Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1)

by Melissa Ragland

  He bowed smartly to her. “No, my lady. Just me this evening. I hope that does not disappoint.” Echoing his bow first to my father and then to me, he added, “I considered myself safe enough at Lazerin House. I hear you employ some of the finest armsmen in the city.” He met my gaze out the corner of his eye with a sly smirk.

  My father grunted in a noncommittal reply. I expected my mother had instructed him to play up his lingering displeasure throughout the evening. We mingled in the main hall for a short while, Aubrey and Augustus making their polite greetings. I’m not sure anyone but myself or Leon would have caught the sharp edge in Aubrey’s tone or the defensive set of his shoulders. Dinner was called in short order and we arranged ourselves at the table.

  “I understand you spend much of your time at sea,” my mother spurred the conversation along as the first course was served.

  Adrian nodded politely. “Yes, my lady-”

  She waved him off. “Nefira, please.”

  He began again. “Nefira. Yes. I spend nearly two-thirds of the year at sea.”

  “And the remaining months?”

  “The winters are particularly treacherous on the coastal waters. Ice floes can take a ship down as fast as any shoals. They are more difficult to spot, particularly at night, and can’t be charted.”

  “So the White Sea remains unprotected in the winters?” she pressed, sipping her wine innocently.

  He smiled, but there was something predatory and proud in his eyes. “In the winter, we sail a smaller fleet of ships built specifically for the winter waters.”

  “And you command those as well?”

  “The winter fleet has its own captains and its own crews. The ships are slower, larger, and must be handled very differently from the agile frigates we sail in the summer.”

  “I see.”

  She finally relented, for which I was grateful, and Augustus chimed in with some mundane bits of gossip. The King and Queen were said to be glowing in each other’s presence, and a grand gala was being planned for the spring equinox.

  “Do you think you’ll stay for the festivities, Adrian?” my mentor asked over a mouthful of roast quail.

  Stormy eyes flicked toward me for a brief moment. “That will depend on the weather, I imagine.” He turned to my father. “And you, my lord? Do you intend to be gone from the city before then?”

  My father considered him with that sharp evergreen gaze. “I’m afraid my duties do not allow me to linger for the sake of frivolity.” I winced at the pointed barb.

  “Of course,” Adrian ceded gracefully. “I’m sure His Majesty will understand.”

  Augustus once again diverted the conversation and the remainder of the meal passed without incident. We retired to the salon where I grew less and less aware of the pleasant conversation around us, distracted by Adrian’s tempest eyes stealing long, hungry looks my way.

  My mother wasn’t the only one who knew how to bait a mark. After a few moments, I extracted myself from the conversation and stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the garden. The cold touch of stone drew a muffled yelp from my lips as I positioned myself at the railing; back to the door, hips angled just so as I leaned casually on the balustrade.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long.

  I allowed myself a discreet smile of victory as the door clicked shut behind me. Soft leather scuffed against stone, and I counted every delicious step that led that beautiful predator into my trap. My skirts rustled as he brushed against them, halting so close I nearly faltered. Mustering my resolve, I maintained my disinterested vigil on the garden below as he drew a tentative breath. A sharp inhale of my own followed when his fingertips grazed my bare skin, and the sheer force of the fire that erupted across my flesh told me that I was not entirely sure which one of us was the hunter, and which the prey.

  I dared not move, barely dared to breathe, as those fingers drifted slowly from between my shoulder blades down to the small of my back, turning my core molten. It was an overwhelming breach of propriety, that caress, and intoxicatingly intimate.

  “You forget yourself, sir.” I fought to steady my trembling voice.

  “Forgive me.” He pulled his hand away, his voice low and husky. “That dress…I had to touch you.”

  I turned to face him with a slow, graceful twist, the fabric of my skirts dragging against his dark woolen trousers. His unapologetic nearness left me pinned between his body and the railing.

  “Satisfied?” I asked, forcing an edge of nonchalance into my tone.

  A soft laugh escaped his lips. “I think a man could drown himself in you and still want more.” I shivered involuntarily. Whether it was from the night air or his touch, I’m not entirely sure, but his brows immediately knit with concern. “You’re freezing. Let’s go back inside.”

  “A moment longer,” I protested a bit too quickly. “You keep slipping through my fingers.”

  He smiled his disarming smile as my teeth began to chatter. “I’ll make sure you’ve the opportunity to question me at your leisure.” He tilted his head with an apologetic shrug. “In relative privacy. Now come on, before you freeze to death.”

  It took several minutes to shake the worst of the cold from my bones, Adrian retreating to converse with Lord Augustus, no doubt an effort to dissolve any suspicion surrounding our brief absence. I lingered by the hearth and Aubrey gallantly brought me the blanket from his couch, wrapping it about my shoulders and hovering close to my ear.

  “I hope it was worth it,” he muttered. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch your death.”

  As the evening progressed, my mother surprised us all with an Istran quartet. Ruled by a Lesser House of Oristei, the people of Istra possess an innate gift for music, and it pervades their education and culture. They certainly did not disappoint. Accompanied by a singer from Vitri, they performed several beautiful ballads for us over the course of an hour as we sipped wine and I did my best not to stare at Adrian lounging in his chair.

  At length, a close was called to the evening, and we escorted our solitary guest to the door. “My sincerest thanks for your hospitality this evening,” he intoned politely, sweeping a generous bow.

  “It was our pleasure,” my mother replied. “You must join us again.”

  He straightened, grinning. “It would be my honor.” He offered my father another smaller bow. “My lord.” And one to me, a secret smile on his lips. “Miss Elivya.”

  At that, he made his exit, and we were left to the Lords Chamberlain. Aubrey hugged me fiercely as our parents made their farewells. Amber eyes met mine in earnest.

  “I know he’s charming, but keep on your guard. Two years ago, he set his sights on my cousin Claire, as well as several others.”

  There it is, I realized, the pieces falling into place. The reason for his dislike.

  “The year before, it was Serena fen Caerus and a rotating roster of ladies-in-waiting. The year before that, some Hydraxian princess had her heart broken when her father refused his proposal.” My friend gripped my upper arm with emphasis. “Van Dryns are about one thing and one thing only: enlarging and preserving their family’s empire. Be careful, Liv. I saw the way you looked at him.”

  “I will,” I promised, though I wasn’t entirely sure I could keep it.

  The following morning, I arrived in the garden for my solitary exercises to find two grim figures waiting there for me. Father stood before the fountain, a stern frown on his face. Nearby, Quintin hovered at loose attention, looking wholly unbothered by the biting cold. I would have shot him a withering glare, but he ignored my entrance with impressive determination. Sensing a lecture, I steeled myself and crossed the frozen grass to stand before my father. Shoulders back and hands clasped behind me, I presented myself like a soldier, largely because I knew it would annoy the Tuvrian.

  Father gave me an appraising look as I stood there in silence, his formidable anger at my disobedience still lingering in his countenan
ce. He’d barely spoken to me since I snuck out to The Greyshor, and his stone-faced crony had been equally absent, thwarting any attempts I might have made at verbally eviscerating him for his betrayal. He looked irritatingly unconcerned about such possibilities now, that immovable mask firmly in place.

  “Your mother,” Father began stiffly, “is the keenest mind I’ve ever known when it comes to surviving this…Court.” His mouth twisted with distaste at the word. “It is to her judgment I defer when it comes to matters of politics. I’ve no patience for it.” He shifted on his feet, his gaze hardening. “But your protection is my domain, and I have tolerated your recklessness for too long. You’ve put yourself and this House at risk too many times. That ends now.”

  I paled at the unrelenting look in his eyes.

  “From this point on, Quintin is to be your shadow. You do not leave this house without him by your side. Against my better judgment, I defer to your mother in allowing you the return of your undeserved freedom. This, however, I can ensure. Where you go, he goes. Is that clear?”

  “…Yes, sir,” I muttered miserably.

  “As much as I trust his skill at arms, I do not trust you to remain consistently within its circle of protection.” Father drew himself up, his thunderous tone leaving no room for argument. “So you will continue to learn the sword, and whatever other weapon Quintin deems fit for you-”

  A choked sound of protest tore from my throat, wordless and immediately overridden by the rising volume and ferocity of my father’s words.

  “-until he feels you can readily defend yourself without aid. In this garden, you hold no noble rank, and he is your commanding officer. Do you understand?”

  I spared a slack-jawed glance the Tuvrian’s way, but he refused to meet my gaze. Before I could organize an argument against such an absurd arrangement, Father’s black tones brought my attention firmly back to him.

  “Know that if you refuse to obey me in this,” he said, “I will send you back to Laezon and arrange your marriage in absentia. Consider this your final warning, Elivya. You have betrayed my trust for the last time.”

  Satisfied that he’d made his point clear, he glanced briefly at Quintin and then back at me.

  “Training begins now,” he growled, and stormed off into the house.

  We both stood there a long moment, waiting for the smoke to clear, before the sound of measured steps broke my dumbstruck reverie. Quintin rattled over to take my father’s place on the grass. By the lack of surprise on his face, I guessed he’d known of these orders ahead of time, though that visage of immovable stone pretty much always looked the same. The thought that my father would confide in him before me boiled my blood, and after a week of stewing over his betrayal, it was all I could do not to lunge at him in a blind fury.

  “Rat.” I spat the word at him and watched him bristle beneath his careful composure. “Did you go crawling to him the moment we returned, or did you dare to wait until morning?”

  “You may be the future of this House,” he countered stiffly, “but I serve your father. Not dragging you to him in the first place is what earned me this disgraceful assignment. You should never have been allowed to leave.”

  “Allowed?” I scoffed. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is not Tuvria. I am no one’s property.”

  His lip curled. “Your actions dishonor your father’s good name.”

  “My actions are to ensure the continuation of this House, not that you could possibly comprehend such things.”

  “You are an unwed woman,” he replied in the same icy, disapproving tone. “And a noble at that. Have a bit of decency.”

  I crossed my arms, glaring at him with all the prideful venom I could muster. He wasn’t going to be easily rattled but I was itching for a fight, so I threw decorum out the window and chose the words I knew would dig most at his prudish dignity.

  “Who I fuck is none of your business, armsman.”

  The angry flush of red in his face sent a glow of vindictive satisfaction through me, but he held his control tightly.

  “It is now,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “And you can be sure I’ll not allow you to dishonor your House further under my watch.”

  I huffed a derisive laugh. “Suddenly so dedicated to your disgraceful assignment.”

  “Like it or not, you are now my charge-”

  “Good gods, are you always going to be so dull?”

  “-and you will suffer me with-”

  “Suffer being the operative word-”

  “-with respect,” he concluded with force, eyes blazing furiously.

  I raised my chin and glared down my nose at him. “And why should I?”

  “Because it is your father’s order,” he seethed, advancing on me.

  I held my ground as he fetched up before me, several inches taller and about twice my weight in pure muscle – utterly terrifying, if I’d had the sense to be afraid. The careful restraint he typically maintained had been abandoned, replaced by stiff-limbed fury.

  “You want to go whoring around Dockside? Fine. But I have no qualms about tying a spoiled noble girl to my saddle and dragging her back where she belongs.”

  My anger flared to a bonfire. “You will not speak to me that way, armsman!” I snapped.

  He threw one hand out toward the garden walls, still staring me down. “Within these confines, I am commander and I’ll speak to you how I damn well please. Now draw.”

  I obliged with a vigor, foolishly hoping he meant to spar me. I wanted to cut those icy blue eyes right out of his face. Instead, he shoved past me toward the exit.

  “Complete ten full cycles of your one-handed drills. Both sides. Then you are dismissed for the day.”

  The garden door slammed shut behind him.

  He expected me to quit, to sheathe my sword and retreat to my bedchamber, to sulk like a sullen child. I’d give him no such satisfaction.

  I’d performed the same standard drills with my shortsword hundreds of times. Ten cycles was a challenge, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I burned through the bulk of my rage in the course of the first half-hour, fingers stiff and feet aching by the time I finished the final circuit. Sweat soaked my tunic, sending a skin-deep chill over me as I took a moment to catch my breath.

  One side down.

  Reluctantly, I shifted the blade from my right hand to my left, testing the feel of it with a few awkward swings.

  I’d never practiced the sword with my left hand.

  It took a long time to complete that second side of drills, but I managed it. With palms blistered and anger dulled by exhaustion, I trudged back into the house, clutching my aching left arm. As soon as I stepped through the doorway, a shadow caught the corner of my eye. Sunlight drifted through the tall windows that faced out onto the garden, illuminating the hallway and the stiff silhouette of a Tuvrian disappearing into the house.

  CHAPTER 19

  A handwritten note arrived the next morning, sealed and addressed to me directly. My mother passed it to me at the breakfast table with a satisfied smile. I cracked the wax and read Adrian’s scrawling hand.

  Come to the Greyshor tonight and ask your questions. I’ll be waiting.

  “I take it you’re going out this evening,” she said without bothering to read my face.

  “You know my requirements.” My father’s voice reminded, calm but stern.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quintin and I exchanged an acidic glare.

  That afternoon, long after my lessons were concluded, I whiled away the hours of waiting in the library. I pored over tomes of Darian and seafaring lore. I lingered over volumes of love and poetry, feeling pangs of jealousy and doubt as I reflected on Aubrey’s catalog of Adrian’s previous affairs, as well as guilt over my acerbic end with James. Finally, I landed on an older text containing detailed paintings of what I’d heard the Van Dryns refer to as “tall ships”. Tall, they were, with sweeping wooden bodies and billowing s
ails hidden amidst a web of rope lines. I’d never seen such a thing firsthand, and it was hard to grasp the scale of them.

  “Studying?” my mother’s voice interrupted my reverie.

  I looked up from the desk, unbothered by the fact that I hadn’t heard her enter. “Have you ever seen a tall ship?” I asked, unable to keep a hint of awe from my voice. “In person, I mean.”

  She rounded the table to stand beside my chair, reaching down to trace the image with her fingertips. “I have. They are more vast than pictures can express, and the sea is infinitely more inconceivable.”

  “How so?”

  “Boundless and mercurial. Unfathomably powerful and merciless.” She shut the book gently. “Someday, you will see it for yourself. Today, you must focus on the task at hand.”

  It didn’t feel much like a task. I relished the thought of another foray into the city, to laugh and dance and celebrate my youth outside the constraints of propriety, even if I had to drag that miserable Tuvrian along with me. I knew what she wanted to hear, though, so I humored her.

  “Plain household mount, common wools, Quintin with me at all times, limit my consumption, no jewelry...” I ticked off my parents’ list of precautions on my fingers, my tone droll.

  “And coppers only, in your pouch tonight,” she added, pointing at my waist. “A good cutpurse can hear the difference.”

  “How do you know all these things?” I shook my head bewildered.

  Her face shuttered instantly. “I wasn’t always your mother, my dear.” She touched my cheek with a guarded smile and left me to the books and my thoughts.

  The evening arrived without much ado. After a hearty supper, Shera helped me into my black woolen gown and cinched the narrow belt about my waist.

  “Where did you get these?” I finally thought to ask her.

  She glanced up at me as her hands fastened the buckle. “They’re mine, miss.” The startled look on my face made her laugh. “I leave the grounds once in a while, too, you know.”