A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  I considered him. There was a hint of great loss behind his sharp stares and edged tone. He had loved his sister very much, and her death haunted him as much as it did Amenon. He was afraid for what remained of his family. I knew I should offer confident reassurances that if we stood together, our plan would doubtlessly succeed, that there was no need to fear. It would have been a lie. This man, who bore as many scars as my own father from some of the same battles, deserved truth.

  “High stakes require high risk, my lord. We will root out the informant. Stay the course.”

  He nodded his thanks and I took my leave. Valor waited in the courtyard, minded by an annoyed house guard. Swinging up into the saddle, we started toward home.

  I heard the clamor a few streets away. Straining my ears, I could make out shouting and the clatter of metal. Swords. I dug my heels into Valor’s flanks and we raced the last few blocks. We turned the final corner and my heart lurched in my chest.

  Fire. I could feel the heat of it from the street. Women’s screams and the shouts of men echoed into the night. A dozen soldiers in plate armor swarmed the courtyard, their white uniforms cast yellow in the light of the flames. I spotted Gabe and Seth making a stand at the doorway. They must have been woken in the night, as neither of them wore boots or any armor. I watched from a distance as they were cut down on the steps.

  Several of the men rushed into the house, ignoring the growing blaze. Those who remained began to circle the perimeter, disappearing along the sides of the house. One lingered at the front, heading for the barn with a torch in hand. A brave stable boy rushed him with a shoe hammer and was quickly dispatched. I spurred Valor into motion, racing down the street and through the gate. Drawing my sword, I rode him down, pouring my rage into one arcing swing that caught the soldier in the face as he turned toward me. The impact jarred my arm, and I barely held on to my blade. Reining my mount to a skidding stop, I leapt from the saddle to finish the job, but he was already dead, face cleaved in two. My heart raced as I glanced over his uniform, white like the King’s Guard, but not. Overtop the golden star of Adulil, a black hand had been painted on his breastplate, a sloppy smear of red in the middle of the palm.

  I swore, panic and anger feeding fire into my veins. The stable still stood untouched by flame, so I hid Valor without tying him and slipped through the darkness toward the house. Racing around the side toward the kitchen, I hid in the bushes along the stone wall as I drew near three of the soldiers, the torches in their hands blinding them to anything outside their ring of light. I slipped past unnoticed and in through the servants’ entrance.

  There was blood everywhere. Greta and her two kitchen boys lay dead on the floor, eyes open wide. I swallowed a bereaved whimper and stepped carefully over their bodies to make my way into the main house. Screams sounded from somewhere deep within, and I ducked into the long shadows of a doorway as two more soldiers rattled by, torches glowing. The better part of the upstairs was already engulfed in flames. The heat of it scorched my face and made my eyes water. In the common room, I spotted Preston’s body lying face down on the rug, two Origin soldiers slumped motionless on the floor nearby. He’d managed to don his armor, for all the good it had done him.

  I had to find my parents. When the soldiers passed, I gathered my courage to press further inward, but a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I whirled, drawing my dagger as I turned toward my attacker. James’ face, strained and sweaty, hovered behind me. He threw up one hand, stumbling back away from my blade, his other hand clutching his stomach.

  “James,” I breathed, taking in the sight of him. Blood seeped from beneath his hand, his tunic drenched with it. His scabbard was empty.

  “We must go!” he whispered earnestly.

  “My parents-” I began to turn back toward the main hall. His hand snatched my arm hard enough to hurt and held on with an iron grip.

  “There are too many. They’ll catch you. We have to go now!”

  I tried and failed to pull away, panic raising my voice unwittingly. “I can’t just leave them!” A pair of male voices sounded nearby, and the rattle of armor drew closer. James begged me with his eyes. He was pale, weak. One soldier, I might be able to catch off-guard and kill, but there were at least two heading our way and my friend was all but useless in his state. More likely than not, I would be captured and the details of our plans would be drawn from me. All that we had worked toward would be lost.

  We slipped back through the servants’ entrance and toward the stables. The courtyard was being watched, but the side gate stood unguarded. I left James in the bushes near it and slunk through the shadows back to the stable. My first kill had been spotted, and the soldiers were searching for the culprit. I couldn’t risk taking the time to saddle another horse. I grabbed Valor’s reins and led him out a back entrance in the unwatched paddock. The wooden gate creaked as I opened it, the sound as loud as thunder to my ears. I was sure I’d be discovered, but no one came.

  James stood from the shadows as I approached. It took every ounce of my strength and his to get him into the saddle, and we slipped out the side gate and into the street. Behind us, flames licked the sky as the stable was set afire. The screaming of the horses wrenched at my heart, but it was too late. There was nothing left to do but run. Once we’d rounded a corner out of sight of the manor, I climbed carefully up behind him. Valor sidled unhappily but obeyed when I put my heels to him.

  I don’t remember much of the flight to the Greyshor. I was numb with terror, drowning myself in narrow focus to keep the paralyzing fear at bay. Left turn here. Three streets down. Now right. Don’t stop. Keep going.

  When we reached the hidden livery stable, the boy looked us over nervously as I slid down off Valor’s rump and approached him.

  “Let us in,” I demanded.

  His eyes took in my haggard appearance and James’ desperate state, voice timid and unsure. “I can’t if you bring trouble. I’m not supposed to if there’s trouble.”

  Grabbing his small throat in one hand, I squeezed and shook him. “You open this door and go fetch Tommy before I throttle you, boy.” He scrambled to obey. James ducked over Valor’s neck as I led him into the dark warehouse. A lad came to take him from me and stopped short upon closer look. The young boy I’d threatened raced past him toward the small office. I helped my bloodied friend down from the saddle with difficulty. Pulling one arm over my shoulders, I endeavored to take some of his weight.

  “The fuck is going on?” Tommy’s harsh voice snarled as his quick steps approached. Hard eyes appraised our grim state. He gestured to the young man who was meant to accept my mount and instead stood gaping at us. “Help her,” he barked irritably. A shout into the darkness brought four more young men of varying ages to our aid. Two of them took James from me. One led Valor off to the pens. Tommy conversed with the other two quietly. Whatever he said to them, they nodded their obedience and raced off into the night. Then he turned his attention to me.

  I couldn’t move. My feet were filled with iron, anchoring me where I stood. Light-headed, I met his gaze. “I have to go back.” My voice cracked, reality rushing in like an unstoppable wave. Fear, grief, despair, uncertainty, anger, all crashed down on me at once. “I have to go back,” I repeated hollowly. My voice sounded far away.

  Tommy grabbed my arm. “Ye need to lay low, lass. Ain’t nothin’ ye can do for ‘em now, anyway.”

  “I have to go back.” Tears burned my eyes.

  He shook me, genuine concern flickering across his face. “They all knew to meet here, should things go bad, yeah?” he pressed reasonably. I nodded, barely. “So we stay put, lay low, an’ wait.” When I didn’t respond, he pulled on my arm. “Come on.” I went.

  I’d never noticed the back entrance to the Greyshor, a staircase off the alley that led up to the row of rooms that were regularly let out. Tommy and his boys dragged us both up the stairs and deposited us in one such room. James, they lowered carefully onto the bed, and I heard Tommy tell on
e of the young men to fetch a surgeon. The other stayed to stand guard in the hall. I sat on the bed beside my wounded friend, trembling.

  “Elivya,” James murmured through gritted teeth. I turned toward him, a ghost in my own skin. He was afraid. I could see it in his eyes. He needed me. I swallowed my despair, forcing it down deep, and focused on my oldest friend. One of the lads fetched me a basin of water and a clean cloth from downstairs. I peeled the bloody tunic back and caught my breath at the sight of his ravaged abdomen. Faking a reassuring smile for him, I went to work cleaning his wound.

  To his credit, Tommy stayed with us for the better part of an hour until his runner reappeared with a tired-looking medic in tow. James hissed through his teeth as we lifted his arms to remove his tunic. The wound still seeped blood, surrounded by sticky clots. The surgeon’s face was solemn as he examined the damage, fingers prodding around the perimeter, pressing on the unmarred parts of the belly and causing his patient to unleash a stream of curses. From his bag, he drew a bottle of dark liquid and administered a careful dose before cleaning and bandaging the wound.

  The doctor stood, retreating to the doorway with us. “The blade has pierced the bowels,” he told us quietly. “There is nothing I can do for him.”

  My heart sank, the last flickers of my desperate hope extinguished by his solemn diagnosis. “There must be a way,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

  His wizened face regarded me with compassion. “I am sorry, my dear. I’ll leave you something to make him as comfortable as possible. We must all return to the Mother one day. His time is near.” Tommy pressed a coin into the man’s hand and sent him away. I looked over at James, his eyes closed in his exhaustion.

  My friend… my friend was going to die. He was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it. He would die, and it was my fault. All of it, my fault. A gruff voice cut through the torrent of misery coalescing in my mind.

  “A word, lass.” Tommy pulled me out into the hall and closed the door behind us, fixing me with a stoic gaze. “Ye don’t live as long as I have in Dockside without watchin’ a few people die.” He jutted his chin at the closed door. “The way he’s headed is not quick or easy, and that valerian concoction will only help for so long. If ye care for him at all, you’ll end it for him.” His words turned my stomach, driving home the bitter realization that if I’d just let him come with me like he’d asked, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. My mind could hear the truth in Tommy’s voice, but my heart refused outright. “Lass...” he pressed gently.

  I dashed tears from my cheeks and nodded vigorously, avoiding his eyes. Gathering myself, I took a breath and slipped back into the room alone. I stared at James across the dark space. He slept, his red-brown hair plastered to his sweaty brow. Crossing the floor quietly, I sank down onto the mattress beside him. He murmured as I took his hand into my lap. With no one to witness, I wept.

  The first lights of dawn began to peek over the rooftops outside the dingy window. No one had come. I stood stiffly, careful not to disturb him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I promise, I’ll be back.”

  One of the lads lingered outside the door and made to stop me as I slipped from the room. “Tommy said you shouldn’t leave, miss.”

  I pressed one finger to my lips and his protests fell silent. “Just keep an eye on him. I’ll be back soon,” I murmured quietly.

  Valor stirred in the paddock. A few of the boys glanced my way but made no move to stop me as I saddled him. We slipped from the warehouse without issue and I dug in my heels, tearing through the cobblestone streets, a streak of gray in the early morning light.

  The silence of it struck me first. Where the night had been filled with chaos, now there was only quiet. I stood at the gates, my mount forgotten, and gazed upon the ruins of my life.

  The stone husk smoldered and smoked, charred walls all that remained standing. The stable was an ashen heap. In my mind, I could still hear the horses screaming. My feet carried me unwitting toward the wreckage. Just beyond the threshold, the bodies of Seth and Gabe lay charred and unrecognizable. The soldiers must have dragged them into the house before they left.

  As I picked my way slowly through the shell of my home, I spotted a few recognizable remnants among the ashes. Here, a piece of an armoire from my room. There, a teapot from the salon. The upper level had collapsed upon the lower, leaving a mountain of debris around the perimeter walls. All around me, heat radiated from the cinders, overpowering winter’s biting chill to draw sweat from my brow. I strained my ears, listening for any signs of life. I dared not call out, but even if I’d tried, I don’t know that my mouth could have formed the words. Every inch of me hurt.

  Then I reached the garden.

  The scorched grass cushioned my knees as I fell, the air snatched from my lungs. Around me, plants smoldered. The marble fountain lay still and silent.

  Before me, in the place where I’d found peace and redemption and self-worth, they had driven a post into the ground. There, in the heart of my family’s home, they had set a pyre. Upon it, three figures remained, bound together and slumped among the embers, the last pieces of my shattered heart.

  I was lying curled up amid the ashes at their blackened feet when Tommy found me. I barely noticed his presence. He knelt down beside my empty shell, placing one hand on my shoulder.

  “Come on, lass,” he murmured gently.

  I didn’t respond, didn’t move. I wasn’t there. None of it was real.

  He whistled softly and a few pairs of rough hands lifted me to my feet. I don’t remember if they carried me or if I walked out of that smoldering graveyard. I do remember Tommy’s arms holding me in the saddle as his brown mare ambled along the cobblestones. I remember the creak of the hinges as the door swung open to admit us. I remember the empty room, the cot rushing up to accept the husk of what was once me, Tommy’s shadow settling into a chair nearby, head in his hands.

  To say I wept… I would laugh if the bitterness of it wouldn’t consume me.

  I surrendered to complete and utter despair. There is no better way to explain such a chasm of unfathomable loss. I threw myself willingly into the jaws of madness and hoped never to reemerge. Anything to make the pain stop.

  To my dismay, Tommy refused to leave me there. Oh, he left me alone, to be sure. He was never very comfortable with emotion. Better to bottle it up and tuck it away, but my bottle was full, overflowing, and the grief was drowning me. He returned to my room as the sun was setting. I lay on my side, back to the door, staring at nothing in particular as I heard him settle into the rickety chair behind me.

  “I know ye are grievin’,” he began carefully, his voice hoarse. “But the valerian isn’t helpin’ much anymore.” A long hesitation followed.

  James.

  “If ye stay here, lost inside yer head, and he dies alone, in pain...” I heard him rub his face. “You’ll never forgive yourself, lass.”

  He waited as his words pierced the fog of misery that filled my mind.

  They’re all dead. Everyone I love is gone.

  Not everyone, a small voice countered in my head. He needs you.

  My hand was numb from clutching the vial strung around my neck. I’d spent the day searching for a reason not to open it and down the contents.

  Courage. My mother’s voice echoed in my head.

  James lay awake on the bed when we entered, his face twisted in pain, skin pallid and soaked with sweat. Tommy hovered by the door as I crossed the small room and sat beside him. He squeezed my hand when I took it, forcing a smile for me that didn’t quite reach his brown eyes.

  “Hell of a way to go, huh?” he forced a laugh, voice tight with pain.

  I nodded, my shattered heart aching. “I could make it easier.” I drew the vial from beneath my tunic.

  I didn’t need to tell him what it was. His face fell, brows knitting, and shook his head vigorously. “No.”

  “Let me help you,” I pressed, my voice cracking.

  Even
in his agony, James only ever thought of others. “If they catch you-”

  “They won’t,” I said firmly. “Besides, I can always make another vial.”

  He laughed humorlessly, wincing. “All that training and you’re still a terrible liar.”

  “Please,” I begged. “Just take it.”

  His eyes met mine. “I won’t let you suffer because of me.”

  “Please,” I forced through clenched teeth.

  He took a ragged breath, resolved. “No.”

  I stood angrily and turned away from him, cursing his stubbornness. Tommy caught my eye and fingered his dagger. I shook my head. Mustering the last vestiges of my calm, I returned to my seat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in mine.

  “You remember the wolf hunt?” he asked quietly after a long moment.

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  He grinned. “Your father was so proud to bring you along.”

  That nearly undid me, his face swimming in my mind, forest green eyes watching me from his saddle. My chin trembled and I swallowed hard. “I nearly froze to death trying to prove…” I shook my head. “Something.” What that something was, I could no longer remember.

  “When we finally tracked them down, and you saw them up close, you hesitated.”

  “They were too beautiful to kill.” I remembered the tremor in my hand as I drew.

  “But you took the shot anyway,” he said pointedly. I met his gaze. “That is who you are. You have that strength in you, to do whatever is necessary.”

  My eyes fell to my lap, my fragile composure faltering. “There is nothing left to do. We failed. Everyone is gone.” They were childish words, and I regretted them the moment they slipped from my lips. I was supposed to be strong for him, not wallow in my grief. Hot tears dropped into my lap.

  He squeezed my hand again. “You are still alive.”

  A long silence stretched between us. I wiped my face determinedly and recovered enough to face him. “Do you have a message for Leanne? And your parents?”

  His face fell as he considered the fact that he’d never meet his child. “That I love them very much,” he finally said quietly. “And that I’ll be waiting for them on the far shore.”