A Crown of Lilies

by Melissa Ragland

  “You forged the King’s seal and sent false missives in his name?” Her voice was clear, emotionless, and unforgiving.

  “I did.”

  Her golden eyes flashed angrily. “And you conspired to assassinate my father, the King?”

  I couldn’t keep the tremble from my voice. “I did.”

  That set the assembled persons into a rumbling frenzy. Selice held up one hand and they fell silent once more. “And you did these things in the hopes of protecting your country?” Some of the edge had softened in her voice.

  “Its people, Majesty,” I clarified.

  The air was thick, ice locking my spine in place. Two dozen pairs of eyes stared at me, judging. The only pair I cared about was hers, the only judgment, hers.

  “And what did you lose in the pursuit of this hope?” she asked, gentler still.

  My breath left my lungs, their faces swimming in my mind, a flickering onslaught of memories both joyous and terrible. Chest aching, eyes burning, I replied in a hoarse whisper.

  “Everything, Your Majesty.”

  She nodded slowly, gaze still fixed on me. “We should all be such traitors as you.” In the corners of my vision, I could see the others exchanging hesitant glances. Her voice resumed its commanding edge. “Now take your place, Lady Lazerin. Do not make me ask a second time.”

  Elliot took my arm and herded me to the foot of the table. There I stood, meeting my queen’s gaze down the long corridor of faces. I heard the rattle of Quintin’s swords as he posted up behind my chair, a mirror of the Queen’s diligent captain behind hers. Selice sat, and the rest of us followed. The room exhaled collectively, the tension diffusing and conversations igniting as guests filled their plates. I caught both Reyus and Samson staring at me. The latter looked away quickly when I met his gaze. The former raised his glass and nodded solemnly.

  I sat in my father’s chair, wearing my mother’s gown, and felt a complete and utter fraud.

  Elliot and Maria proved to be charming company and helped me to enjoy the evening regardless. After solicitously filling a plate for me, the self-proclaimed steward chatted amicably about their own estate, which lay not even two full days’ ride south. Among his poetic descriptions, he mentioned a son, Patrick. I narrowed my eyes, confused. I’d not heard or seen any children about the house in the many weeks since our arrival.

  “Three, all boys,” he beamed proudly when I asked. “Two are men grown, now, of course. Our eldest, Martin, is minding the estate while we are away.” Maria reached out to take his hand affectionately. “Francis lives with his wife near the Istran border.”

  “Patrick was a bit of a surprise, though,” she finished with a chuckle. “I’d thought my child-bearing years long passed when he arrived.”

  “How old?” I couldn’t help but enjoy their company.

  “Just turned three this past fall.”

  “I don’t understand, where is he?”

  “We’ve kept him out of sight, given your infirmity and the Queen’s presence. We didn’t want him bothering anyone. He’s happy playing with his toys and his nurse.”

  It felt wrong, especially given Selice’s presence, to hide a child away. I could tell they meant well, but I was determined to set it to rights. “I’d have you bring him to join us, please,” I said firmly. “He and his nurse.” They exchanged a surprised glance, hesitating. I measured my tone. They had been nothing but kind to me. “I can assure you the Queen and I would both prefer it this way.”

  He was a charming boy, quiet and sweet and adored by his gray-haired nurse. Elliot dandled him on his lap and fed him bites from his own plate as Maria and I chatted. Selice’s golden eyes watched from afar, and I caught her smiling as the boy reached out to grab at Quintin’s sword hilts. He was much too far away, of course, still posted up behind my chair, but the steel gleamed in the candlelight, and children are ever drawn to things that shimmer.

  Even my dour companion couldn’t help but be charmed by the boy’s genial antics, a rare smile, full and genuine, softening the firm set of his jaw.

  “You should sit,” I told him. “Join us.” Elliot shifted his chair and called to a nearby servant to set another place.

  “Please, that’s not necessary,” Quintin protested. “I’m on duty.”

  “You don’t serve House Lazerin anymore, remember?” I teased dryly, two glasses of wine flushing my cheeks.

  He eyed me, unamused. “Someone should be on guard.”

  I nodded down the table to where Selice’s captain stood still as a statue, two other guards nearby. “I think they have things well in hand.” He didn’t budge. “My family has celebrated Yule with all members of our house since the days of my ancestors. Sit,” I insisted as an empty chair was placed. He did, reluctantly, and the lot of us passed the remainder of the meal in good spirits, talking casually about family and children.

  “I hear you yourself are soon to be married,” Maria beamed sagely at me, candlelight catching the small creases around her eyes. “You’ll love motherhood, there’s nothing quite so wonderful.”

  Adrian.

  “Someday, to be sure,” I replied politely, watching Patrick wrap both tiny hands around Quintin’s sword hilt and tug enthusiastically.

  “Maybe when you’re a bit older,” he murmured, prying the boy’s grasp loose and distracting him with a napkin puppet.

  After dinner, we flocked back into the great hall and I made a point to seek out Tommy in the crowd. He fidgeted in his borrowed black doublet.

  “This ain’t exactly familiar territory for me, lass,” he replied sourly when I asked.

  “You’re doing fine,” I reassured him, suppressing a smile as I noticed he’d even combed his hair for the occasion. “I’ve a mind to send that letter. Do you have any men I could pay to take it to Daria?”

  “I can think of three,” he grumbled.

  “How soon could they leave?”

  Tommy eyed me cautiously. “In the dead of winter? It’d be kinder to wait until the snows melt.”

  “I can’t,” I protested impatiently. “Come spring, Adrian will return to sea and my letter will miss him.”

  He nodded. “I’ll ask ‘em.”

  “Thank you.”

  I meandered through the crowd, meeting the few faces I didn’t recognize and chatting at length with those I did. I accepted repeated condolences with as much grace as I could muster, well-aware that I now stood as the head of my House. To my great relief, no one was brash enough to pry too deeply into my treason or my torture at the red priest’s hands, though not a few eyes glanced curiously at my short hair. Quintin remained at my side for the evening, keeping silent unless directly pressed. For the most part, he was a reassuring shadow, a bolstering presence, and I was grateful for it.

  The sound of metal on glass rang out through the din. Lord Reyus chimed his goblet with a teaspoon, standing at Selice’s left. The room fell silent, all eyes on her.

  “It is under the great burden of our current circumstances that we gather here tonight. Let none of us be mistaken. Persica would have us grovel before their emperor, like Rume, like Makednos, like all the others.” Her determined gaze swept us. “The High Priest would see the Old Ways scoured from this land, replaced with blood and flames and fear. We are here, each and every one of us, because we will die before we allow that to happen.” Her eyes settled on me. “We are here to commit ourselves to open rebellion.”

  “To open rebellion,” many voices repeated heartily, and we all drank.

  She continued. “Yule marks the longest night of the year, an oppressive darkness that threatens to consume the world.” Murmurs and nods rippled through the room, the shadow of our enemy hovering over us all. “But the dawn is coming, and with it, the return of the light.” Her voice softened and she raised her chin a fraction. “Stand with me. Let us reclaim what is ours.”

  We raised our glasses solemnly to the cause.

  When at last the night was called to a close, I was weak with exh
austion. I bid goodnight to the myriad guests, putting on a brave face until the last had retired. I looked at the stairs with regret. They appeared monumental in the face of my trembling legs, my aching feet. Quintin stepped up to my side, eyeing me with concern.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I rebuffed him firmly. I’d not be carried like some invalid to my bedroom. “I just need a moment.” I sank into a nearby chair with a sigh. As I rested, I played the evening’s interactions back through my mind, processing and evaluating.

  “Lady Lazerin,” Selice addressed me as she approached, radiant in a light amber gown, hair twisted into an elegant coif of braids and curls. I made to stand and curtsy, but she waved me off. Her captain waited at a discreet distance, and I took a moment to read him. Broad-shouldered and lean, he was a handsome young man, every bit as fair as Selice herself. His carriage was that of a soldier, though it lacked the weight of a man experienced in actual combat.

  He is young, give him time. My mother’s voice joined me in my observations. What else?

  His face was carefully schooled to neutrality, but his bright hazel eyes watched her with genuine affection. Whether it was that of a sibling or a lover, I’d not enough time to tell.

  “I am glad you could join us this evening,” she said, looking down at me in her usual formal demeanor.

  “It was a welcome invitation, Your Majesty,” I replied honestly.

  Silence stretched between us, the weight of the evening settling heavily. She had publicly restored my place as the head of my House, a position of which I felt wholly undeserving. It was not an official pardon, merely a stay of judgment before our assembled allies. Nevertheless, it warmed my heart, knowing it was what my parents had worked so hard toward all my life.

  “Thank you, my lady,” I finally whispered.

  “What on earth for?” she tilted her head at me, the question clearly disingenuous.

  I stared at my hands. “The last thing I expected from you was forgiveness.”

  “You are mistaken in thinking you have it,” she replied curtly. I winced. “Elivya.” My name on her lips brought my eyes back to hers. “I do not need to forgive to understand.” She left me with that thought, bidding us goodnight and disappearing toward her quarters.

  “She’s not what I expected,” Quintin remarked, staring after her down the hall.

  “She’s a girl, still, beneath all her bluster.” I exhaled and rubbed my face. “As am I.”

  “Both of you are well past your majority,” he pointed out.

  “Yes,” I muttered, peeking between my fingers. “She’s doing an admirable job of stepping into her father’s shoes.”

  There was a rustle as he turned to look at me. “And you’re not?” I didn’t respond. He offered me a hand and I stood with effort. “You represented your House with honor, tonight,” he said, fixing me with his pale eyes. “No one else in that room would have openly admitted to treason before their queen.”

  “She already knew.”

  “They didn’t.”

  “I feel a complete fraud.” I started to turn away in disgust, but he grabbed my chin and forced me to face him.

  “You belong in that chair,” he said firmly.

  I am the heir of Lazerin, and you cannot break me. I’d said the words a hundred times, in the damp dungeons of Litheria. Chanted, muttered, screamed, and sobbed, they were the thread that I’d clung to in my deepest darkness.

  He narrowed his eyes as my face darkened, unguarded in my exhaustion. “What?”

  I shook my head and he released me. “Nothing. Go to bed, Quintin. It’s late.”

  “Should I send someone?”

  “No, I’ll manage.”

  I hauled my way stubbornly up the stairs. He waited until I’d reached the top to take his leave. I heard his boot steps fading into the house as I shut my door and struggled into a night shift and into bed.

  The next day, after another frustrating morning forcing my body through a single cycle of one-handed drills, Tommy paid me a visit.

  “One of the lads has volunteered to take your letter to Daria,” he informed me.

  Relieved, I hurried across the room to my small writing desk and pulled a sealed missive from the drawer. Pressing it into his hand, I thanked him and called downstairs for Amita. She appeared momentarily at the base of the steps.

  “Have we any coin?” I asked her.

  She looked confused. “Well yes, of course, my lady.”

  I hesitated. “Could I have some of it?” I felt utterly ridiculous, not knowing how to go about any of this business of running an estate.

  “How much would you need, my lady?” I wasn’t sure. I needed a few silvers for the courier, but I felt sure I’d need more, especially when Tommy’s three lads came to claim their boon. “Perhaps I should fetch Lord Elliot?” she suggested, reading my uncertainty.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I bid Tommy to return later and met Elliot and Maria in the study. They made it clear that, of course, all the finances of the estate were at my disposal. With Amita in attendance as chamberlain, a full accounting was provided to me, including the current state of our herds and breeding contracts. By the end of it, I felt quite a bit more confident in my place as the Lady of Lazerin.

  The funds acquired, I passed a dozen silver into Tommy’s keeping with strict instructions that his lad be given a good horse and told to spend his nights at reputable inns along the way. Take no risks, and report back with a letter if you can. My own was unsigned, the seal a common breeder’s mark used widely in Laezon and elsewhere. He rode out the next morning. I watched him go, my heart in my throat.

  Adrian.

  I missed him desperately.

  The next month was a blur of routine, struggling through drills in the morning. My afternoons included a variety of diversions, including playing with Patrick, reading, and managing my family’s estate. Amita proved invaluable, as neither Elliot nor Maria had any head for horses and hadn’t been managing the estate for long before my arrival. I’d learned much of the particulars in my years at my mother’s knee, but never put them to practice. There is a vast chasm between the theory of a thing and the doing of it. Amita helped guide me across that gap.

  Two weeks after our Yule celebration, she met me in the study with a big smile on her face. I tilted my head at her inquiringly. “Leanne’s had her baby,” she beamed. “A boy. Oh, you should’ve seen it, my lady. She was fearless through the whole ordeal.” Sadness crept into her eyes. “My James would’ve been so proud.”

  A pang of sorrow tinged with jealousy hit me, but I buried it deep and forced a good face. “They’re both well? Has a physician seen them?”

  “Healthy and hale, by all accounts.” Her smile returned. “A full head of auburn hair, too, if you can believe it.”

  “Has he been named?”

  Her smile faltered a bit. “Seth. Leanne said it’s what James would’ve wanted.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, congratulated her, and insisted she take the remainder of the day off to be with her new grandson.

  Alone in the study, I sat and stared at the sapphire ring on its chain. I stamped out my doubts, clinging to the memory of Adrian’s touch, his kiss, the eagerness in his eyes when he asked me to marry him. We’d have our own passel of ballistae-loading sea children in time. For now, it was better to be happy for my friend, even if he couldn’t be there to see it.

  A week after that, the courier returned. Shouts from the courtyard announced his arrival, and I rushed out the front door to greet him. He looked tired and road-weary, but uninjured. It was Matt, one of the three to whom I still owed a boon.

  “Did you see him?” I pressed. “Did you find Adrian?” He hopped lightly down out of the saddle and approached me. “Did he give you a letter?”

  Matt shook his head. “He wasn’t there, miss. I went to the manor in Petrion, asked at the docks, even checked with the local guilds. Those I met said he’d gone home for the winter, so I ro
de to the Van Dryn estate. Lord Yuri said he wasn’t there either, but would pass the letter to him when he could.” My heart sank. “I’m sorry, miss. I tried my best, truly.”

  “I know. Thank you, Matt.” I gripped his shoulder reassuringly. “Come in and get warm.” I pushed him off toward the house, calling to Amita to see to a hot bath and some supper for him. As I paced the house in thought, I passed one of the salons we’d rarely used except for occasional company. Inside, I heard raised voices. A few, I could make out. Reyus, Selice, Samson, and several others were locked in a heated debate. Just as I thought to linger and press my ear to the door, the footsteps of servants approached and I was forced to continue on my way. The downside to a full house: never enough privacy to spy.

  Nearly a month after the feast, the physician returned to examine the remnants of my injuries. My ribs had finally healed in full, the last of the stubborn bruising gone. He prodded my feet, grumbling at me about pushing too hard, but the wounds had fully closed. Two pink, coin-sized circles of scarred flesh remained.

  His primary attentions focused on my left hand, which he deemed ready to be removed from the splint. I held my breath as he unwrapped the bandages and set the wooden braces aside. Each finger had its own set of splints that then had to be carefully unwound. The skin beneath itched and stank, but his practiced countenance remained unfazed. Freed from its bindings, my forearm was atrophied and pale. The fingers looked straight enough, but I was afraid to try and move them.

  “You are fortunate. The surgeon who set the bones did excellent work.” The doctor prodded gently at each small segment. I had been blessedly unconscious at the time, but I’d been told it was a tedious and time-consuming endeavor. He rotated my arm so my palm faced up. “Make a fist.”

  I tried. My fingers twitched, barely curling from their resting position, no matter how much I struggled. After several attempts, he called an end to it.