A Crown of Lilies Read online

  Chapter 4

  In my rush to make ready for our invitation to the Chamberlain manor, I hadn’t sought out James upon returning from the tailors’ quarter. In fact, I hadn’t seen him at all that day. The realization struck me as I hurried down the stairs from my room to meet my parents for the carriage.

  “You look quite fanciful.” His voice brought me to a startled halt and I turned to see him leaning against a door frame, arms and ankles crossed in his typical casual manner. Light brown eyes evaluated me from under a shaggy mop of hair. “Better than a bloody tunic.” He tilted his head and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Although breeches certainly have some appeal.”

  I grinned. “Buggerer.” We passed a moment of uncomfortable silence, the playful mood faltering. “I’m sorry, I must go. We’ve been invited-”

  “To dine with the Royal Poet and his son, yes, I know,” he finished for me in a less-than-pleasant tone. I drew back defensively and opened my mouth to retort.

  “Miss Elivya, your parents are waiting.” Emmett stood just beyond us in the foyer, holding my heavy green cloak. James had already disappeared into the house, so I stepped out into the cold evening and into the waiting coach.

  When we arrived at the Chamberlain manor, I was too distracted to feel nostalgia at walking up the brown stone steps I had climbed so many times before. My preoccupation melted away, however, upon seeing a long-missed face.

  “Dear gods, what have you done to yourself?”

  “Aubrey!” I exclaimed, practically throwing my cloak at the doorman and flinging myself into my friend’s outstretched arms. He embraced me tightly, lifting my feet off the floor in his fervor before releasing me. I beamed up at him – he had grown another few inches in the eighteen months since I’d seen him last – and felt my worries melt. “I’ve missed you.”

  He smiled back and kissed my cheek, taking me under his arm and guiding me into the sitting room, where our parents had already taken up couches and pre-dinner wine. Joining them, we conversed on the recent goings-on at Court.

  “It seems House Oristei is making a play for the throne,” Augustus informed us, cradling his glass.

  “Oh?” my mother inquired, eyes lighting with interest.

  “Mm.” He chewed a grape thoughtfully. “Reyus’ younger sister Rishel.”

  “Was she widowed?” Father inquired.

  “Never wed.” The grapes began to disappear more rapidly.

  “Why on earth not?” I asked, bewildered.

  Aubrey picked up the conversation with a flawless transition. “She was originally promised to the old General Teresius when she was only fifteen. A political match, no more. There were some trade agreements turning sour between Ostris and Tuvria. Fortunately for Rishel, her father passed before the marriage could be finalized.”

  “Reyus canceled the agreement for love of his sister,” my mother contributed, adjusting her skirts.

  Aubrey nodded. “Sadly, the spurned General had some sway in society. She was ostracized by the Court for the remainder of Teresius’ life. When the old bastard finally died a few years ago, she was nearly thirty.” And beyond the age of interest to suitors. The unspoken truth hung in the air. Young women had a small window of opportunity to find a suitable match and make an agreeable marriage.

  “Nevertheless, she has recently been re-accepted into society,” Augustus chimed back in. “She attends many of the public engagements. Just last month, she rode with the King at the autumn hunt.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing inappropriate, you understand, but they do seem to have developed a rapport.”

  My mother tapped her glass with one finger, considering. “Perhaps it is time Amenon remarried. It has been so many years since Cerya died….” We all sat in silence a moment, the elders reflecting on their encounters with the late queen, we youngers merely wondering at the stories we had heard. She had been a Halkryn, a lesser house of Chamberlain that was known for their bards. When Cerya performed at a small gala at the palace, the King could not take his eyes from her. Some say he wept at the beauty of her voice. It was a true love match, as passionate as any Alesia had seen in their beloved monarchs.

  My father sipped his wine thoughtfully. “And what of Selice?”

  Augustus shrugged. “I am unsure. As usual, she is kept hidden away. The King is so protective of her, I doubt we’ll even see her face on her wedding day.”

  It had been a long while since I had spoken. I had to quietly clear my throat to be sure intelligible sounds would emerge from it. “How old is she now?”

  “A bit younger than the two of you,” the King’s Poet gestured at Aubrey and me with his glass. “Fifteen, I believe.”

  “Will he debut her?”

  Another shrug. “Who knows. With that girl, it is always a mystery.”

  I fell silent as the conversation turned to other topics. In my mind, I wondered what kind of grief would drive a man to hide away his only child, and what kind of life that poor secluded girl must have.

  The following days passed fairly quickly, and our appointment at the Oristei estate came and went. Lord Reyus and his wife Amelie were gracious hosts, though his watchful gaze unsettled me. A long history lay between our two Houses, and I sensed a hopefulness in my parents that did nothing to put me at ease. Ulrich and Feran were pleasant young men, though they were not the most handsome boys I had seen, and I did my part to display my wit and grace, always accompanied by the cloak of humility. I liked them well enough, but I think my parents recognized my indifference, as they did not press me about further visits to the Oristei estate, though the invitations came.

  Along with them came solicitations from many other Houses, quite a few of which we accepted. It was imperative to gain visibility without appearing desperate. Most of the selections were made by my mother, and I found the vast majority of our outings quite enjoyable. The noble Houses contained many perfectly agreeable young men, but none in particular caught my eye.

  The months leading up to the winter solstice put more stress on my relationship with James. Each engagement required a preparatory period in which Mother and I would review the current goings-on of the House we were to be courting. This made our evenings with potential suitors pass more smoothly but required a significant amount of time. Aubrey and I had also resumed our lessons with his father, which seemed only to compound James’ bitterness. All of this left little time for him, with the exception of my morning exercises in the back garden, which he joined.

  It was one such morning when I awoke a bit earlier than usual, the first lights of the dawn just barely beginning to peek over the horizon as I slipped out of bed and into my sparring gear. The creeping silence of the house made it easy to hear the sounds of movement in the garden. In the dim light, I could barely make out the figure of Quintin, spinning and slashing a twin pair of one-handed swords in devastating patterns. I watched from the shadows just inside the doorway, transfixed as he completed the cycle. I’d never seen a Tuvrian warrior in action. It was something to behold.

  Finished, he sheathed his blades in the double baldric strapped to his back with practiced ease and murmured something under his breath, but I failed to make out the words.

  I thought to speak, to make my presence known, but stopped short upon hearing familiar steps approach from behind. James’ boots halted abruptly a few paces to my rear. I glanced over my shoulder to greet him and saw poorly-concealed suspicion tightening his mouth to a thin line. Quintin slipped by us with marked indifference and stalked off into the house.

  James pushed past me brusquely, crossing to face me from the other side of the courtyard. His sword rang free, a sharp sound that echoed off the frozen stone walls. He had schooled himself to neutrality and waited poised with his sword at the ready. I took my place hesitantly, shedding my cloak and drawing my own. His first advance was unusually aggressive, sparking a flurry of panicked parries while driving me back toward the arcade. When he finally relented, my surprise turned quickly to anger.
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  “What in the hells is wrong with you?!”

  “Sorry,” he grumbled, sword at the ready. “I got the impression you wanted more of a challenge.” That boiled my blood. Fine. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him a fight. We exchanged blows for a few minutes. James continued to press unusually hard until my guard faltered and my block didn’t quite turn his thrust far enough to the side. I yelped as his blade sliced into my ribcage. Horrified, he backed off immediately, hands raised in a placating gesture, but I was having none of it. Furious, I swore at him as I flung my blade to the ground at his feet. I spat on the frozen grass between us and stalked off, clutching my bleeding side.

  Shera squealed in horror when she saw the blood and immediately ran off to fetch Greta. I sat on a bench in the kitchen and fumed, swearing and snarling like a wounded dog. My mousy handmaiden soon returned, a concerned Greta in tow with a small leather pouch. After removing my tunic and carefully cleaning the wound, she made neat work of it. I can’t say I was a very good patient, however. The tug of the needle felt grotesque and unnatural, aside from the pain of it. I nearly vomited at the first stitch and quickly learned to turn away. When it was done, I examined the macabre patchwork and agreed to her instructions as Shera wound the linen bandage about my ribs. I saw her eyes catch sight of something behind me, widen, and a cry of protest escaped her lips. I craned my head over one shoulder. Pale blue eyes evaluated me, my abandoned sword in his hand.

  I did not shrink away.

  After a moment, he laid the blade reverently upon the table and left.

  Shera blinked her confusion at the now-empty doorway. Greta tugged my tunic back over my head, muttering about the indecency of it all. I stood from the bench slowly and turned toward the table, my sword upon it. Pensive fingers glided across the pommel, the quillon, down the blade. My heart wanted what it could not have. James wanted what could never be, but perhaps we could find some kind of peace somewhere in the middle. Tracing the fuller, I wondered how to salvage things with my oldest friend.

  The next few days were tense. My mother was furious upon learning of the accident and demanded James be sent back to Laezon. Father must have talked her out of it since no such order was issued and my temperamental companion remained. For me, my father only offered one of his enigmatic glances that suggested the entire incident was my fault. I avoided James, which was no difficulty seeing as my social engagements and resumed studies filled most of my time. I would have kept the whole thing a secret from Aubrey, but he noticed my stiffness and pulled the tale from me, as he always does. He too was furious, but I brushed it off with an aloofness I did not truly feel.

  Midwinter approached quickly, and with it the Yule Gala. Mother had another gown commissioned for me, though this time without my input. My head spinning with the gossip of Court and the current events of the Houses I was courting, I couldn’t have cared less. Before I realized, the night was upon us and Greta was spilling into my room, arms full of a bundle wrapped and tied, round face aglow with excitement. Shera, Poppy, and Ellen squealed with glee and tore open the packaging to reveal the dress. To my immense surprise, the gown was white. Asymmetrical layers dripped with delicate tendrils of crystal beads that reminded me of the half-frozen fountain in the courtyard. To my joy, the neckline was cut straight across, with no neck or sleeves. Greta made a sound of displeasure, muttering something about impropriety.

  “That is not all, Miss Elivya,” called Poppy. In her hands, she held a small chest. It opened to reveal matching lace gloves and a collar of crystals so cleverly wrought that one could barely see the wires holding it together. They made a fuss, as young women are wont to do. When all was said and done and I inspected myself in the mirror, I was quite pleased with the result.

  The girls had wound my dark locks into an elegant updo of curls accented with crystal-headed pins. The bodice of the gown fit immaculately, despite my bandage, and the cascade of dripping layers flowed and glistened without being gaudy. I was unsure about the collar of crystals, disliking blatant ostentation. Greta shook her head and insisted, pointing out that it distracted from the broadness of my shoulders. Hm.

  Mother and Father seemed pleased at my appearance. James was nowhere to be found, and though I hadn’t really expected to see him, it still left me a bit crestfallen. I glanced at Seth inquiringly, but an apologetic shrug was all he had to offer. Emmett helped me into my thick, green cloak, and the household sent us off.

  Every lantern in the city was lit as snow fell softly from the dark sky. Crofter’s Castle shone in the night. White banners flew en masse, emblazoned with the golden sun of Adulil. Yule is, above all, a celebration of the turning point at which the sun begins to return and drive away the winter. As the city of light, as Adulil’s city, as the seat of the royal House of His blood, the return of the sun is heralded with immense fanfare in Litheria, from the slums of Dockside to Crofter’s Castle.

  Large fires roared in iron stands along the walkway, making the frigid distance from the carriage to the entryway much easier to bear. I was still glad for my cloak, however, and relinquished it to the liveried attendant with a touch of regret. My parents moved off toward the ballroom. Following behind a few paces, I waited atop the staircase as they were announced.

  Halfway down the steps, Aubrey bounded up them out of the crowd to claim me from my appalled escort. “That will do, my good man. Many thanks.” The liveried squire stalked off, muttering under his breath.

  “You must be looking to be made a scandal, Aubrey,” I teased.

  He beamed at me as we made our way down the remaining steps. “What’s the Yule Gala without a bit of gossip, eh?” My parents shook their heads at us, chuckling.

  “What have you heard?” I inquired as he deposited a glass of wine into my hand.

  He sipped his own, looking around the room. “There have been rumors this last week- ah, Leon!” he broke off to greet his golden-haired lover. Resplendent in a deep red doublet, Leon ben Therus shone with goodness that reached his soft hazel eyes. It was no wonder my dearest friend had fallen for this beautiful creature. “Leon, meet Elivya fen Lazerin.”

  “Your exquisite study companion,” he acknowledged, bowing gracefully over my gloved hand. “The girl-heir of House Lazerin. Aubrey speaks of you often.” He lowered his voice. “I hope your previous impression of me will not ruin our acquaintance.”

  I flushed. Damn you, Aubrey. “I was a foolish girl then. I hope you will find me much improved from those days.”

  He grinned slyly. “Far more experienced, I’m sure.”

  I gaped at Aubrey in accusation. I’d told him of James in strict confidence. He cut in quickly, “Your exploits with the garrison were the topic of a few conversations.” I shut my mouth with a click.

  “She certainly blushes a lot,” Leon commented as he eyed me, sipping his wine. “Lucky for you, it becomes you, my dear.”

  “You were saying, Aubrey?” I insisted, tired of their teasing.

  It took him a moment. “In the last week, rumors have arisen regarding the King’s new consort, the Lady Rishel.”

  My embarrassment vanished. “What kinds of rumors?”

  Leon leaned close. “Word of late-night rendezvous and secret nuptials abound.”

  “Do you think it likely?”

  Aubrey shrugged. “It is certainly possible. They have spent much time in each other’s company these last months.” His tone turned serious. “Father tells me His Majesty is quite taken with her. Nothing compared to his passion for Cerya, but that was many years ago and Amenon was a young man then. Time and loss wither the hearts of even the most passionate men.”

  “Is this gossip, or are you writing a ballad?” Leon teased affectionately.

  My peer replied in all seriousness. “It would make a beautiful tale, to be sure.” I followed his gaze across the room to the entryway stairs. There stood Amenon with a stunning woman on his arm. “As beautiful as the one our parents witnessed, I would wager.”

  The tr
umpets rang out and the King was announced with his escort. Lady Rishel fen Oristei was indeed a beautiful woman, with a curtain of silky russet hair hung loosely about her, decorated with a few trinket-adorned braids. Her gown cascaded in layers of sheer fabrics, various shades of gold and bronze catching the light. An assortment of bangles clinked softly as the couple descended the staircase. Amidst the sea of heavily decorated Nobles, she glowed like a goddess from myth. Though her beauty captured the eye, there was also a lightness to King Amenon’s demeanor I had never seen before. He looked more at ease that evening, more whole, the shadows gone from his eyes.

  Needless to say, court rumors were reignited by this latest development, and hushed conversations focused on little else. The assembled nobility didn’t have long to wait before their suspicions were confirmed. At the height of the evening, as the servants began laying the banquet table with heaping platters, the King rose from his seat on the dais. The room quickly hushed to a silence.

  “My lords and ladies, it is with a glad heart that I welcome you this evening.” His voice resonated richly through the marble hall. “On this, the sacred night of Yule, we celebrate the return of the sun, just as our fathers and their fathers before have for generations beyond memory. The solstice signifies the reemergence of light and joy in our lives, that not only do the nights shorten and the days lengthen, but hope reignites in our midst; hope for the new cycle, hope for a brighter future, hope for a new beginning. That is what I bring you now, my noble countrymen.”

  The King turned and offered his hand to Lady Rishel. She rose to stand beside him, gracing him with a loving smile. A diligent servant proffered glasses to them both, and we all waited with bated breath. “Not two hours past, High Priestess Valia administered our marriage vows and bound us to one another in this life.” A collective gasp was quickly stifled. The King proceeded firmly. “It is fitting, in my purview, that this night celebrate not only the rebirth of our world but also our nation. Tonight we start anew; we begin a new chapter for our House and for this country. May I present my wife, your queen, Rishel Oristei no Adulil.”