She nodded solemnly when I told her as much. Instead of learning the placement of every strand of the web, I learned where to go should I need help, who I could trust to hide me, signs to watch for, that marked safe-houses around the major cities. As it turned out, not all of it was her own network. The underworld of illicit actors had its own code, its own backbone. There was a level of camaraderie amongst thieves and spies that blurred the borders from one crew to another. It was slight and fragile, but it was there and could be relied upon in times of great need.
I feared the day I might have to depend on it, but that much, at least, was better to know.
Afternoons were spent with Aubrey and Augustus, largely to maintain appearances, though I never told either of them as much. In light of recent events, we began studying Persica and its strange religion. My mother had called the emperor ‘the divine ruler’. As it turned out, that was no exaggeration. They quite literally believed he was the physical embodiment of their god, Al’Rahim, on earth. He housed the god spirit, to be passed to his son at the time of his death.
Theirs was a strict and brutal faith, rooted in magic and sacrifice. The more we read about the Divine Origin, named so due to their core belief that their god was the root of all in existence, the more prohibitions we discovered. Among them, a sacred disdain for the act of love, unless performed for the sole purpose of procreation. In particular, they considered the ‘unclean congress’ between two men or two women especially abhorrent. That day’s lesson put Aubrey on edge. To me, all of their myriad rules seemed bizarre and nonsensical, but I let him rail nonetheless, pacing before the fire and very nearly spilling his wine as he gesticulated angrily.
It was the core virtue of sacrifice I found most disturbing. Not only were devotees expected to prostrate themselves daily before their god - or in his absence, a representation of Him - but also to seek out the faithless and bring them forth to be cleansed. This rounding-up of the tainted was considered a sacred charge, something to be celebrated. There were even specific instructions for the redemption of those brought before the priests. Reading them turned my stomach. Those who could not be saved in the flesh were purified by flame, their souls sent to Al’Rahim in the sky.
Above all, it was the emperor’s sacred duty to unite the world under his rule, bringing all the peoples of the earth into the light of Al’Rahim’s holy Truth: that He was the one true god, and all others were false deities.
We spent weeks reading various holy texts, accounts from bystanders in Rume and Makednos, studying drawings of the temples and idols and tools of redemption. By the end of it all, I felt truly ill. My mother was glad for it, though, and pressed me for summaries of what I’d learned each day. You must know your enemy, she said to me. She’d not had the time nor the access to Chamberlain libraries to do such extensive research. For once, I actually felt like I was contributing something to our cause, and it made the lessons with Aubrey more bearable.
As the summer solstice approached, I grew more and more agitated as each day passed and Quintin still did not return. It had been over two months since his departure, and he hadn’t even sent word. 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. I spared a thought for Selice, but only for a moment, as there were more pressing matters at hand.
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 silence, 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. “Are you ready?”
I took a bracing breath and nodded.
She glanced to Shera, whose face was as solemn as I’d ever seen it. “And you?”
“Yes, my lady. 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 several 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 their 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 showing our hand.
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. In the end, I needn’t have worried. They performed their parts brilliantly.
When the last guest had been escorted to the door, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief, and my mother demanded 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 rose from our posts in the common room.
Her emerald eyes scanned us. “I know you must have questions, and I regret that I cannot give you answers.” It is simply too dangerous. Her face said what she would not. “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 a cautious edge. “Tonight, I trusted each of you with enough knowledge to bring the King’s wrath 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 it proudly, his back straight. 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, she didn’t flinch or fidget. She held firm, her confidence a reassuring presence. “The less you know, the safer we all are,” she impressed calmly. He wasn’t mollified. “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 inte
nded to tell you.”
I looked around and saw resolve steeling the members of our unlikely party. It was enough.
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 watched them go, and I felt fear’s icy fingers in my chest.
“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.” Her gaze turned to 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. “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, 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 considered my bed a moment, but instead changed into my sparring gear and made my way back downstairs. 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. The sun was high in the sky before I felt sated in mind and body, my palms aching from clutching sword and dagger, my tunic clinging to my sweaty torso.
Whether it was a chill morning breeze or an echo of loneliness, I will never know. In the silence of the garden, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I caught my breath. I wiped my upper lip on my sleeve and turned, a glimmer of hope quickly extinguished. The doorway stood empty. I was alone.
Shera bustled about as I returned to my room. “I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” I greeted her. She smiled at me, laying out a day gown. A steaming bath waited in the next room. I peeled my sweat-soaked clothes off and tossed them aside, stepping gratefully into the tub. “You really should have slept,” 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. As I took it, she raised her brow at me. “You don’t think I fill this thing by myself every day, do you?”
I shrugged in apology. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She chuckled and picked up the ewer, dunking it into the tub to fill it. “Ellen and Poppy help most days. It’s easier, with the three of us.”
Still, it was hard work, and I felt quite badly about it. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
She placed a hand on my forehead, tipping it back to empty the ewer over my hair. “Don’t, miss. It is the luxury of your station. Besides, we see you in the garden every morning.”
I laughed, trying to hold still for her. “Yes, I doubt anyone wants to smell that for the rest of the day.”
Her voice shifted, her light-hearted lilt fading. “It isn’t that.” The empty ewer scraped on the floor as she set it down and picked up a scouring brush. “In some ways, we are glad to do it.” I could hear her struggling for the right words. “You place yourself as an equal to men. Not only in station, but in action as well. It lends us a sense of pride, of purpose. We see you in your arms and imagine ourselves thus.”
A thought crossed my mind. “I could teach you.”
I heard her smile. “You are kind to offer, miss, but I know my way around a knife, and that is enough for me.”
I thought to press but left well enough alone. I couldn’t honestly picture Poppy or Ellen in the garden running drills. Instead, I changed the topic as 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?” 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 couldn’t form the words. She smiled and 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 sat across from me in his plush armchair, fixing me with his solemn amber gaze. There was a time when he could pry anything from me with that look. Not anymore. The stakes were too high. “But to push me from your life is a hurt I cannot countenance.”
I shook my head. “I’m doing no such thing. You are my dearest friend in this 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.
I smiled bitterly, a lump in my throat. “Because I don’t trust myself with yours.”
His face fell. I reached out and pressed my palm to his cheek. My parents had been very clear. Anyone we involved, we must be willing to kill with our own hands should the need arise. Aubrey, I knew, I could not. He must have seen it in my face that there was a line I could not cross, that he would get nothing more out of me. I feared he would push me away in anger, in retribution, but that was not his way. He was better than that, better than me. Instead, he just nodded.
“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. “Keep me informed of anything you hear from
Cambria. Even the least notable gossip could be helpful.” His home province lay on the western border, along the coast of the White Sea.
It pacified my friend and infuriated my mother. She 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 jabbed a finger at the floor. “He knows we’re about something illicit enough to keep carefully hidden. He knows we don’t trust his father’s discretion. He knows we’re interested in keeping an eye on the outer provinces. 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. “We’ve been over this. If we are discovered, if his involvement is discovered, are you willing to take his life to protect the cause?”
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!” she roared at me.
The air between us fell silent. She never shouted at me. Ghosts swam in her eyes, the telltales of fear writ plainly upon her face. Turning away to collect herself, she ran a hand through her long 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.
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 seal. Heart racing in my chest, I tore into it like a starved animal, hands trembling as my eyes devoured the contents.
A Crown of Lilies Page 27
