacks of crates, barrels, bundles of wool and wood, and all other manner of trade goods sprawled beneath that immense wooden roof. We trailed Alec to one end, where several other fine horses had been corralled with a water trough and thick, fresh straw.

  With reluctance, I relinquished Valor to a neatly attired young man who bobbed a polite bow. I watched as he went to work unsaddling my prized stallion and kicked myself, realizing how foolish I’d been to bring him instead of one of the simple household mounts.

  “Don’t worry, miss,” Alec said, stepping up beside me. “Tommy and his boys will take excellent care of him.”

  Quintin scanned the vast space with unease, his hand resting on his dagger. Several yards away, I noticed a pair of men painting over a marker on some barrels. As I trailed after Alec, I watched them replace it with a different painted seal.

  Before I could make out the sigil, we stepped out into the night. Our destination lay back toward the wharf, though not directly on it. A grubby tavern sign creaked in the wind, a faded ship with gray sails over the equally faded name: The Greyshor.

  I took a deep breath and stepped inside, immediately hit with a cacophony of sounds and smells: cooked meat and spilled ale, salt and grease, fish and sweat. A crowd of rauc
ous men and a surprising number of women packed the establishment. A drummer and a pair of fiddlers reeled in the corner, and the room echoed with laughter. It reminded me with a pang of nights in the mess hall with the cavalry. No one seemed to notice our entrance.

  We wove our way to the far corner of the room, where a large table sat positioned near the roaring fireplace. A giant copper pot hung over the flames, a stalwart matron minding the aromatic stew within. Alec slumped into a chair beside his sister as Adrian rose from his to offer me a courteous bow and a reserved smile. Tankards crowded the table.

  “I’m glad you could join us,” he said in his silken voice, stepping aside to allow me to slide into the corner seat behind his. Quintin took up a post against the wall a few feet away, scowling around the room. Adrian eyed him and leaned in toward me. “Will he do that all night, do you think?” I couldn’t help but laugh. My reluctant guard offered me a sharp glare before resuming his vigil.

  Around the table, young Van Dryns watched me a bit too carefully. I realized, with a flush of silent relief, that they were not aware of my summer at the Laezon garrison. To them, I was simply a female heir, hardened by society, who had never rubbed elbows with common folk such as this. They expected me to falter at the unfamiliarity of it all. To expose a weakness. I stifled a grin.

  The mead was passable and the fish stew hearty. After a few rounds, the better part of our company jumped up to join the crowd in a lively jig. I leaned back in my chair and watched, glad for a moment to speak with Adrian alone.

  “I take it you come here often?” I asked him.

  “It’s the one place we can just be ourselves,” he confessed.

  “Don’t you worry about gossip?” Despite having shed their distinctive silks, the Van Dryn beauty was hard to conceal.

  “Most of these men are ours.”

  “Yours?”

  He nodded, eyes sweeping the room. “Darian barges run the river route bringing goods from the northern and southern ports into the inlands. Many of the captains are former officers of the coastal patrol fleet. Most spend a few years on the tall ships and then resign their commissions to work the river.”