Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1)

by Melissa Ragland

  I had not been attended so in many months. I’d forgotten what a luxury it was. Once my rank garb was stripped from me, I sank into the hot water with a satisfied sigh. Deft hands patiently scrubbed every inch of my skin, fingertips massaging my scalp and working the salt-crusted mats from my hair. Rose oil was lathered into each strand, softening and scenting my long sable locks. I thanked her afterward as she helped me into a dark blue silk robe and opened the door for me.

  Adrian waited, sitting at the small writing desk at the far side of the room. His eyes lifted to me as I entered, quill stilling in his hand.

  “Better?” he asked with a soft smile.

  “Much.”

  He turned back to his desk and scratched a few more words before blowing on the ink and setting the missive aside. My heart raced as his polished boots thudded across the floor toward me. Something about his countenance had changed in the year gone by, his youthful spirit tempered by a weight I could not divine, lending him an air of maturity and solemnity that served as a stark reminder that he was nearly ten years my senior.

  “Are you alright?” I asked him quietly, one hand finding his face. He looked tired. Worry-worn.

  He pulled my hand gently to his lips, kissing my fingers. “Just some business.” His eyes caught the glint of the chain around my neck, and he eased it from beneath my robe. The sapphire ring dangled between us, catching the light. “I worried you’d lost it.”

  “Too dangerous to wear it openly, in Agorai.”

  He nodded, undoing the clasp. “Now that you’re home…” He slipped the ring off its silver links and back onto my finger, the tender gesture tugging at my heart.

  “I’ve missed you,” I confessed to the air between us, my voice cracking.

  He cradled my face in both hands and kissed me, long and deep. We made good use of our few hours of respite before dinner, hands and lips relearning every inch of skin. No begging this time, just the slow, smoldering reverence of two people kept apart for far too long. Time and distance had honed the urgent edge of our passion, molding it into something ocean-deep and unhesitating.

  The gown he had made ready for me was one of fine cotton, midnight blue to match his own doublet. I was to be his wife, and he meant to ensure there was no uncertainty of my place at his side. When we joined the others for dinner, Quintin’s brow twitched a bit, his disapproval carefully concealed. Augustus bowed graciously, thanking Adrian for his hospitality. With the niceties out of the way, we tucked into a decadent meal and exchanged stories of our year apart.

  The ocean had been a riot of activity. Shiploads of refugees from Rume and Makednos were fleeing across the White Sea. Many made for Kortas or the Islas Kledes, but some pressed farther west into our waters, heading for Syraci. Pirates found them to be easy prey, overloaded with civilians fleeing with anything of value. Adrian and his fleet had done what they could, but the White Sea is vast. Many times, they had come across the ghostly aftermath of such raids, ships silently drifting on the waves with their gruesome cargo. Women, children, all slaughtered without prejudice, and while Adrian and his fleet returned to port time and again to offload those who could be saved, the predators took advantage and raided the more valuable merchant ships.

  One hand raked through his ebony locks, the frustration of it clear on his face. “I cannot be everywhere at once.”

  “Could you send to the King for reinforcements? The Navy certainly has ships to spare,” Augustus suggested.

  A bitter smirk flashed across Adrian’s face. “I have. Twice.” He appeared to bite his tongue on a plethora of additional comments.

  It was an overwhelmingly impossible situation. When we retired for the evening, he spoke more candidly to me alone. Pulling at his hair, he paced the room.

  “If I split my forces too much, I’ll lose ships. My men are more than capable, but I can’t send them outnumbered against those savages. And the trade guilds are up in arms over their losses, of course.”

  “What do they expect you to do?” I commiserated from my seat on the bed.

  “They expect me to ignore the refugees and guard their interests first.”

  “And what does your father say?”

  A harsh laugh escaped him. “My father would have me let them all drown. ‘Family first’,” he mimicked Lord Yuri bitterly. “As if those ships weren’t filled to the forecastle with families.” He ceased his pacing and turned his tortured gaze to me. “Children, Elivya. And the women…I’ll not haunt your dreams with those stories.”

  “I am not ignorant to the cruelties of men,” I reminded him stiffly. My mother had made sure of that, my own experience notwithstanding.

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He slumped down on the bed beside me, staring miserably at his hands for a long moment. “They’re losing faith in me,” he finally grated out, each word softer and more broken than the last. “My men. My people. And the merchant guilds aren’t helping. I know what it is they expect of me, but I simply cannot turn a blind eye. I won’t.”

  I slid off the bed and stood, pressing myself between his knees. Taking his face gently in my hands, I lifted his eyes to mine. “Because you are a good man, Adrian,” I impressed upon him. “And because it is the right thing to do.”

  His eyes glistened at me, full of desperate yearning. He needed so badly to have someone – anyone – on his side.

  “Tell me what to do,” he whispered.

  Ah, gods, it tore at my chest to see him brought so low, to see him drowning in this mess so entirely beyond his control. I read that tortured, miserable, beautiful face, and knew what he needed – what I could give him.

  “You are the Sea Wolf,” I said firmly, still gripping his face between my hands. “And the White Sea is yours.” I lifted my chin in a defiant gesture, peering down my nose at him. “Make them remember why.”

  That night, I healed as best I could the fractures that plagued his soul. All his frustration, his helplessness, his loneliness, I took into myself. It was a battleground of flesh, brutal and grasping, and when the smoke cleared, the storm in his eyes had subsided.

  I watched him as he slept, black silk hair sprawled across his pillow, and realized that I had no idea how to help him. For now, all I could do was be a pillar of strength, an unwavering advocate for every difficult decision he’d been forced to make. I wouldn’t let him see my fear, my worry, my doubt. Those, I’d keep buried deep. My parents would have a plan. We could turn this tide. I had to believe it or risk despair, so I did and at length, slept.

  We lingered a week in Petrion. Even that was an exorbitant luxury, as it meant a week without Adrian’s ship and its two escorts protecting the coastal waters. The rest of the fleet was already on patrol, but their numbers were insufficient to the task, and lacking even three ships was a crippling handicap.

  When I mentioned our previous plans for me to join him at sea, his firm refusal brooked no argument. An already dangerous profession had become even more treacherous during our year apart. Though I had meant every word when I originally suggested the idea, I couldn’t help but agree. The last thing Adrian needed was a novice sailor and a distraction aboard his ship. I was of more use to my parents in Litheria, hopefully aiding them in reaching the King in his grief and rooting out the Persican infiltrators at Court.

  He needed me to tell him to go, so I did, even though every bone in my body rebelled against the words. I accompanied him down to the wharf that final day, Quintin trailing us discreetly. Aubrey and Augustus had said their farewells at the house, allowing us a bit of privacy, not that privacy had been in short supply. We’d spent half the week tangled up in his quarters without another soul in sight. I could still smell him on my skin as we strode down the docks toward his waiting crew.

  This time, there were no shouts from ship to ship, no howls for the Sea Wolf. His reception was one of mixed tone, some sailors saluting him from their posts while others mumbled to one another as he passed. He kept his back st
raight and his steps measured, but I knew it ate at him. I gave his arm a bracing squeeze where my hand rested upon it, and he flashed me a sad but grateful half-smile.

  When we reached the far docks, I noticed one vessel flying the Van Dryn colors, badly damaged and listing in the water as ragged civilians poured down the gangplank. Adrian placed a hand on the scarred wood hull, the way I might to comfort a spooked horse. A holler up to the forecastle brought a young but weather-worn captain down onto the docks to meet us. He clasped forearms with Adrian, who pressed him for a report.

  “We came up right in the midst of it, sir. Three of ‘em, two with their hooks in her and one standing guard. We were alone, but we gave ‘em hell. Sank their sentry right off, but took a few to the stern in the process. By Adulil’s grace, they didn’t hit our rudder, else I’d not be standing here.”

  A few hollow-eyed refugees stopped to touch his arm in thanks. He nodded and urged them on their way.

  “One of the boarding parties cut lines and peeled off to face us. We had the wind, but she was a much larger ship, sir. Barely scraped by on Brizo’s favor. The third turned tail and ran, but not before they set these poor bastards alight.” He lowered his voice, eyes flicking over the motley crowd. “We pulled as many as we could from the water, but… I’ll hear the screamin’ ‘til the day I die.”

  “Why were you alone?” Adrian demanded. “I gave specific instruction to patrol in pairs. Where was your escort?”

  “We’d come upon a capsized barge two days before. Captain Dmitri made for port with those we could salvage. I thought we could finish our sweep and rendezvous with the fleet.” He shook his head, looking very young. “Damned fool, I was. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Adrian watched him a moment before nodding at the ship. “You brought her back, though,” he said more gently.

  The haunted captain laughed humorlessly. “Managed a few repairs at sea and limped home, sir. Bailed water the whole way.”

  “And your crew?”

  “…Twelve dead, twenty-seven injured.”

  Adrian nodded gravely, eyeing the battered ship. “We’ll see her set to rights. You did well, Eric. These people are alive because of you.”

  No amount of praise could erase the shadows from that man’s eyes, but I saw him hearten as he looked at the throng of dark faces around us.

  “There’s something else you should know, sir.” He added, returning his attention to his commander. “A rumor, but a dire one if there’s any truth to it.”

  “Go on.”

  “Few of the folks we rescued, they said they overheard some of the pirates while they…” The man paused, sparing me a nervous glance. “Well, while they were takin’ what they wanted, if you get my meaning. Bragging about an alliance of some sort. Some pirate king taking control of the White Sea. Said there was a parley bein’ called in the Kledes, few weeks hence. Any and all black sails.”

  Adrian tensed in alarm. “Where is the rest of the fleet?”

  “Anchored off the southern coast of Erade, running small patrols like ours, as you instructed.”

  Blue-gray eyes flicked to me.

  “Go,” I said. Stay, I shouted in my mind.

  He gathered me in a fierce embrace, kissing me ardently, and then disappeared into the crowd. I followed as best I might, eyes searching the looming decks ahead as I slipped between the jostling bodies on the wharf. There, a flash of blue and the gleam of his black hair as he rushed up the gangplank. Orders rang out and were relayed to neighboring ships. Sailors scrambled, lines were cast off, oars run out. He raised one hand in farewell from the stern rail. I raised mine in reply, and then he was gone.

  I don’t know how long I stood there before Quintin’s hand settled on my shoulder.

  “Come on, miss,” he murmured.

  Seeing my immovable guardian bolstered me, a pillar of unfaltering strength even amidst the chaos to which we had returned. If he could face it without flinching, so could I. Gathering my resolve, I took a deep breath, buried my fear, and set myself to task.

  At dinner that evening, we discussed our plans moving forward. As Augustus set into his supper plate with determination, he announced that he’d booked us all passage back up the river on a passenger barge due to depart in two days’ time. With rowers laboring against the current, the journey back to Litheria promised to be a drawn out, tedious one. I pushed my plate away quietly, steeling myself for what I knew would be a difficult conversation.

  “No,” my voice rang out across the table, firm and resolute. Aubrey eyed me askance. “Quintin and I won’t be joining you.”

  His father blinked at me in surprise. “I can assure you, my dear, the journey upriver is much more comfortable than by carriage.”

  I could feel hard blue eyes on me and spared a glance down the table. Quintin sat dangerously still in his seat, quiet fury barely concealed. He’d been stone-faced and distant since we’d left Elas, barely even bothering to continue our lessons once we’d boarded Captain Russo’s ship. During our week in Petrion, he’d been all but absent, though I suspected that was largely due to the amount of time I’d been spending with Adrian. At the end of the day, he was still unapologetically Tuvrian, and I was still an unwed woman shamelessly spending her nights in a man’s bed.

  “We’ll ride,” I said, holding that icy stare.

  “Ride?” Aubrey balked, dropping his fork with a startled clatter. “Have you gone mad?”

  I turned back toward my friend. “You both heard Adrian. The southern fleet won’t last without aid. Every day, he loses more men. A ship a week, if not two or three. He needs my help, and I won’t sit on a damned pleasure barge sipping wine when I could be in Litheria doing something about it.”

  The two lords Chamberlain exchanged a hesitant glance.

  “We’ll take the king’s road,” I added, attempting to offer some reassurance without sounding like I was asking for permission. “If the weather holds, it’s only a few days to the White City at a good pace.”

  Augustus straightened in his chair across from me, clearly preparing to be the stern voice of reason. “Maybe so, but without a proper security detail-”

  “If we travel as sellswords, no one will bother us.” I wished I felt as certain as I forced my voice to sound.

  “There is a reason the merchant caravans travel with guards, Liv,” Aubrey intervened, leveling that solemn amber gaze at me. “Even the king’s road is rife with highwaymen in the best of times.”

  “At least wait a day or two so we can find a caravan for you to join,” Augustus implored, glancing at my livid guardian. “Disguised or not, it would be inappropriate for the two of you to travel alone.”

  I rolled my eyes at that. “I’ve just spent nigh on a month bedding down in a damp broom closet with not one but two young men who are not my husband. Not to mention the last week without a single word of protest from either of you.” My mentor flushed a rather brilliant shade of red.

  “Not my place to speak on such things, in another lord’s house,” he muttered, staring intently at his plate.

  Aubrey shot me a reproving glare. I felt a bit crass for laying such sensitive matters so bluntly before them, but scandal had fallen quite far down my list of considerations. They made a few more feeble attempts at protest, but in the end I held firm. I would not allow myself to be dissuaded.

  I was halfway to the staircase when quick, heavy steps closed on me from behind, a firm hand snatching my arm.

  “When were you going to mention this to me?” Quintin growled, tugging me round to face him.

  “That trip is two weeks and more upriver,” I replied, meeting his anger with my most recalcitrant stare. “If we ride, we can reach the city in a matter of days.”

  “And get our throats cut in the process.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few thieves.”

  “Just because I can handle myself doesn’t mean I go looking for trouble. The king’s road is dan
gerous, even for sellswords. We should at least find a caravan, like Lord Chamberlain suggested.”

  “That’s barely faster than a barge,” I dismissed, tugging my arm from his grip. He let go without protest, but kept that hard glare fixed on me.

  “This isn’t some royal outing into the Kingswood.”

  “And I wasn’t asking,” I snarled back.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he swallowed some sharp retort. “Do I even want to know?” he drawled instead, his tone shifting toward resignation.

  “I’m going to petition the King for ships.”

  The derisive snort he blew out his nose made me want to smash my fist into it. “The King doesn’t see anyone. He’s refused Adrian’s petitions twice. What makes you think he’ll even grant you an audience?”

  “If he won’t, I’ll find another way.”

  After considering my immovable countenance for a long moment, he turned from me with a grunt of disgust, shaking his head in exasperation and retreating down the hall.

  “Dawn, then?” I called after him, a triumphant lilt in my tone. He simply waved a grudging hand in the air, a silent and undeniably resentful accession to my stubbornness. As he skulked off, a single lingering sentiment ricocheted back down the hallway toward me.

  Stupid girl.

  I passed a long, heartsore night in our lonely bed, Adrian’s scent still lingering on the sheets and in the room. In the morning, I donned my sparring garb, stuffed my spare breeches and tunic into a canvas rucksack I pilfered from his closet, and plaited my hair tightly. Aubrey and his father sat chatting over breakfast when I made my appearance, Quintin picking at his own with a look of pure resignation on his face. I was grateful they didn’t make one last attempt to dissuade me, keeping to their own conversation instead while I savored the last fresh meal I’d have for several days.