Briare and Arradon had both been warned, though it took some convincing. My father had to pay a visit to House Ardontus himself, spending several days with Lord Miko and his wife Cheza to convince them of the impending threat. Ero and Ila had been easier to sway and had helped to turn their parents’ minds to our cause, if for nothing more than the excitement of taking part in some grand epic. The garrison at Arradon was small, but their influence was significant and they had sworn to put their resources to good use.
House Briad was easier to bring aboard. With the Royal Physician in disgrace, the Lesser House of Caerus was ready and willing to believe our accounts of the King’s decline. With their skills in engineering, their fort near the western border held a defensive position that rivaled any other. At my father’s request, they agreed to begin construction on a number of defensive engines and build up their own forces.
As for Frii, missives were sent to the commander of the Freyjan forces. Unlike the other Lesser Houses, they had no noble family. The leader of the province was their General, elected by a council of high-ranking captains once every ten years, or when the General died. Generals, once chosen, often served until death. Such had been the way of the Freyjan people since the original outpost had upended Tuvrian tradition, the women taking up arms to defend their homes when the men had been all but decimated by the border wars nearly six hundred years ago.
Several letters went unanswered. Finally, shortly before my father departed Laezon to return to the city, a final courier delivered a response: We stand ready.
It was enough for my parents. The Freyjan forces knew of the threat from Hydrax. It was all we could do, to warn them.
For our part, my mother and I filled him in on all he’d missed during his time away. He, too, was unhappy about my involvement of Aubrey, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He watched my mother with a carefully guarded expression when she told him of our deal with Tommy, but said nothing. I saved my news of Adrian’s reinforcements until the end to bolster our collective morale.
The pieces were in motion. Now we just had to keep the board from tipping over.
I was dismissed for the evening and made my way obediently from the room, my steps echoing down the hall. Once around the corner, I removed my slippers and doubled back barefoot, pressing my ear against the latched door.
“-could you possibly trust him?” my father’s muffled voice seeped through the wood.
“I needed his network.”
“After everything he’s done?” His anger reverberated through the dense panels.
I heard the rustle of my mother’s gown as she paced, a defensive edge to her voice. “The vast majority of my resources went west to help you. I couldn’t wait. We had to get ahead of it. Tommy was my only option.”
A long pause filled the air.
“And Quintin?” Another silence, followed by the sound of my mother sitting abruptly on the couch. “Still?” he pressed.
“Nothing yet.”
“Have you told Elivya?”
“She doesn’t need to know,” she replied with firm resolve.
“She should at least know he didn’t abandon her.”
“I need her focused. She’s too easily distracted.”
“She’s doing her best,” he countered gently.
Her voice fell, and I heard some fabric shift. “…I never wanted anything like this to fall on her.”
A creak followed more rustling, and I guessed my father had settled onto the couch beside her. “We could still send her away. To Syraci, perhaps.”
“The crossing is too dangerous right now. I won’t send her anywhere without Quintin. Besides, I need her here. I can’t do this on my own.”
Her words hit my heart with a pang. She’d never admit as much to me.
“You’re not alone,” he reminded.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Damien.”
“I know.”
Silence followed, permeated by quiet sounds of intimacy. I withdrew, slipping back down the hall.
CHAPTER 34
It was late summer when Selice fell ill. News of it spread quickly, tactfully leaked from the palace in a manner that left little doubt as to its intent. A surge of worry and public prayer seized the city. Priests of Adulil made their way into Litheria, organizing vigils and leading prayers in public squares, pleading with the Mother and our sacred ancestors to save our beloved Princess.
The Book of Days teaches us that all things simply are, no matter how painful. The balance of the world is one far beyond the scope of one person, one family, one village. It is the great breathing being that intertwines every bird, every stone, every blade of grass. Our sacred charge is life itself, in all its joys and miseries.
Still, we are human, and every one of us has been known to entreat our gods in the darkest of times.
All around the city, shrines appeared on street corners and in parks, filled with flowers, candles, incense, sheaves of wheat, and other offerings to Adulil. My parents and I held our collective breath in terror. If she died, all our carefully laid plans would be for naught. It was a miserable ten days.
I decided, amid the uncertainty, to visit James. Despite everything, I missed my friend. I’d not seen him in well over a year, and I held out hope that his resentment may have eased in my absence. After a brief search, I found him in the stable repairing a bridle. He looked up at my entrance and flashed me a friendly grin that made my heart leap. Perhaps he had found it in himself to forgive me, after all.
“James.”
“Hello, horse thief.” He turned back to his work.
I smiled. He’d not called me that in a long time. “I was glad to see you return with my father.”
“I was loath to leave home, but Seth needed me. Not enough experienced hands here. Erik and my father are keeping a handle on the foaling this fall. Lots of mares ready to drop when we left.”
“I hear Samson has his hands full as well,” I continued conversationally, settling onto a hay bale opposite him.
He laughed at that, nodding. “There’s an understatement. More fresh recruits to pummel into shape. The garrison is nearly bursting. Between that and the sickness, he’s not been at the estate much.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen any of our old comrades.”
“I did, actually.” He glanced up at me. “I reported for patrol last winter.”
“Truly?” I startled, surprised.
“I needed the coin, and I felt I owed it to them. They gave me hell for not showing up the last three years.”
Gods, had it really been that long?
“They must be thoroughly pissed at me,” I muttered.
“I took your lumps for you.”
“…Sorry.”
A long silence stretched between us as he wrestled a thick needle through the new strap. I searched his face as he worked. He was calm, his old wounds a distant memory; still sore, but replaced with something else. He looked happy for the first time in a long time.
“You seem well,” I observed.
He looked up from his stitching, considering. “I am,” he confirmed, flashing me a reserved grin. For once, I cursed my mother’s training. Part of me didn’t want to know.
“Married?” I asked, forcing a casual lightness to my voice I didn’t entirely feel.
Now it was James who searched my face. “Expecting our first this winter.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, fighting to dredge up a big smile for my oldest friend. “Congratulations,” I breathed with carefully measured excitement. “It’s a shame you’ll miss the birth.”
His eyes told me he knew I was dissembling, but he played along and let me keep my dignity. “I’ve a mind to ask your father for a few weeks’ leave in midwinter. Seth’s already agreed to cover my duties.”
I nodded a bit too animatedly. “I’ll speak with him and make sure of it.”
“Thank you.”
Ano
ther awkward silence stretched and I stood. “I should get going, Aubrey will be wondering where I am.”
As I turned to take my leave, he caught my wrist. “Leanne.” I forced myself to meet his gaze, those warm brown eyes staring up at me in earnest. “Her name is Leanne,” he added gently. “I think you’d like her very much.”
I forced a smile and a nod for him before I fled, locking myself in my room to nurse my aching heart in private. It was unfair of me, selfish in the extreme, to feel jealous. I am ashamed to admit to it, but I felt it all the same. James had been my first friend, my first love. It was I, not he, who had walked away. He owed me nothing, and yet it still hurt to know he had moved on so completely.
I should be glad I’d not irreparably damaged him with my reckless disregard; should be glad he’d managed to find happiness, as I had with Adrian. I was glad, or would be, given time and the honest council of a good friend – and perhaps a few glasses of wine. Resolved, I refreshed myself in my washbasin and headed to my afternoon lesson at the Chamberlain manor.
Days later, it was there that I learned of the rumor of Selice’s miraculous recovery, quickly followed by the King’s summons. A public audience would be held in the throne room for every noble and influential family in the city. When I returned home that evening, my parents and I speculated over dinner and discussed contingencies as best we could, but none of us were truly certain what this sudden public audience would betoken.
The morning of, as we made ready to leave for the palace, the household was tense. We spoke little, each of us lost in our own thoughts and fears of what was to come. The carriage ride, we made in silence.
We took our position near the front of the hall as one of the few Great Houses in attendance. Only Chamberlain and Oristei Houses were present from Adulil’s Six, along with a smattering of Lesser Houses. The rest of the throne room was packed with guild leaders, priests, and well-connected merchants. The Hydraxian delegation lingered discreetly to one side of the hall, their garish attire ruining their attempts to go unnoticed.
After a short wait, King Amenon emerged and took to the dais, followed closely by the Persican priest in his flowing white robes. The cleric carried a staff, this time, the silver censer swinging from a chain on its head. Smoke seeped from it as he took his place behind the King’s left shoulder.
A murmur washed through the crowd when Selice trailed in after and posted up at her father’s right. Her beautiful face was drained, magnificent eyes dull and exhausted. Despite her obvious frailty, she held her back straight and her chin high. It must have taken every ounce of her strength.
The King looked even worse than the last time I’d seen him, his eyes clouded with a complete lack of interest, dark circles ringing them. His clothes, though crisply pressed, hung from his emaciated frame. A golden circlet weighed heavily upon his brow, shoulders tense with the effort of supporting it. He raised one pale hand and the room fell deathly silent.
“I have called you all here today,” he began, “to bear witness to a great miracle. As you all know, my dear daughter, the Princess Selice, was recently stricken with the great gezgin sickness.” One hand gestured sloppily in her direction and his tone took on a blatant edge of bitterness.
“In the depths of her infirmity, I beseeched our Sacred Mother and Her blessed son Adulil to come to my aid, to save my firstborn from the illness that ravaged her.” His face twisted, voice cracking with grief and anger. “My prayers went unanswered, just as they did when Rishel lay dying, and Cerya before her. As my daughter approached death, the High Priest Solomon came to me at her bedside. He begged me to pray with him, to call to his god Al’Rahim in earnest to spare her life.”
An old echo of foreboding resurfaced in the pit of my stomach.
“It was He, the Divine One, who answered.” Amenon raised his voice. “When Adulil abandoned me to watch my child die in silence, it was Al’Rahim who took pity on a grieving father.” He turned to the priest at his side. “It is for this great service that I appoint High Priest Solomon my Royal Advisor before all here assembled.”
The priest stepped forward, layered robes swishing against the marble floor, barely audible over the flood of shocked murmurs sweeping the audience. Such an appointment vaulted the priest far above the rest of the nobility in terms of Court hierarchy. Apart from nearly unrestricted access to the King, the position also brought with it the stewardship of the throne in the regent’s absence. As such, the title of Royal Advisor was often given to the next of kin in line, so as to minimize the potential for contention, should the monarch fall while a steward tended the throne. But as Amenon had no siblings living, he’d never appointed anyone to the post.
Ignoring the blatant discontent among the nobility at such news, Solomon bowed low before the King, tall staff dipping humbly. Amenon nodded and waved him away, the stench of jadeweed wafting through the air. The priest straightened, resuming his post as my throat tightened with fear. Who now could gainsay the Persican snake? To the King – to any father – there was no greater boon than the life of his child. I couldn’t help but glance at Selice. Despite her exhausted state, her eyes glinted with anger, clearly aware that she had been made a pawn in the cleric’s schemes.
She was not the only one present who seethed. The King’s fury was palpable.
“For this betrayal,” he continued, “I will no longer tolerate the worship of Adulil or his treasonous Mother in my city.”
After a brief, shocked silence, a surge of dissenting murmurs swept the assembled crowd. I glanced Aubrey’s way, fear and disbelief cutting my breath short. My friend’s amber eyes met mine from afar, mirroring my own distress.
“I’ll not have it in my city!” Amenon bellowed, and the noise quickly dwindled to a blatantly discontented silence. The King’s lip curled, madness and fury warring within those brass eyes. “Any who defy this decree will be subject to the Crown’s justice.”
Augustus stepped forward boldly from the crowd, his voice carefully measured. “My lord, if I may-”
“You may not.”
“Life and death are the purview of the Mother,” a gentle voice wove over the gradual resurgence of murmurs.
Bodies parted to reveal a slight, unassuming woman in mist-green robes, hazel eyes gleaming. Somewhere between my own age and my mother’s, the vines in her long brown curls looked as though they’d simply grown there. The very air around her seemed more still, more settled, more alive in the most ancient sense of the word. High Priestess Valia looked wholly out of place in the stark marble hall.
“It is not for us to gainsay Her choices, Your Majesty,” she added.
Amenon’s face darkened, his voice low and terrible. “You dare to tell me my daughter should have died?”
She took a few steps forward, every movement reminiscent of a willow swaying in the breeze. “Adulil taught us of the great balance, and that witnessing it is the burden of man. Not to interfere with it, but to suffer and celebrate in equal turns as the cycle threads through our lives.”
“I have read the damned Book of Days, Valia.”
“Then you know that we all must suffer loss in this life.”
“Do not speak to me of loss!” he cried, his pale hands gripping the arms of his throne, nails chewed to the quick. “I have lost enough. More than enough. Too much.”
“Perhaps you fail to consider that there is another path.”
It was the first time I’d heard the priest speak, his lightly accented voice ringing out through the cavernous marble chamber, clear and conversational. A frozen stream in winter held more warmth than that voice. Solomon fixed High Priestess Valia with his dark gaze.
“Al’Rahim, too, demands suffering and sacrifice. In that, we are brethren in faith.”
“I fear that is where our similarities end,” she replied flatly, eyes blazing.
He smiled, a predatory thing filled with carefully-concealed malice. “Indeed, where your goddess demands you helplessly
suffer as she chooses, Al’Rahim asks that you decide the manner of your own sacrifice.”
“And who is it that decides one of your captives should be burned alive?”
He spread his hands innocently before him. “We are not barbarians. No one goes to the pyre who does not choose to be purified thus. It is the greatest and most noble of sacrifices, the most direct path to His Kingdom.”
She tilted her head slightly. “I wonder, then, why you do not dedicate yourself so.”
“One day,” he assured with a placid smile. “My work here is not yet finished.”
“Silence, the both of you,” Amenon barked. “I’ve not called this audience to listen to you bicker.” He straightened in his seat, the crown having fallen a bit crooked on his brow. “My decision is final. Valia, go back to your forests. You and yours are no longer welcome here.”
“But sire,” Augustus spluttered, immediately falling silent beneath the King’s withering glare.
“Take your barbarian faith back to the hinterlands,” he hissed. “My city is for more civilized folk.”
My parents dismissed me and closeted themselves in the study for long hours upon our return. Instead of pacing the halls or attempting to eavesdrop, I walked laps around the exterior of the estate, anxious strides tracing the high stone walls that encircled our city manor. When I passed the stables, I spotted James in the paddock, hard at work cleaning out a trough. The kind smile he offered in greeting faded at the look on my face.
“You alright?” he asked, setting the scrub brush aside.
“I need…” I fidgeted, feeling foolish. “Would you go for a ride with me?” I forced out.
Though my request clearly caught him off-guard, he agreed readily enough. We took the shortest route to the city’s eastern gates, the clatter of hooves on the cobbles the only sounds between us. Once we passed beneath that massive stone archway into the open fields beyond, I gave Valor his head.
Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Page 39
