Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Read online

  “So hunting pirates isn’t for everyone, then?” I joked.

  He graced me with a wry smile. “It’s a dangerous life. Men settle down, start a family. They have people who rely on them to stay alive. It’s easier to do that on the river. And more profitable, if you know where to look.”

  Subdued, I eyed him curiously. “And you? Why aren’t you afraid?”

  He laughed. “You give me too much credit, miss! I am certainly not without fear.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “Because it is my duty. Because it’s been the dominion of my family since Adulil walked the earth.”

  “And because you have no family to leave bereft.”

  “Even then, my charge doesn’t end. Alec is destined for the North Sea, to take my grandfather’s place as Royal Admiral of the King’s Navy.” He flashed me a rueful smile over the rim of his tankard. “That leaves the southern coast to me.”

  I fell silent, considering the weight of that burden. It humbled my own. Surely, he carried it well, but to be bound in perpetuity to one life, and a dangerous one at that….

  The decisive thunk of his mug hitting the table interrupted my thoughts. He was already on his feet, one hand extended to me in offer, storm eyes bright with mirth.

  “Come,” he urged. “Dance with me.”

  I needed to be taught, as the racing reel featured an unfamiliar structure and much energy. All of my formal lessons amounted to naught in this company, and I will admit I felt a bit ridiculous. Natalia generously obliged to show me the rudiments before passing me along to be spun mercilessly around the room from partner to partner. Men and women alike laughed and clapped as the tune shifted to one that was apparently intended for set partners, though with nearly as much vigor as the last. Adrian claimed me again, and I was glad to have had the chance to get my bearings with strangers beforehand.

  One hand clasped mine in a callused grip, the other sliding around my hip to brace the small of my back and pull me close. Too close. Close enough to feel the heat of him through my woolen dress – to turn my iron spine to water.

  Pressed against him, my heart pounded in my chest. I forced myself to look up at his grinning face, his breath mingling with mine as he raised his brows at me.

  “Ready?”

  “Likely not,” I confessed with a laugh.

  At that, we were off again, whirling through the crowd on the tide of the music. To my credit, I only stepped on his foot twice. It was exhilarating, exhausting, and the most fun thing I’d ever done in my life. By the time we all retreated to collapse back into our chairs, my feet ached. We ordered another round and I ignored Quintin’s darkening scowl with determination.

  One of the other young men had started in on a story that was familiar to everyone but me, it seemed. “So she shimmies down the mizzen, stomps up to the foredeck-”

  “I did not stomp!” Natalia protested.

  “-looks the captain straight in the face-”

  “Miserable old codger,” someone added.

  “-says ‘If you don’t swing round for that raft, it’ll take Brizo herself to keep me from thrashing you!’” The table erupted in laughter as Natalia objected to the unflattering rendition.

  “You sailed?” I leaned in, aghast. “On a ship? With men?”

  She met my eyes openly. “Of course.”

  “Have you not wondered why we don’t use ben or fen in our surnames?” Alec put to me.

  I shrugged. “I guessed it was simply too much of a mouthful.” That sparked a bit more laughter, and once again I felt foolish.

  Natalia smiled kindly. “Men and women share a more equal footing in Daria, especially at sea. Brizo doesn’t care if you’re a daughter or a son, she’ll claim you regardless, so neither do we. If you can rig a sail, if you can load a ballista, if you can wield a sword, you are welcome in our fleet.”

  “I hear you’re not unfamiliar with the concept,” one of their cousins muttered and was quickly elbowed into silence. Emboldened by mead and revelry, I fixed the young man with a pointed stare.

  “What exactly have you heard about me?” I asked.

  He shot Natalia a hesitant glance. When she threw up one hand in acquiescence, his coy gaze and archetypal Van Dryn smirk returned to me.

  “That you train with sword and shield. That you ride astride in the manner of a cavalryman. That you keep a Tuvrian manservant to train you in the ways of warfare.” He jutted his chin toward Quintin at that last. I glanced back over my shoulder to find a pair of ice blue eyes glinting furiously at the lot of us.

  Fuck it. I threw caution to the wind and summoned Eli from the depths of the garrison.

  “First of all,” I turned back to my captive audience. “I’m shit with a sword and shield. Give me a bow and I’ll give you something to talk about.” That earned me some laughs and a few hoots. “I ride as men do because I’m a Lazerin and because it’s practical. And,” I added, jabbing the table with my finger. “I keep no one, nor does my family. Quintin serves at his own leisure, and if you’ve a more capable armsman, I’d like to see him.” It was a blind boast, as I’d seen little of his capability, but Tuvrian prowess at arms was renowned through all of Alesia.

  The table was hushed, the cousin chastened. A few exchanged uncomfortable glances and I suddenly second-guessed unleashing my alter-ego amidst this company.

  “So you have trained with a sword, then?” Natalia broke the awkward silence.

  I met her gaze unflinching. “I have.”

  She grinned wickedly. “Well bugger off, lads, I’m resuming my commission with this one as my First.” Our companions erupted in laughter and she winked at me.

  With the evening’s mood rescued by my elegant and unexpected ally, we finished a few more rounds of mead before calling a close to the festivities. My head swimming, I was whisked along with our party out into the night and through the streets to our covert stable. I don’t remember mounting Valor, parting ways with my companions, or following Quintin back through the city to the manor. I do remember him helping a sleepy Shera guide me up the steps to my bedroom. Then, darkness.

  Waking in a sweat, I saw midday peering through my curtains and squinted against the light, clutching the bundle of agony that was apparently my head. The door to my chambers burst open louder than the unleashing of the seven hells and Greta stomped her way to my bedside, thrusting a glass of some mysterious concoction at me. I turned away with a miserable groan and cursed at her to be quiet.

  “Drink,” she demanded, snatching my blankets when I tried to pull them back over my head.

  Sitting up reluctantly, I gulped some of the proffered liquid and nearly vomited on my bedsheets. “What the bloody hells-”

  “All of it, miss.” Her tone left no room for disagreement, so I held my nose and forced down the rest. “You’ll feel right as rain in a trice,” she said, snatching the glass back and turning for the door. “Shera’ll be in straight away to get you dressed.”

  Lunch, and my parents, were waiting for me in the dining room, the latter with displeased expressions. I suppose the former as well. The head of the recently-roasted hog sneered at me from the centerpiece. Two pairs of forest eyes tracked my every move in furious silence. Seats that were normally filled with our armsmen and staff sat suspiciously empty.

  Quintin. The realization broke over me like a wave of cold betrayal, though I should have known he’d sell me out after our conversation in the kitchen. Not that he needed to, since my lamentable condition surely spoke volumes regarding my previous night’s activities, and my mother’s skills alone would have laid me bare with laughable ease.

  So many mistakes, I thought to myself over the roar of my throbbing head. Shouldn’t have made fun of him. Shouldn’t have stayed so late, drank so damned much. I glared at the Tuvrian’s empty seat. Should have just gone alone.

  No. I knew the truth of it before the thought even finished rattling around in my skull. I’d made a
n impressive number of foolish decisions, but that was not one of them. Better to be discovered than dead, though the utter misery of my current condition left me wishing I was the latter.

  Nothing left, now, but to weather the inevitable storm. I tried to make myself as unobtrusive as possible as I helped myself to some ham and biscuits.

  “You seem to have enjoyed your evening,” my mother observed in a deceptively casual tone, breaking the long, terrible silence. I didn’t dare look up from my plate.

  I heard my father draw a calculated breath. “I do not have enough years left on this earth to enumerate the dangers of your actions,” he said slowly, each word stiff with the effort of maintaining his calm.

  “I was well-protected,” I began carefully, setting down my fork and folding my hands in my lap.

  “My garrison is not at your beck and call,” he snapped, his palpable anger crackling in the air.

  “We were chaperoned. Lady Natalia and a number of other noblemen were in attendance. I wouldn’t have gone if-”

  “What you would or would not have done is irrelevant,” he cut me off, and I did meet his gaze, then, drawn by the sheer fury in that voice. “You went. To Dockside. Alone.”

  I stiffened. “I wasn’t alone.”

  “At night,” he added, ignoring my protest.

  “I am not a child.”

  “You are the heir to this House!” he thundered, his fist slamming the table and sending dishes clattering.

  “Enough,” my mother intervened sternly. She fixed me with a commanding stare. “Elivya, the study. Now.” I stood and took leave of my barely-touched plate, stalking toward the doorway. Before I passed through it and out of sight, I dared a glance back at my parents, and what I saw only made me feel worse. My mother laid a reassuring hand on my father’s shoulder. He reached up to place his hand over hers, his head bowed.

  Disappointment. I had betrayed their trust – again – and put the future of my House at risk.

  In the hallway, Quintin waited at loose attention, his face tired but resolved. All the daggers in the world could not adequately fly from my eyes. I shoved past him and immediately regretted slamming the study door behind me. My head was still throbbing when my mother strode into the room.

  “Sit,” she commanded.

  I obeyed, sinking onto the couch and watching her gather her thoughts as she paced before me.

  “Your father and I have always tried to give you your freedom,” she began carefully. “We both believed that it would serve you better than keeping you on the short leash most young noblewomen endure throughout their youth.”

  I wondered if that included her, and realized I had never asked. She pressed on, irritation creeping into her tone as her immaculate control began to falter.

  “You wanted to ride astride, and we humored you. You wanted to run about with the young boys of the household staff, so we let you scrap and wrestle and throw mud. You wanted to train with the garrison, and gods, I thought James would bring you back in a canvas bag, but I lied for you nonetheless.”

  “And I am grateful-”

  She whirled on me, her anger surfacing as I’d not seen it before. “No. You aren’t. You have no idea what it could cost us to raise you this way. What your actions could have cost us.”

  “You trained me to navigate Court as well,” I said carefully. “I took precautions and-”

  “You could have been seen! You could have been killed for your coin purse riding to or from that place! Or for your fine horse!” she added, gesticulating furiously. “To ride Valor, of all the stupid things-”

  “I know,” I cut in, my skull aching. Damn it, Greta, when does this stupid concoction start to work? “I was distracted.” Adrian’s face swam in my mind.

  She ceased her pacing and jabbed one finger my direction. “And that is the danger. You cannot risk distraction in this place. One scandal, Elivya. Just one could ruin you. If you do not make a good match, this House will fall to lesser hands.”

  “And that is why I deemed it worth the risk.” I thrust the words into the air between us before she could continue.

  Mother stilled, shooting me a sharp glare of warning. “The Van Dryns are dangerous. You have no idea what Yuri is capable of.”

  “You wanted me to draw suitors,” I grumbled, rubbing my aching skull. “This one requires a more unconventional approach.” With effort, I raised my glare to match hers. “Why bother teaching me these skills if I’m not to use them?”

  “Do not turn this on me, young lady. You are not equipped to handle the wolves of Daria.”

  “Then help me,” I bit back. “Adrian is interested, and in case you care, I actually like him.”

  “Of course I care,” she retorted stiffly.

  A long, tense silence stretched between us. Rubbing her arms, she began to pace again, calm calculation gradually taking the place of her anger.

  “A bit old for you,” she muttered at length. “Was it his invitation or his sister’s that drew you to make such irresponsible choices?”

  “His.”

  “And is his interest genuine or purely…physical?”

  I thought back to our limited interactions: our charged introduction at the palace, his ruse to get me to the solarium, the earnestness in his eyes when he asked me to slip away in the early evening hours. My body warmed at the memory of being pressed against him in the tavern. If nothing else, that alone would have been worth my parents’ fury.

  “He’s intrigued, one way or the other,” I replied, knowing better than to assume beyond the evidence of his actions. “I think he wants to know more.”

  “Then we should invite him to dinner.”

  A harsh laugh burst from my lips before I could stifle it. “Father will never-”

  “Your father,” she stopped me short, “knows that in these matters, I know best.”

  CHAPTER 18

  As it turned out, my mother’s arrangements began with a week of calculated silence. Blue-and-silver-liveried couriers were turned away time and again, and my heart ached to see my mother refuse the letters they offered. After three attempts, the messengers stopped coming, and I was sure she had made a grave misjudgment, but she remained resolute.

  “We must appear displeased with the callousness of their actions. It will help you to recover some measure of credibility, once all of this sweeps the Court with fresh gossip.”

  The week progressed hour by torturous hour. I was kept under lock and key, not even allowed to leave the manor for my daily lessons with Aubrey. I wondered if my mother was right about the gossip, and if so, what my closest friend thought of it.

  At last, when I was sure the potential was all but shattered by my mother’s constant rebuttals, she called me into the study and revealed her plan. We would extend a reciprocal invitation to Adrian, inviting him – alone – to enjoy a family dinner with us. As our House was significantly less prolific than the Van Dryn line, she decided for appearances’ sake to invite Lord Chamberlain and Aubrey. Not only did their inclusion provide a more appropriate number of guests for such an affair, but the gossip that House Lazerin had entertained not one but two eligible heirs of the Greater Houses in a single evening could only bolster my reputation.

  At her behest, I hand-wrote the invitation myself and sent it in the same manner as his: the day of the event, with a courier to collect an immediate response.

  “My lord Van Dryn accepts your invitation gladly,” our messenger relayed with a crisp bow. “He would also like me to reassure you that he will secure his own transport.” I ducked my chin to conceal my smile. The subtle jest told me far more than his mere acceptance could.

  “Did you offer the carriage?” Mother asked me, bewildered. Biting my cheek against the relieved laugh that threatened to burst from me, all I could manage was a shake of my head.

  I emerged from the bath chamber that evening to find my mother waiting in my bedroom, poring over my gowns. I instantly
feared she’d pick something embarrassingly modest, but to my pleasant surprise, the final selection was a deep emerald lace number with a deceptively conservative front and a scandalously low back. She raised her chin in response to my arching brows and handed the dress to Shera.

  “Remind him you are worth the wait,” she said wickedly before leaving me to my work.

  When all was said and done, I felt a bit strangled by the high lace collar and uncomfortably exposed by the open back that left me bare all the way down to the small curve of my spine. Shera had to add a few stitches to ensure the dress hugged my figure just right and didn’t gap indecently. She embraced me in a sisterly fashion when she was finished.

  “Thank you,” I murmured into her soft braid.

  She pulled away with a smile and examined her handiwork. “If he doesn’t fall apart at the first sight of you, I’ll eat my apron.”

  With a wink, she sent me downstairs to await our guests. Aubrey and his father arrived first, as we had arranged. I endured a half-hearted berating from Lord Augustus for missing my lessons that week. Once I had sufficiently reassured him we would resume as scheduled, he relented and turned to my parents for conversation. Aubrey stepped in, nodding to the sideboard and the untouched glasses and decanter that waited there. I started toward it, turning my back to him.

  “Good gods, Liv!” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, fetching up beside me. “What in the seven hells prompted you to wear that?”

  “My mother,” I replied flatly as I poured for us.

  He gave his head a small shake and took a hearty swig of wine. “She certainly knows what she’s doing.”

  Adrian made his entrance a short while later with grace and humility, handing his overcoat to Emmett with thanks. His face was flushed from riding.

  “Have you brought no attendants?” my mother asked curiously when the door was shut behind him.