A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  “Be here on time tomorrow,” Quintin growled at me and took his leave. He might have helped me piece myself back together after the assault in Dockside, but he could still be an ass. I glared after him as he disappeared toward the aft of the barge.

  “Is he always like that?” Adrian watched him stalk off.

  “Pretty much,” I mumbled, sheathing my weapons.

  He stopped a few steps from me, looking me up and down. “I have to say, I much prefer you in silk.” It made me laugh, which made him smile. “Come, you must be dying for a bath.”

  I followed him to a small room near the galley. A large copper tub took up most of the space. He ducked his head into the kitchen and called for the servants to draw a bath.

  “I was expecting a basin and some river water,” I admitted. It was another exorbitant luxury.

  “Fetch your things, I’ll make sure you’re well attended.”

  My muscles sang as I sank into the steaming tub. A solicitous maid poured a few ewers of water over my head.

  I heard the door open and close. “That will be all, thank you.” Adrian’s sultry voice sounded from the doorway. Without hesitation, the woman set down the ewer and took her leave, bobbing a curtsy before slipping out the door.

  “You mean to make a scandal.”

  “Our staff is very discreet.”

  “Does this mean you’ll be joining me?” I teased coyly.

  He smirked, shedding his tunic. “Can you blame me?”

  I raised my chin proudly. “Well, after seeing me in my breeches, I’d be surprised if you could resist.”

  Ah, gods, it was sweet. We reveled in our youth and our newfound love. For five days, we traveled the river, the hours filled with friends and good conversation. I found myself enjoying the company of the children, chasing and playing silly games. Natalia’s company, too, I relished. We talked at length, often with her twin boys toddling around us, and I came to know her better. She was a proud woman with a fierce, fiery heart. Several stories of her days at sea surfaced in our evening debauchery. As a mother, she was patient and kind, but in battle, she had a reputation for being ruthless. Aubrey and Alec developed a rapport and spent much time in one another’s company discussing philosophy.

  In the mornings, I kept my word and met Quintin on deck at dawn. After the third day, we drew a small crowd, and on the fourth, Natalia and Alec wanted to join in. They were both capable soldiers, but when they wagered they could best my Tuvrian commander, I knew they were outmatched. I said nothing, though, eager for some entertainment.

  He allowed them to press him for a time, diplomatically making a good show of it. His footwork was patient, circling them and keeping them both in front of him. I saw the switch when he decided to end it. It didn’t take long. With five quick strokes of his twin swords, both siblings were disarmed. Awed applause rang out from the bystanders, and Adrian’s siblings bowed good-naturedly in concession. Quintin sheathed his blades and returned the bow politely. I couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride. He might be an insufferable prude, but he was a member of my household.

  The nights, though, the nights were ours alone. Adrian and I drowned in one another. Hands mapped every inch of skin, lips captured every impassioned breath. We lay in a tangle of sheets and limbs and spoke of past and future. His body was a web of scars, and he remembered the source of every one. I told him of my time at the garrison. When I described being knocked unconscious in a sparring match with Trente, he flinched visibly.

  “Why did you do it?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Why put yourself through such misery?”

  I met his gaze. “Why do you?”

  “Because it is my duty,” he replied practically.

  My head settled back on his chest as I gathered my thoughts. “I suppose I feel it is mine as well. I may not be a man, but I am heir to my House. Such requires a strength that cannot be learned sewing embroidery or playing the lyre.”

  “There are other kinds of strength,” he countered gently.

  It was true, and I knew it. I had seen it in my mother, the most formidable woman I’d ever met. Her presence alone commanded respect, and time and again she had surprised me with her vast knowledge and keen intellect. Natalia, though trained to the sword, radiated a different kind of strength: confidence and constancy and ruthless protectiveness. I pitied any bastard who dared threaten her family.

  But that was not my way.

  On the fifth day, in the bright afternoon sun, we drifted out the mouth of the Septim river and into the Bay of Brothers. The port was immense, flanked on both sides by two vast cities. To the north lay Petrion, the bustling trade hub of Daria; to the south, Venici, a gleaming jewel of luxury. Where the two cities bled into one another, a great wharf sprawled along the bay. I am hard-pressed to do justice to the expanse of it. Dozens of docks extended their fingers into the water, vast ships tied alongside. Men swarmed like ants up and down the wooden planks, hauling barrels and crates on hand-carts.

  The ships themselves, I marveled at most. More vast even than our well-appointed barge, their swooping hulls sat low in the water. Thick masts reached skyward, webbed with a baffling array of rope lines. Aubrey joined me at the rail to stare in awe. Under the guidance of our stalwart captain and his able rowers, our flat-bottomed boat pulled gracefully into an open slip near the end of the docks. Other barges nearby scurried with sailors loading and unloading cargo.

  We disembarked and waited as our trunks were offloaded. Lord Yuri hired porters and saw to the necessary arrangements. Adrian led our party down the wharf, Natalia linking arms with me and Quintin close behind. It felt good to stretch my legs. As we passed the barges and strolled along the rows of tall ships, I saw sailors taking note of our presence. Calls rang out between crews, and eventually, I was able to make out their words.

  “The Sea Wolf!” they shouted. “The Sea Wolf has returned!” Cheers were accompanied by a chorus of howls from various vessels. Adrian raised one hand in greeting as we made our way down the wharf.

  “The Sea Wolf?” I asked Natalia at my elbow.

  She beamed proudly at the back of his doublet. “He’s made a name for himself, my big brother. The coastal waters are safer now than they’ve been in generations.”

  I watched as a few bold sailors approached him, removing their hats and speaking in hushed tones. Adrian clasped forearms and patted shoulders, every man and woman greeted as a brother or sister in arms. He was a well-respected and well-loved leader here, in his home. I realized, then, that this was his family as much as the blood kin around me.

  We halted before one great ship, a weathered older man in a bright yellow coat waiting to greet us. He clasped arms with Adrian and turned to us with a broad smile. He reminded me of Lord Augustus, only a bit more roughly featured.

  “This is Captain Russo,” Adrian introduced. “He will see you to Elas.”

  “An honor, my lord and lady,” he bellowed, offering Aubrey and I a sweeping bow.

  “You’ll find no safer berth across the White Sea,” Adrian assured us. We expressed our thanks and the captain shouted orders to have our belongings loaded. Aubrey and Quintin made their farewells as Natalia wrapped me in a crushing embrace, followed by a swarm of wailing children. My husband in all but name waited patiently.

  The time had gone too quickly, and my heart ached to leave him. He buried his face in my hair as his strong arms enveloped me. I clung to him, breathing deep his scent, trying to commit it to memory.

  He released me and pulled something from his pocket. Taking my hand, he slipped a ring onto my finger - silver, set with a large sapphire, the darkest I’d ever seen. Rough hands cradled my face, kissing me with ardor.

  “Come back to me,” he whispered, his forehead leaning against mine.

  “And you,” I promised. “No new scars, alright?”

  He raised his brow at me. “You know I can’t promise that.”

  I was so terribly afraid for him, but this was the life I had chosen. “N
ext season, you’re taking me with you,” I thumped his chest half-heartedly.

  He smiled. “That will be a sight to see.”

  I laughed, a tear slipping down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb as I raised my eyes to his in earnest. “Just be careful.”

  Nodding, he kissed me one last time, then released me to join his party. The Van Dryn horde waved from the wharf as the lines were untied and our ship drifted backward into the harbor. Rowers heaved, turning us slowly toward the open sea.

  It was a very different experience, being aboard a tall ship. Once we hit open water, the vessel lurched and bucked methodically beneath our feet. Aubrey did not take it well, growing green in the face and heaving his lunch over the railing. The captain laughed good-naturedly, patting him on the back and assuring him that it would pass. For my part, the sway of the ship reminded me of riding a very large and poorly-gaited horse, and I grew accustomed to it fairly quickly. Quintin didn’t seem fazed in the least, though a shadow lingered in his eyes.

  Our berth on the merchant vessel was cramped and significantly less luxurious than the one we’d enjoyed the previous week. We shared a single small cabin, outfitted with wooden bunks and lumpy mattresses. I noticed Aubrey set his chin determinedly in the face of such abhorrent conditions, but it reminded me of the garrison, and I quickly grew accustomed to the snores of my two male companions.

  At Quintin’s insistence, we continued our morning practice, being assigned a small section of the deck where we wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. The motion of the ship challenged my balance, and I faltered much more frequently. Even my patient instructor was pressed, sweating more than usual under the extra exertion. There was no great copper tub in which to wash the grime from myself each morning, but I did my best with the basin of water and small towel provided to me in our tiny shared privy.

  Even at the garrison, I’d been able to sneak off to the well and wash myself fairly regularly. Despite the luxury of a basin filled daily with precious fresh water, I stank. We all did. After the first week, I didn’t dare don any of my gowns, choosing instead to fester in my spare breeches and tunic for fear of contaminating my good clothes. Salt spray crusted my hair, and after a few days of battling with it, I plaited it tightly and left it for the remainder of the journey.

  I turned eighteen on our passage to Elas. Despite my protests, Aubrey saw to it that everyone on the ship knew. Captain Russo humored him and allowed the crew to spend an hour or so celebrating on the deck with us. A few of the lads had instruments, and we made as good a time of it as we could, under the circumstances. As it turned out, we were able to manage quite well. I may have been filthy and rank, but so was everyone else around me. We danced and sang lewd shanties, and drank our extra ration of wine with good cheer.

  It was a long, cramped, miserable three weeks, and by the time we sighted the port at Atenas, I’d never wanted a bath so badly in my life. We were hard at our morning drills when the call rang out from a sailor near the top of the main mast. Our blades stilled, and we followed the collective gaze down the coastline to a gleaming white speck in the distance.

  “Atenas!” the captain called down to us jovially from the forecastle.

  The city drew closer over the course of the day, revealing a sprawling metropolis that climbed over rolling hills beside a grand port. Atop the highest point, a complex of bright white marble structures gleamed in the late afternoon sun. As for the rest of the city, it looked much like any other; wood and stone and daub buildings, folk swarming through the streets. As we pulled into the dock, I noticed that, aside from the porters on the wharf, many of the common folk draped themselves in colorful tunics and robes.

  “Merchants and the like,” Captain Russo explained. “The colors reflect their guilds and their status.” He saw to the unloading of our trunks and helped us to hire porters at a fair price, then bid us a fond farewell.

  The three of us stood on the wharf in a foreign city, far from home. Aubrey beamed excitedly, eyes taking in the bustling scene around us. Quintin twitched anxiously behind me, scanning the crowds. For my part, I was miserably filthy and eager to locate our lodgings. Our porters led us up the cobblestone streets toward the center of the city, their patient carthorse plodding along obediently. We followed on foot, our guardian bringing up the rear. I caught a few looks, still dressed in my breeches and tunic with my sword on my hip. My hair was caught back in its tight plait, but I still looked very much like a woman. Atenas was renowned as a progressive city, but I saw no other women in such garb.

  Night had fallen by the time we arrived at our destination, a tidy wooden house tucked neatly alongside many others just like it. Aubrey knocked politely on the door, which was opened after a short wait by a wizened old woman in a spotless apron. She scanned our company with sharp eyes.

  “You must be the Alesians,” she grumbled.

  Aubrey offered her a charming bow. “Aubrey ben Chamberlain, at your service, madam.”

  I saw a flicker of amusement cross her face. He would soften her hard demeanor in time. He had a knack for such things. “Well don’t just stand there like livestock, come inside.” As we obeyed, she continued in her curt tone, herding us into the common room. “I do the cooking and the laundering, but make no mistake. I am no one’s servant.” She eyed Aubrey and me suspiciously. “You two are siblings?”

  We exchanged a glance, and I answered for both of us. “Near enough.”

  She nodded. “Good. I’ll have none of Bacchus’ nonsense in my house. No visitors after dark. No feasts or fetes or whatever it is you Alesians do for recreation. If you want to make a ruckus, you’ll make it elsewhere. Am I understood?”

  We both fought to suppress our smiles. “Yes, madam,” we agreed in unison. Satisfied, she left us to get settled.

  I paid our porters a bit extra to see our trunks to our rooms and dismissed them with thanks. The old woman, whose name I soon learned was Lyra, ran the house alone. It was a modest home but tidily kept. She waved a ladle at me when I encroached on her domain in the kitchen, but relented when I made it clear I meant to draw my own bath. Pointing to the large copper pot near the hearth, she grumbled some direction as to the location of the well before returning to her cooking.

  I made do, but it was hard work. Drawing the water and heating it, I hauled pot after steaming pot to the small wooden tub in the privy. After the third trip, I was thanking the Mother Herself that the damned thing was on the first floor. It took eight trips and over an hour to fill the entire tub. When I finally shed my salt-crusted clothes and sank into the lukewarm water, I had never been so grateful for anything in my life. Scrubbing myself vigorously with a coarse brush, I used the lump of soap liberally. My hair took some work. Once I was able to coax it from its matted braid, it took a full half hour and generous amounts of oil to comb out all the knots. One final lather of soap to my scalp and I was blessedly clean at last.

  Dressed in one of my simple wool gowns, I made my way into the dining room, which was the same as the kitchen; a small wooden table and chairs set off to one side away from the hearth. Aubrey and Quintin still sat in their traveling clothes, spooning stew into their mouths. I wrinkled my nose at them as Lyra deposited a bowl in front of me.

  “You needn’t be rude,” Aubrey pointed his spoon at me. “We were being chivalrous in letting you have the first bath.”

  “Still needs to be emptied,” our silver-haired cook grumbled. It was true, but my hunger had forced me to put it off until after supper.

  “I’ll manage it,” I reassured her.

  “No hurry, the baths down the street are open late.”

  Aubrey perked. “Public baths? Still?”

  “For eight hundred years,” she informed us proudly. Her nose twitched in distaste. “Still only for the men, though. You have to go halfway across the city for the women’s baths.”

  “Remarkable,” my friend commented in awe at the revelation. “Do they still use the same geothermal systems to heat the wa
ter?” he pressed her.

  She waved him off. “How am I to know? Not like I’ve ever been.”

  In his excitement, he proceeded to explain the ingenious mechanisms designed to use heat from beneath the ground to warm the water without wood. I couldn’t have cared less.

  After supper, the two of them made their way out into the night, returning an hour later freshly washed and visibly more relaxed. Even Quintin looked like he had enjoyed himself. Satisfied that they had made their way back safely, I retired for the evening.

  My mind woke me at dawn, a habit becoming less and less arduous as the months passed. I descended the narrow steps to find Quintin shoving furniture against the walls in the small common room. The house had no garden. We would have to practice indoors, and it was the largest available space.

  “We’ll wake everyone,” I protested.

  “You’re not falling out of practice.”

  It was obvious I wasn’t going to win the argument. As expected, the clatter of our sparring quickly brought a furious Lyra hobbling out of her room still in her nightgown. After a thorough dressing-down made it clear our practicing indoors was out of the question, we gave up for the day. “I’ll figure something out,” Quintin mumbled to me as I shot him my best told-you-so glance and took my leave.

  We spent the first day exploring the city that was to be our home for the next year. Our rented lodgings sat in a merchant class neighborhood, an area with simple but well-kept shops lining the streets, many with dwellings above. A few nearby points of entertainment included the bathhouse, a tavern, and a small outdoor theater.

  In the afternoon, we made our introductions at the university. A dour man in a blue robe looked over our letters of recommendation and asked us a few questions. Simple as that, we were admitted. As it turned out, the university accepted anyone who could pay the meager tuition. Our names were added to the rosters for a few standard lectures, and we were told to report to our first course three days hence. We had barely arrived in time for the semester to begin.