Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Read online

  TRAITOR

  A Crown of Lilies:

  Book One

  Melissa Ragland

  Copyright © 2020 Melissa Ragland

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781089001874

  Cover by Agata Broncel

  DEDICATION

  For my mother, who always believed this story was

  worth telling, and I, capable of telling it.

  For all the writers whose heroines inspired me throughout my life.

  For you, the reader, for giving Elivya a chance to inspire yours.

  Thank you.

  THE HOUSE OF ADULIL

  Amenon ben Adulil

  King of Alesia, lord of the province of Aduline

  Cerya Halkryn no Adulil

  First wife of King Amenon (deceased)

  Selice fen Adulil

  Daughter of Amenon and Cerya

  THE HOUSE OF CHAMBERLAIN

  Augustus ben Chamberlain

  Lord of the province of Cambria, the King’s Poet

  Lidya Agreil no Chamberlain

  Wife of Augustus (deceased)

  Aubrey ben Chamberlain

  Son of Augustus and Lidya

  Eliza Chamberlain no Agreil

  Younger sister of Augustus

  Claire fen Agreil

  Daughter of Eliza

  LESSER HOUSES OF CHAMBERLAIN

  House Halkryn

  Lords of the province of Haelark

  House Agreil

  Lords of the province of Agen

  House Fumandrel

  Lords of the province of Fumel

  THE HOUSE OF ORISTEI

  Reyus ben Oristei

  Lord of the province of Ostris

  Amelie Evitra no Oristei

  Wife of Reyus

  Ulrich and Feran ben Oristei

  Sons of Reyus and Amelie

  Rishel fen Oristei

  Younger sister of Reyus

  House Ulitri

  Lords of the province of Ulta

  House Evitra

  Lords of the province of Vitri

  House Istaris

  Lords of the province of Istra

  House Ardontus

  Lords of the province of Arradon

  Miko ben Ardontus

  Lord of Arradon

  Cheza Evitra no Ardontus

  Wife of Miko

  Ero ben Ardontus

  Son of Miko and Cheza

  Ila fen Ardontus

  Daughter of Miko and Cheza

  THE HOUSE OF CAERUS

  Ignatus ben Caerus

  Lord of the province of Caelin, the Royal Physician

  Lynn Istaris no Caerus

  Wife of Ignatus

  Mateo ben Caerus

  Son of Ignatus and Lynn

  Serena fen Caerus

  Daughter of Ignatus and Lynn

  LESSER HOUSES OF CAERUS

  House Briad

  Lords of the province of Briare

  House Guillar

  Lords of the province of Guilerso

  House Therus

  Lords of the province of Theria

  Ian ben Therus

  Lord of Theria

  Nicole Syran no Therus

  Wife of Ian

  Titus and Brendon ben Therus

  Sons of Ian and Nicole

  Leon ben Therus

  Youngest son of Ian and Nicole

  THE HOUSE OF TUVRE

  Nicholas ben Tuvre

  Lord of the province of Tuvria

  Lisbet Euzoni no Tuvre

  Wife of Nicholas

  Luke, Wyatt, and Atticus

  Sons of Nicholas and Lisbet

  LESSER HOUSES OF TUVRE

  House Euzoni

  Lords of the province of Euzros

  House Saviren

  Lords of the province of Savern

  House Freyjin

  Stewards of the province of Frii, matrilineal and militaristic society with no noble family

  General Brenna

  Leader of the Freyjan army

  Caius ben Saviren

  Lord of Savern (deceased)

  Fiona Ulitri no Saviren

  Wife of Caius

  Ewan ben Saviren

  Son of Caius and Fiona, Lord of Savern

  THE HOUSE OF VAN DRYN

  Yuri Van Dryn

  Lord of the province of Daria

  Tasha Guillar no Van Dryn

  Wife of Yuri

  Adrian Van Dryn

  Son and heir of Yuri and Tasha, commander of the Darian merchant fleet

  Natalia Van Dryn no Vekar

  Daughter of Yuri and Tasha

  Oliver ben Vekar

  Husband of Natalia

  Alec Van Dryn

  Younger son of Yuri and Tasha

  Sara Syran no Van Dryn

  Wife of Alec

  LESSER HOUSES OF VAN DRYN

  House Daekrix

  Lords of the province of Dax

  House Syran

  Lords of the province of Syraci

  House Vekar

  Lords of the province of Varr

  THE HOUSE OF LAZERIN

  Damien ben Lazerin

  Lord of the province of Laezon

  Nefira fen Lazerin

  Wife of Damien

  Elivya fen Lazerin

  Daughter of Damien and Nefira

  Elliot ben Lazerin

  Cousin to Damien

  Maria Montre no Lazerin

  Wife of Elliot

  Martin, Francis, and Patrick

  Sons of Elliot and Maria

  HOUSEHOLD

  Greta and Emmett

  Retainers of the Litheria manor

  Preston, Gabe, and Quintin

  Armsmen of the Litheria manor

  Poppy and Ellen

  Maidservants at the Litheria manor

  Shera

  Handmaiden to Elivya

  Samson

  Commander of the Lazerin guard

  Briggs and Rowan

  Captains of the Laezon fort

  Stephan

  Stablemaster of Laezon estate

  Amita

  Chamberlain of Laezon estate, wife of Stephan

  Seth, James, and Erik

  Sons of Stephan and Amita

  LESSER HOUSES OF LAZERIN

  House Eradine

  Lords of the province of Erade

  House Estentis

  Lords of the province of Estia

  House Montre

  Lords of the province of Montar

  House Kortra

  Lords of the province of Korent

  FROM THE BOOK OF DAYS

  As we came upon the sea, the ferrymen waiting, He turned to me and smiled in that way He always did, as though He’d not seen me in ages.

  “Here we part, my good Chamberlain,” He mused in His benevolent tone, the one I’d spent years following across the
world. I pressed Him once more to allow me to accompany Him, but again, He refused with impossible grace. “Nay, my friend, the far shore waits for me and yonder brothers alone.”

  With eyes closed, he drew the salt air deep into his lungs, that always-present smile widening, and when those gilded lids reopened, the sun itself shone from them.

  “This land is born anew. You must be here to guide it. Others will aid you, should you retrace our steps and beyond. Where you meet them, a Great Oak will grow, and you shall know the future of this land by them.”

  Daunted by the task set to me, I made to protest, but knew in my heart I could never deny Him. As if He could see the uncertainty painted across my soul, His warm hands settled on my shoulders, the comfort of that most-beloved touch assuaging even my deepest doubts.

  “A stride for a stride, brother. Begin where you stand.”

  With one final kiss, He left these shores, a riot of glittering sunlight against the azure froth of the Sea. I watched Him fade on the horizon in the keeping of the brothers Van Dryn and when at last I could not see his golden gleam with my eyes, I turned, bereft, to the teeming wharf and our patient mounts. They shuffled their hooves, dark eyes contemplating, and I knew where I must begin.

  As promised, impossibly, the immense oaks stood proud and tall as I retraced our winding path across the land. Despite their brief existence, they towered above any tree I had ever seen, vast canopies stretching their labyrinthine fingers toward the sky. The dumbfounded faces of their keepers were familiar to me, pillars of kindness and generosity among the long years of our journey.

  Gentle Caerus, whose medicaments drove away the fever that had threatened to claim me. To this day, I can still feel Adulil’s hand atop mine, concern creasing that beautiful face.

  Proud Lazerin, who pulled his own plow so that we might take their horses. His sons and daughters had wandered the forests with Adulil for weeks, rapt in his teachings.

  Cheerful Oristei, whose lyre played us to sleep many a night, whose singular voice had brought joy like no other to my earth-blessed companion.

  Enigmatic Van Dryn, who sacrificed two of their sons to ferry Him to the far shore. They, surely, gave more than any other.

  Solemn Tuvre, whose sword saved us in the streets of the far country. Adulil had fallen to His knees and wept beside the madman’s body, a silent manifestation of His Mother’s love for all Her children, even those with darkness in their hearts.

  Beyond the place where I had first come upon Him, I followed the lingering echoes of His presence to the crofter’s door. Before the humble home, a towering Oak stretched toward the sky above, vast fields of wheat standing testament to the farmer’s diligent tending and that of his only daughter. As we spoke, she settled a young boy on her lap and all at once, hope flooded the emptiness I’d carried since the days of the wharf. Beneath golden curls, the child had His eyes, sunlight and spun gold piercing my lonely heart.

  When at last I returned home, His final gift waited quietly for me. I wept to see it, branches laden with the golden leaves of autumn as it swayed patiently before mine own doorstep.

  Seven oaks, seven families.

  This land is born anew.

  Prologue

  Traitor. That is what they call me, still, in quiet circles and hushed conversations. There is little room for truth in the minds of ordinary men. I am what they say, of course, a woman condemned to hang for offenses against the Crown, but the crimes of which I am guilty are not the story entire.

  I would have left well enough alone, were it merely my reputation that hung in the balance. Let them think what they like. I am too tired, now, to care. But it is not my name alone they whisper at Court, and I would see the wagging tongues of gossip stilled in the face of the honest truth.

  In the Book of Days, the Chamberlain writes of Adulil’s unwavering love of all people, no matter their crimes. He taught us that His Mother – our Mother – the earth and trees and sky and rivers, made us as we are: compassion and jealousy, generosity and malice, hope and fear. Whatever we are, we are Hers and are loved. Life is the great balance, and it takes all kinds to level the scales. I hope that is true. I hope She can forgive me. I was just trying to do what I thought was right.

  Like any child, I was raised on stories of triumph and heroism, from grand epics of champions long dead to the firsthand accounts of my father’s battle-ridden youth. I soaked in every detail with wide-eyed fascination and imagined myself similarly exalted for some extraordinary deed or another. Though the immortalization of my own name never eclipsed my duty to my House, I would be lying if I were to claim fame and glory never appealed to me. They are the kindling fire in the heart of every hot-blooded youth, and I was surely that, noble born and ever struggling to make up for the irreparable misfortune of my gender.

  If that smacks of bitterness, it is for good reason.

  A male heir is a formidable creature, expected to carve his name on the marble halls of the Court while remaining decorous and obedient. His is a delicate balance of strength and loyalty, posturing and propriety. An eldest son makes his mark on society, a paragon of confidence in both martial skill and inherent purpose, all the while safeguarding and elevating his House.

  A female heir is to be none of those things. Rare though we may be, sole offspring of the gentler sex are often kept close to home and quietly married off at the earliest opportunity. Not me, though. I would not be gentle. I would not be quiet. Why should a boy be granted what was rightfully mine, while I was relegated to discreet dinner parties and sold off like a brood mare? My parents, Mother keep them, never intended to raise me as such. I enjoyed far greater freedom than any other daughter of the noble Houses, heir or not.

  Still, even their forbearance had limits.

  At the age of nine, I caught my first glimpse of the Lazerin cavalry. Like a midsummer storm, they thundered across the training fields atop their mounts, arrows flying and swords flashing in the sun. Heart racing, eyes wide, my small hands gripped the pommel of my father’s saddle in rapture, the man himself towering at my back. That sight burned itself into the deepest parts of me like a beacon. Here – here lay the consummate strength of all that it was to be a man, all that I needed to become to erase that disappointment from my father’s eyes. I am a Lazerin. My earliest memories are from atop a horse, but this was something else entirely. Something a woman was not meant to have.

  But I wanted it. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in my short, sheltered life.

  That night, I snuck out of the manor, crept into the stables, and stole my father’s horse. Perhaps I just needed the right mount, I thought, and my small dun pony was no warhorse. Midnight was surely that, an immense black destrier well-suited to bear my father’s massive frame. He snorted with curiosity as I climbed a teetering stack of crates to haul myself atop his broad back, those feathered white socks seeming a very long way down from where I sat. Shoving my fear down deep, I buried my hands in his mane, gave him a hearty kick of my heels, and held on for dear life.

  It didn’t take long for the night patrol to spot us. I’d like to say we gave them a good run, but I would be lying. I might be a Lazerin, but I was still only a child with median riding skills at best. Needless to say, my father was furious. The following morning, my back learned the stinging kiss of a reed switch, one of many that hung in the stable for lunging yearlings; a gentle punishment, as whippings go, but it hurt my pride far more than it hurt my body. Each snap, each wince, shoved my spirit back down toward the quiet, obedient mold that was meant to be my place in the world.