“Tonight, we give thanks,” Father intoned solemnly, raising his glass. “To the Mother and her son Adulil, who bless the harvest and guide our people through even the darkest of times.” A murmur of assent rippled around the table.
“Dark times, indeed,” Augustus huffed from his chair.
“You are here because you value the soul of our nation over obedience to one man,” he forged on. Another murmur, this one less acquiescent. “Amenon has long ruled Alesia with a steady, fair hand, but loss and grief may break even the best of men.” His eyes scanned the faces around the table, an edge of remorse creeping into his voice. “I would not be standing here among you, were it not for our king. I rode at his side into battle, slept in the mud with him on the fields of Istra, guarded his life as my own. He was my brother,” his voice faltered. “My friend.”
A great silence filled the room as he collected himself, that gravelly tenor of grief still remaining when he managed to continue.
“So when I tell you that man is all but gone, you will know I do not say so lightly.”
My own gaze flicked over the room in an attempt to read the faces of those around me, but it was damnably difficult with the masks.
Father’s chin raised a fraction as he rallied his resolve. “I fear our king is no longer ours, poisoned in his own body by a foreigner who seeks to make Alesia yet another puppet nation for his god-king in Persica.” The table groaned as he slowly braced his palms atop it and leaned forward, fixing his stern gaze on our company. “We are the scions of Adulil and His Six,” he pressed on quietly. “What do we intend to do about it?”
It was a long time before anyone dared to speak.
“You would have us defy the King?” Leon’s father Ian ben Therus broke the silence, his timid voice edged with disbelief.
“You saw him at the audience,” Malcolm ben Fumandrel countered softly. “He has gone mad with grief.”
“He is still the King,” one lord of Guillar pointed out firmly.
“What kind of king lets the enemy burn his people in the streets?” It was one of our kin, an elder lord of House Estentis, who grumbled. On and on it went for several minutes, the tenor of the discussion growing progressively more brash and heated until my mother rose to her feet at the head of the table.
“Amenon has forsaken his bloodline,” she called out over the disharmony, and the assembled lords fell abruptly quiet, turning their attention to her with only a few lingering grumblings. “He has renounced Adulil and all but handed this nation over to a foreign power. Alesia is more than just a throne. Alesia is her people, and her people are suffering. If Amenon refuses to protect them, then that duty falls to us.”
“What is it you are proposing?” Augustus asked gently.
She spared him a glance. “If things continue to escalate, we will have a second war in our lifetime. Thousands more will die. Many of you fought in the War of Crowns, and remember well the brutality and the horror of it.” I noted several jaws tense. “I would prevent that at all costs.”
“Your ask, Nefira.” It was Reyus ben Oristei who spoke up, impatience in his voice.
She fixed him with her unflinching gaze. “I would ask you all, as representatives of the six companion bloodlines, to stand with us in forcing the removal of the King.”
Two dozen pairs of eyes stared at her, but she never wavered. I was trembling in my seat.
“And the priest?” Lord Therus pressed the silence.
“That would be for the steward queen to decide,” she replied carefully.
“Selice?” Aubrey finally spoke up. He looked to me, then back at my mother. “That’s your play?”
“In less than three weeks, she will gain her majority. At that time, the King will hold a public audience to present her to the people. That is when we move, with all of Litheria to bear witness.”
It was a brilliant plan. Terrifying and dangerous, but brilliant. At a public audience, we could each bring our household guards, fully armed, without issue. Alone, that might be only six or eight soldiers, but together it constituted a sizable force. With enough support from the nobility, even the Divine Origin’s guards couldn’t overpower us.
Should we fail, the King would be quietly assassinated shortly thereafter, spurring one last hope for Selice’s succession. That much, we kept to ourselves.
My father looked around at the masked faces in attendance. “Many of you served alongside me with our king. We fought not only for Amenon, whom we all loved, but also for his people. Our people. We did what was necessary to ensure their survival and the survival of our nation.” His gaze settled on Reyus at the far end of the table. “I would ask you to make that same sacrifice again.”
There are no words to describe the terrible silence that followed. The collective fates of two dozen nobles teetered on the edge of a knife. Every one of them knew full well the consequences of what we were asking. If we failed, if we were discovered, every person at that table would go to the gallows a traitor to the Crown.
“I, for one, am tired of hiding in my own city,” Augustus grumbled into his wine glass. He stood, his mind made up. “House Chamberlain is with you.” Aubrey stood as well, glass in hand, and I joined them with my own.
“I’ll not live the rest of my life in fear,” my friend added.
“House Therus stands with you.” Ian and Leon rose, glasses in hand.
“House Estentis as well.” Our Lazerin brethren.
One by one the other Houses stood until only House Oristei remained seated. Ulrich and Feran, once my suitors, watched their parents closely for their cue.
“Reyus?” my father’s voice cut through the air.
For a long moment, I thought he meant to refuse. Lord Oristei was an intimidating man, made more so by the bitter death of his beloved sister. His eyes were hard, unblinking as they maintained their long fixation from behind his violet domino. Finally, he dropped his gaze to his wine glass, fidgeting with it on the table.
“Damn it, Damien,” he muttered. He grasped it and stood, a sad, bitter grin crossing his lips as he raised his glass. “Mad Cavalry to the end, eh?” It was some private memory. I didn’t understand or need to. My parents did. He was with us.
I wished Adrian were there to steady me.
My mother’s eyes swept our company and she raised her glass. “For Adulil. For our heritage. For Alesia.”
“For Alesia,” two dozen voices intoned in unison. We drank.
The remainder of the evening passed quickly. After an hour in the salon discussing how many men each House could contribute to the effort, most took their leave. It was enough. It would have to be.
I felt wholly exposed, my throat laid bare. It was so damned dangerous and so easy for it all to go horribly awry. Shera lingered behind at the end of the evening as the rest of our small staff milled about, helping to tidy from the evening’s entertainment.
The shimmer of satin caught my attention as she approached my parents with hesitant steps. Skirts swished against the polished wood floor, drawing every eye, the hushed murmur falling to a striking silence. The deep and graceful curtsy she swept before them would have made any noble lady flush with envy. As she straightened, I saw the flash of certainty in her eyes, a fierceness I’d not seen since she’d shoved my sword belt against my chest and convinced me I was unbreakable.
“For what it’s worth, my lord and lady, we are with you as well.” All around the room, hands had fallen still.
“To the end,” Emmett added firmly, a stack of dishes in his hands. Beside him, Greta held her chin high, Poppy and Ellen frozen in place where they’d been straightening the last of the chairs. When Gabe and Preston pressed their fists to their chests in solemn salute, the sight of it tugged on a distant, lonely thread deep in my chest. One I’d long since locked away.
“Thank you.” My father’s gentle gaze swept over each of them, Mother’s fingers weaving with his. “Thank you all for your loyalty.”<
br />
With the last of the details seen to, our staff faded from the room, Shera disappearing up the stairs toward my bedchamber. As my parents bid me goodnight and started toward their quarters, I couldn’t help but give voice to the doubt that surfaced, shaken loose by the sudden quiet and the passage of time laid so glaringly before me.
“He’s not coming back, is he….”
They slowed to a halt, glancing at each other before turning to face me. The regret in my father’s eyes told me more than my mother’s careful regard.
Neither spoke a word.
I bit the inside of my cheek as my head bobbed in a leaden, bitter nod, the sharp sting of that abandonment cutting me to my core. In silence, I turned from them and headed for the stairs.
CHAPTER 37
I was halfway through my daily drills the next morning when my mother appeared in the garden. Turning to greet her, I stopped short at the expression on her face. She held a letter in her hand, the golden wax of the royal seal stamped plainly upon it.
“A summons,” she informed me stiffly.
My blood ran cold.
“We knew this might happen,” she reassured, though she didn’t seem terribly convinced, herself.
“…Do we run?”
“No.” In this, she was resolved. “It may be that he merely knows about the Samhain feast. If there is any chance our plans remain secret, we must do everything in our power to preserve the others.”
I sheathed my sword with a grim nod. “I’ll get dressed.”
My bath and breakfast were foregone in the face of the waiting summons. After refreshing myself as best I could in the washbasin, I dressed quickly and rushed to meet my parents for the carriage. As we rattled along the streets of Litheria, my mother reached one hand across to grasp mine, the other settling on my father’s beside her. She smiled at us both and gave us a bracing squeeze.
“Courage,” she murmured. My father lifted her hand to his lips.
The sapphire ring dug into my finger. Adrian. Fall was all but gone, and he still hadn’t returned to the city. With everything happening around us, I’d pushed my worry for him to the back of my mind in order to stay focused on the task at hand. My fretting could not help him. It could only hinder me. But now, as we jostled along toward our almost-certain deaths, I couldn’t help but wish I’d been able to see him one last time.
My mother reached into her handbag, drawing forth three tiny vials on loops of string. “Take these.” She handed one to each of us, securing the third around her neck and tucking it under her gown.
I held mine up to the limited light and shook it. A thin, pale amber liquid sloshed beneath the tiny cork. I knew what it was. She had taught me as much. Widow’s Tears.
Her gaze caught mine, steady and unwavering. “If things start to go badly, take it before the guards reach you.” My father tucked his under his doublet as my own hands fumbled to tie the cord behind my neck. My fear must have been written on my face because she took my hand once more. “It is a better way to die than they would grant you.”
We were met at the palace entrance by a small escort of King’s Guard, which did nothing to allay my fears. They led us briskly through the hallways and into the throne room, where we were herded down the long golden carpet with alacrity. A makeshift audience filled the hall, minor nobles, merchants, and wealthy lay people clamoring for royal favor.
“Disturbing rumors have reached my ears,” Amenon’s voice rolled over us as we made our obeisance. The King slouched in his chair with an expression of marked displeasure, the censer smoking at his feet. “My decree was perfectly clear, was it not?”
Solomon hovered behind the throne, black eyes watching. Selice was nowhere to be seen. Soldiers in white uniform surrounded us, their armor rattling quietly as they shifted. I gauged their distance from where we stood: three good paces, maybe four. It would be nearly impossible to consume our vials before they reached us.
“It was, Your Majesty,” Father responded on behalf of our House. His voice rang out strong and fearless in the massive marble chamber.
Amenon scowled at him. “And am I, or am I not, King?”
He knows. Terror gripped me, but my father didn’t even blink.
“Of course.”
Eyelids fluttered over pools of deep brass. “Yet you blatantly disobey my laws?”
“I think we both know they are not your laws.”
Solomon stepped forward from the shadows. “It was from His Majesty’s own lips, before this very Court, that he declared this city for Al’Rahim.”
My father’s angry glare settled on the white-robed priest. “I will be judged by my king, not you, Persican.”
“Solomon is my Royal Advisor, Damien. You will show him the same respect you would me.” Amenon paused, considering. “Though lately, that seems to be very little.”
I saw his fortitude falter. So did my mother, who stepped forward to take the lead. “House Lazerin has always been loyal to the blood of Adulil.”
Amenon tilted his head at her, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “You have a strange way of showing it.”
She spread her hands in a harmless gesture. “We are people of the Old Ways, sire. We cannot be other.”
“Then you will be as much elsewhere,” he snapped.
Hope and panic commingled in my breast. Perhaps we would not die here, but to be exiled from the city made our next move significantly more difficult.
“My lord,” my father spoke up, having recovered his resolve.
“Enough, Damien,” Amenon cut him off sharply. “The only reason you are not in irons is because of the history between us.” His dull eyes, ringed with dark circles and madness, scanned the three of us. Anger and betrayal creased his brow, curling his lip. “If you cannot abide by my laws, get out of my city. You are exiled to Laezon until further notice. Be gone from Litheria before sundown tomorrow, or be imprisoned for disloyalty.”
The carriage ride home was rife with relief and tension both. We were alive, but our precarious gambit was in dire jeopardy. I watched my father barely containing his grief at the bitter encounter with his friend. My mother’s eyes drifted somewhere far away, mind churning through the possibilities of our next move. Mine was frozen, numb in the face of catastrophe so narrowly avoided.
It was midday by the time we returned. After a quick meal, we shut ourselves into the study and debated. We could sneak back into the city, yes, in time to make our appearance at the King’s public audience. Our allies had to be warned, lest they believe we had returned to Laezon and abandoned our cause. Letters needed to be sent to every House, but which ones? Someone among our company had betrayed us to the King. We could find out, but it would take time, and time was not something we had in great supply.
In the end, we resolved to limit our missives to a vague reassurance of our continued dedication to the cause, despite our exile. In the weeks before Selice’s natality, we would find the traitor and deal with them. The final debate was over how to get those risky letters to our allies. They had to be delivered that night, before the spectacle of our banishment drew every pair of eyes in the city to us.
“I’ll take them.” My voice sounded surer than I felt. “I’m going to Aubrey’s anyway. He could help.”
“No,” Mother refused firmly. “Amenon knows Augustus is loyal to us. They’ll be watching them both.”
“Then I’ll take them all myself,” I pressed. “These letters are the most dangerous we’d ever sent.”
“Which is why we’re sending a courier. Maintaining anonymity is the safest option in this instance.”
“A courier might leave the letter with any indiscreet servant, or be stopped by the city guard,” I protested impatiently. “I can tell if I’m being watched. Followed.”
“So do Tommy’s boys.”
“I know how to slip a tail.”
“In theory.”
“I can be invisible,” I insisted. �
�That is what we need.”
“No. I’ll not risk you. You’ll take the Chamberlains’ message and no other. Be home before nightfall.”
In the end, she sent Gabe to ride hell-for-leather to Dockside with a letter for Tommy. I left for the Chamberlain manor alone.
Augustus’ face fell when I told him of our morning audience. Aubrey listened carefully to my parents’ instructions, soaking up every word. When his father finally took his leave, my friend sank into his chair and dropped his face into his hands.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, kneeling at his feet. “I shouldn’t have involved you.”
“No,” came his muffled protest. He lifted his gaze to me, a soft smile on his face. “I only wish I could’ve done more.”
“You warned us of Hydrax. That is more than enough.” I settled a hand on his knee in a feeble attempt at reassurance, but he barely seemed to notice.
“How do you do it?” he asked, shaking his head. “I’ve only known for a day, and I feel like my chest is about to burst.” One hand clutched at his tunic. “The uncertainty, the terror of it all, it’s suffocating.”
A soft laugh escaped my lips. “Treason isn’t for everyone, Aubrey. You’re too honest a man for this sort of thing.”
“And where is your honest man?” he toyed with the sapphire ring on my finger. “The one who should be helping you shoulder all of this.”
I wish I knew.
“When he comes,” I said instead, “if I’m gone, tell him…” His face flashed in my memory, tempest eyes stricken with grief at seeing his people struggle. “Tell him family and duty first. He will understand.”
Aubrey considered me a moment, then nodded in agreement. We talked quietly for a while longer, revisiting old memories to lighten our spirits, a brief respite from the burden of knowledge. When the sun sank low in the sky, I bid my dearest friend farewell and made my way home.
Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Page 42
