Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1)

by Melissa Ragland

  As the summer solstice approached, I grew more and more agitated as each day passed and Quintin still did not return. After more than two months without word, I wasn’t too proud to admit that I was beginning to worry. When I broached the topic at dinner, my mother’s face took on the careful veil she wore when she was withholding something from me. I’d grown accustomed and didn’t press. Whatever it was he was doing in Tuvria, I wasn’t meant to know.

  Mother and I pored over reports from local noble households, which were much faster and easier to obtain, as her connections in Litheria were far more extensive than elsewhere. From that information, we built our guest list for a solstice feast. It would be a small affair compared to the one usually held at the palace, but Amenon had extended no invitations and all signs pointed to a continued silence.

  Notes of acceptance arrived promptly, with the majority of the Court desperate for gossip and public engagement. Our House might be on the fringe of the King’s displeasure, but my mother was well-known as a skilled hostess. In light of Amenon’s continued obscurity, people were willing to take the risk for some much-needed diversion.

  The night of the solstice, my mother slipped into my room as Shera pinned the last of my unruly locks into place. She looked radiant in a gown of deep emerald that matched her eyes. For me, she had commissioned a sleek silk dress in a dusky blue, intended to remind our guests of our impending alliance with House Van Dryn. Adrian’s ring glittered boldly on my finger, freshly polished and matched with a pair of sapphire drop earrings.

  My mother met my eyes in the mirror. “Ready?”

  I took a bracing breath and nodded.

  She glanced to Shera, whose face was as solemn as I’d ever seen it.

  “Yes, my lady,” she replied unasked. “We are all ready.”

  We were as ready as we were ever going to be. The tension in the house was palpable. Here, tonight, we had involved the members of our household in our intrigues. Shera, along with Poppy and Ellen, would act as our invisible eyes and ears, circulating through the crowd with trays of wine and delicacies. In the kitchen, Greta would ensure that our guests’ entourages had their fill of mead. Gabe and Preston, as gregarious fellow armsmen, would drink with them and carefully prod for information. Emmett, for his part, would catch guests’ first impressions as they came through the door. Wearing a mask takes a toll, and the act of donning it is often put off until the last possible moment – usually after cloaks and shawls are relinquished to an inconsequential doorman.

  The pieces were in place. Now we just had to make it through the night without giving away the game.

  It was a nerve-racking evening. For my part, I wasn’t concerned. I’d had years of training and practice dissembling around my peers. It was the involvement of our wholly untrained staff that put my teeth on edge. One slip, one overstep could alert the guests that there was more to this party than simple diversion.

  In the end, I needn’t have worried. Every last one of them performed their parts brilliantly. When the final guests had been escorted to the door, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief and Mother insisted each of them be debriefed before retiring for the night. It had to be done individually, and in private, to prevent any of the information from being tainted by suggestion. To help speed the process along, she sent me to the kitchen with Gabe and Preston to find out what they had learned from the guards.

  They had made for a dynamic team, playing counterpoints to draw the men into argument. People had a tendency to reveal more than they ought when engaged in heated discussion. By the end, they’d managed to acquire a few juicy bits of gossip that I doubted we could have obtained from any other source. Armsmen see much and are often disregarded.

  It was nearly dawn before my mother’s interrogations concluded. When she emerged from the study with a heavy-lidded Poppy in tow, we all stirred from our sleepy state scattered about the common room. On one couch, Gabe gave a snort as Preston elbowed him out of his brief slumber. Beside me, Shera perked like a hunting dog and spared me an unsettled glance. Without prompting, the lot of us heaved our way silently to our feet.

  My mother’s equally tired eyes scanned us. “I know you must have questions, and I regret that I cannot give you answers. You’ve all provided valuable observations from this evening, information we could not have gotten any other way. For that, I am in your debt.” Her voice took on an edge of warning. “Tonight, I trusted each of you with enough knowledge to bring the King’s wrath down upon our heads. I only ask that you trust me in return and speak to no one, not even each other, of what goes on inside this house.”

  “My lady,” Emmett spoke up after a short silence. She turned toward him, meeting his gaze. “You know that I am your husband’s man to the grave. Your man,” he said proudly, back straight and sharp chin held high. Greta beside him entwined one arm with his in support. “But I fear what we are about.”

  My eyes flicked around the room, reading similar concerns on others’ faces. To her credit, my mother didn’t flinch or fidget.

  “The less you know, the safer we all are,” she replied calmly, her confidence a reassuring presence.

  Emmett’s gaze never wavered from her, still waiting, still expectant. The others may have been satisfied with that response, but not him. After a long hesitation, she drew a reluctant breath and folded her hands neatly before her.

  “We are about the business of preserving the Crown and our nation as we know it. That will have to be sufficient, as it is already much more than I ever intended to tell you.”

  I read those faces in a hurry, my eyes flitting around the room once more to soak in every drop of fear, confusion, and worry. Beneath them all, though, I saw resolve steeling the members of our unlikely party. That tiny, perilous piece of truth was enough for them.

  With that, she called a respite until midday, dismissing everyone from their morning duties. Murmurs of gratitude and assent rippled through our company as they took their leave, Mother and I lingering in the common room.

  “You told them too much,” I warned quietly.

  She stared after them. “I told them as much as they needed to hear. I would not have involved them if I didn’t already trust their discretion.” She turned a wry smile on me. “I choose my staff wisely.”

  Of course, she would. Half of her informants labored in the service of one noble house or another. She could spot an operative from across the room. Her soft hand touched my arm in parting.

  “Get some rest. Goodnight, my dear.”

  I watched her go, the layers of her gown rustling on the wood floor. Standing alone, the first lights of day caught my eye, the barest blush of indigo peeking through the windows high above my head. The solstice had come and gone with no word from my scowling guardian.

  “Liar,” I whispered to the emptiness.

  I barely slept, a few restless hours dragging past before the itch of routine forced me from my bed and out into the garden. Drills were a salve, a physical release for the tension of my spinning mind. Thoughts tumbled over one another as I worked through the forms, cataloging and processing the information from the night before.

  When I returned to my room, Shera was already bustling about, laying out a day gown on the freshly-made bed.

  “I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” I said in greeting.

  She just smiled and waved me toward the privy where a steaming bath waited. I peeled my sweat-soaked clothes off and tossed them aside, stepping gratefully into the tub.

  “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself,” I called to her. “I have plenty of experience drawing my own bath.”

  She closed the door and crossed the tiles toward me. “Then you know what a pain it is to do on your own.” She sat down on her stool and handed me the ball of soap.

  I began scrubbing myself clean. “Are you uneasy about last night?”

  She stiffened at my shoulder. “We aren’t to speak of it. Lady Nefira was very clear.�
��

  “Good.”

  Shera scoffed. “Are you… testing me?” Teasing, more like. When she caught sight of my smile, she splashed me. “Some friend you are!”

  I caught her hand. “I am a poor excuse for one, I know. But not you.” I looked over my shoulder at her. I cherish you, I wanted to say, but my lips couldn’t form the words. She just smiled that knowing smile, kissed my cheek, and returned to her task in silence.

  We broke our fast over lunch, every pair of eyes in the house harboring tired shadows beneath. My mother was preoccupied and said little until we had closeted ourselves in the study.

  “You should have slept,” she scolded as she pulled out our guest list from the evening.

  “Drills help me think,” I countered.

  She glanced up at me. “I need you sharp. Focused.”

  “I’m fine. Let’s just get to work.”

  We pored over the information gathered at the feast, making notes and removing names from the list one by one. It was tedious, mind-tangling work, but we managed to get through it in the space of a few hours. When she finally called a close to our deliberation, my head ached and afternoon light poured in through the tall windows.

  “You should get going,” she said gently.

  “They’re going to be furious.” I dreaded my lesson for the day, and for good reason. Augustus and Aubrey had not been invited to our solstice feast.

  My mentor greeted me stiffly in the foyer of his opulent manor. He was angry, yes, but hurt as well, which was even harder to face. I curtsied low and proffered the sealed letter my mother had given me. Augustus snatched it from my hand and I waited demurely as he broke the wax. His expression softened as his eyes flitted across the page.

  “Well,” he said, folding the letter and tucking it into his breast pocket. “I suppose we should get back to work.”

  Aubrey was less angry, but also less willing to forgive. In our post-lesson chat, he prodded me relentlessly. “You know I love you no matter what,” he said, sitting across from me in his plush armchair and pinning me with his solemn amber gaze. “But to push me from your life is a hurt I cannot countenance.” There was a time when he could pry anything from me with that look. Not anymore. The stakes were too high.

  I shook my head. “I’m doing no such thing. You are my dearest friend in the world. I’m only trying to keep you safe.”

  He threw up his hands in exasperation. “And who will protect you? Your damned Tuvrian is gone, Adrian is off at sea, your father is away in Laezon, and your House is in the King’s disfavor.”

  It ate at my nerves to keep him in the dark.

  His eyes took on a flicker of hurt. “Do you really find me so untrustworthy?”

  “It is your father whose discretion cannot be relied upon.” It slipped from me before I could bite my tongue on the words. Damnit.

  Betrayal creased his brow, but he knew he’d managed to get something from me that I’d not intended to share, so he measured his tone.

  “And me?”

  It was too late. The words could not be unsaid. “You, I would trust with my life,” I reassured gently.

  He set his glass aside and slid to one knee before my chair. One soft, warm hand grasped mine. “Then why don’t you?” he pressed.

  A rueful smile flitted across my lips, my palm finding his cheek. “Because I don’t trust myself with yours.”

  Watching his face fall carved a hole in my chest, but my mother had been very clear. Anyone we involved, we must be willing to kill with our own hands to protect the cause. Aubrey, I knew, I could not. I feared he would push me away in anger, in retribution for my refusal, but that was not his way. He was better than that. Better than me. Instead, he just heaved a resigned sigh.

  “Then will you at least tell me what I can do to help?”

  I considered it, wondering what Mother would say. I knew I should ask her first, but the look in his eyes broke my heart, so I chose what I thought could put him – and us – at the least risk.

  “Your family maintains patrols along the Hydraxian border?” I ventured carefully. His home province lay on the southwestern border, along the coast of the White Sea.

  “We do,” he confirmed, those amber eyes brightening and shoulders setting with the same hopeful resolve I’d seen in Agorai.

  “Keep me informed of anything you hear from Cambria. Even the least notable gossip might be helpful.”

  He flashed me a smile and pressed my hands to his lips, and I felt some of the heaviness lift from my heart.

  It pacified my friend and infuriated my mother, who railed at me in the study after dinner that night. “We agreed, Elivya! You swore to take no action without first consulting me! You cannot involve people without asking!”

  “He’s not involved!” I protested. “He doesn’t know anything!”

  She ceased her pacing and ticked off my oversights on the fingers of her left hand. “He knows we’re about something illicit enough to keep carefully hidden. He knows we’re interested in keeping an eye on the border. He knows about your training! That alone is more than enough to put us all at risk!”

  “He wouldn’t betray us. I know Aubrey.”

  She shook her head, eyes flashing angrily. “That’s not the point! We’ve been over this! If we are discovered, if his involvement is discovered, are you willing to take his life?”

  I lolled my head in frustration. “Why does it always come to that, with you?” I protested, exasperation overruling my steady tone.

  “Because that is what it takes!”

  The air between us fell utterly silent. In nineteen years, I’d never seen her lose her composure so completely. Ghosts swam in those bright green eyes, the telltales of fear writ plainly upon her face. Turning away to collect herself, she ran a hand through her long raven hair.

  “You cannot act unilaterally.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Do you understand?”

  I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  “Get some sleep,” she commanded, not looking at me. Wounded and angry, I obeyed.

  CHAPTER 33

  Adrian’s letter arrived a week later. Emmett presented it to me at breakfast as I sat in my sparring gear, my mother fixated on a report in her hand across from me. I practically snatched the paper from him when I saw the dark blue seal. Heart racing in my chest, I tore into it like a starved animal, hands trembling as my eyes devoured the contents.

  Dearest Elivya,

  Our time in Petrion was too short. I have so much I wish I’d said to you. The world is not what it was, and I fear there is little room left for tender moments. I am sorry to not have you here at my side, but glad at the same, as this has become a grueling and brutal duty. The tide of refugees has slowed somewhat, though the presence of the marauder fleet has only increased in the last months. Our conscripted privateers have helped a bit, packs of brawlers set loose on the open sea, but they can be difficult to manage at times. They lack the loyalty and discipline of our core fleet.

  I have returned to port with a shipload of civilians to find a windfall of good fortune. The King has loaned us ten new galleons fresh from the shipyards in Dax. They are larger and better-equipped than our frigates and will help take the brunt of the rescue efforts, freeing us to focus on driving this pirate king back into whatever festering hole spawned him.

  I wish you were here. I’ve only a day to spare as we re-outfit before returning to the fleet, but my heart aches to think of what we might have done with it. Know that I will do everything in my power to come back to you and make you my wife. We will have long winter months to begin working on our horde of sea children.

  All my love,

  Adrian

  Alive. He was alive. I smiled, tears on my cheeks, and managed to quash the urge to press my lips to the paper. My mother watched me furtively over her own letter. After a moment’s hesitation, I obediently offered her the page, but she waved me off.

  “Those wor
ds are for you alone, my dear. I only need the summary.” When I’d provided as much, she loosed a relieved sigh. “Finally, some good news.”

  “And yours?” I asked, nodding to the paper in her hand.

  “Your father is concluding his business and returning to us.”

  “How long?”

  “A few weeks, perhaps.” Her face was guarded.

  “What more?” I pressed.

  She fidgeted with the missive and set it aside. “The illness has reached Laezon.”

  My floating heart crashed to the floor. “How many?”

  “A few of the outer villages so far. Samson is keeping an eye on it.”

  It seemed ridiculous to expect a soldier, no matter how seasoned, to be able to do anything against an illness. My mother was confident, though, and I expected she had greater faith in my father’s garrison commander than I did. Perhaps it was just a matter of keeping order. In that case, he was the perfect man for the job.

  My father and his retinue returned three weeks later. We stood in the courtyard to welcome them, every face haggard and worry-worn, more so than the journey alone would warrant. Among the retainers, James and Seth filed in through the gates, red-brown hair and matching freckles caught in the afternoon sun. James’ eyes met mine, an old thread tugging on my gut. They dodged away again as he swung from his saddle with alacrity, handing Seth his reins and moving to take Midnight from my father. The old black warhorse flicked his ears but allowed himself to be led off to the stable. To my delight, Valor had made the journey as well, plodding along behind Seth on a lead line. He looked irritated and fat, which made me smile.

  My father embraced us both, ushering us inside and into the study, where he laid out the state of conditions back home. To our relief, the sickness didn’t seem to be spreading. Two villages had been decimated, but there didn’t seem to be any new reports of infirmity in any others. Samson was maintaining the garrison, working with the summer’s new conscripts and making plans to call back more seasoned soldiers for patrol. The Lazerin cavalry would be at full force before spring.