Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Page 7

  It was on one such outing that an old ache was thrust back into the forefront of my mind.

  James and I had stopped for a respite in the orchards before pressing on, laughing about old pranks and marveling at the burst of spring blossoms on the trees. Valor shot me a sour glare once he realized there were no apples to be had, but I scavenged a juicy clump of shade grass for him as consolation and he forgave the offense with little more than an irritable whip of his tail. From there we rode north at a leisurely pace. I was telling James about one of Aubrey’s more clever pieces of satire when we came upon the fort.

  My words stalled, Valor shuffling to a halt by instinct at the crest of the hill. Seated atop the next rise, a massive construction of stone overlooked the valley below. The walls stood high and thick, all five towers crested with the emerald banner of my House. Atop the tallest, a white flag of the House of Adulil rose above the others, its golden sunburst catching the afternoon light. The massive southern gate stood open, wagons and men passing through the jagged maw of the portcullis.

  The training fields that stretched across the broad valley before us buzzed with activity. Mounted figures rode laps along the rails. Men on foot performed repairs on the various targets and training implements scattered about. One lone soldier watered his horse at a broad trough.

  Though they weren’t doing anything inordinately remarkable, the sight of them still stirred that same old ache I’d first felt as a child. They were men. Soldiers. Seasoned Lazerin cavalry preparing the fort for the new batch of recruits that was surely already gathering behind those walls for training. For three months of steel and sweat. Three months of suffering that would earn them the strength they needed to fight for their place in the world.

  A strength that should be mine, I thought, my chest swelling with the dark sting of bitterness. My mother had given me teeth and claws, but no clandestine skill could make up for the yearning I’d felt since the first time I’d set eyes on those fields.

  “Still?”

  James’ gentle murmur pulled me from the bitter mess of my thoughts, drawing my gaze away from the fort. Those warm brown eyes met mine, understanding and pity painted across his features.

  “…Always,” I muttered back.

  Though I had never lacked for bravery – the stubborn, mutinous sort, at least – I was hard-pressed not to tremble when I strode into the study the next afternoon. Two pairs of green eyes glanced up when I entered, conversation halting as I approached the large wooden desk. With shoulders squared and back straight, I folded my hands behind me in the manner of a soldier and forced my face to a mask of stoic confidence.

  “I know what you said,” I began solemnly, forcing myself to meet my father’s eyes without flinching. “But for my own sake I must ask one last time.”

  I didn’t need to say the words. They both knew why I’d come. Mother retreated to the sideboard to pour herself a glass of wine, every movement pensive and deliberate. She would leave the decision to him, as she always had when I’d dared to tread in the domain of men.

  A low sigh hissed through his throat as he slowly straightened across from me. I watched the battle on his face, anger at my disobedience at war with the fatigue of having the same tired argument yet again. Throughout my youth, my father’s strict nature had often made exceptions for my rebellious spirit, but on the few occasions when he took a firm stand, he expected his word to be obeyed. With his towering size and fierce scowl, my father was terrifying when angry, and nothing stirred his share of Lazerin pride quite like a show of disrespect.

  The look on his face told me I was venturing perilously close to that line in his mind.

  “You know my answer,” he rumbled, the low warning in his voice sending a shiver down my spine. The steadying breath I drew didn’t quite chase it away.

  “I have done everything you have ever asked of me-”

  “As is your duty.”

  “-and never asked for anything in return.”

  “Your reward is this House.”

  “I have memorized bloodlines of people I will never meet,” I pressed on, ignoring his sharp retort. “I’ve learned to dance and curtsy and sew and smile. To make polite conversation until my tongue turns to lead. I have studied five languages and can recite entire ballads in two of them.” My eyes burned with the threat of tears as that long-held frustration seeped to the surface. “I have done my duty, Father.”

  “You are yet unwed,” he countered stiffly. “You will have done your duty when you marry. When you have ensured the continuation of this House.”

  My own pride rose to meet his. “Is that all I am to you?” I scoffed. “A bit of breed stock to be charted in your damned ledger?”

  “Don’t,” he warned, jabbing a finger my way. “Don’t do that.”

  “I will fulfill every aspect of my duty to this family, but I will not-”

  “Don’t twist my words,” he thundered, those forest eyes flaring angrily. “Or you’ll soon find yourself reacquainted with the switch.”

  Knowing full well that my father did not make idle threats, I swallowed the rest of my bitter argument and stifled my temper.

  “Send me with a guard or two if it eases your conscience. I’ll pose as a son of one of the lesser bloodlines.”

  “Such a son would be trained by his father’s master-of-arms,” he dismissed flatly.

  “Call it a punishment, then. A son in disfavor.”

  His only response was a sharp, humorless laugh and a shake of his head.

  “Or a wealthy merchant’s boy,” I suggested, battling to keep my voice steady. “A guildsman. Anything.”

  “No.”

  “Then a layman, same as all the others. It makes no difference to me.”

  “No,” he repeated through gritted teeth. The gathering storm on his face was nearing its breaking point, but I barreled on heedlessly.

  “It’s only a few months,” I bit back, my own anger rising once more in the face of his stubborn refusal. “I’ve more than a year before I’m due back at Court. Plenty of time for Mother’s lessons and whatever else you deem necessary before selling me off to the highest bidder.”

  “Elivya,” he growled, a final warning, but my composure had long since made way for the well of frustration I’d kept buried for so long.

  “What are you so afraid of?” I gasped, throwing my hands wide. “This isn’t Tuvria. No one dies training with the cavalry.”

  “I told you to leave this-”

  “If you had a shred of confidence in me-”

  “You are not a son!” he roared, exasperation finally stealing the last of his control. “You are a daughter – my daughter – and you will do as I command!”

  The full force of that terrible anger withered me where I stood. I shrank beneath it, despite my best efforts, all at once a weak and spineless thing worthy of nothing but contempt. It felt as though I watched myself from the outside, shriveling in fear before his fury, suddenly unable to fight for the things I wanted.

  And in that moment, I realized just how much I hated that weakness. It burned through my veins, a vibrant scourge of self-loathing that flooded me in a flash but did nothing to halt the quick retreat I made from the study. My feet fled of their own accord, eyes battling bitter tears while my mind spun. That moment of revelation finally put into sharp relief the truth behind my lifelong yearning.

  I didn’t want the sword for the sword’s sake. I didn’t expect to cross blades on a battlefield or have to best a man in single combat. No matter how much the bow and blade called to me, I didn’t want to endure those three months at the fort for the skills alone.

  I needed to know I could.

  “You’ve lost your damned mind,” James breathed, wide-eyed and gaping at me through the dark of the stables that night. The flickering lantern light cast his dumbstruck features in deep shadow.

  “I’ll not be able to pass for a boy much longer,” I replied in as even a tone
as I could muster. “It must be now.”

  He gestured at my figure, breeches and tunic barely concealing the slight curves that had finally begun to reshape my body.

  “Bit late, don’t you think?” he scoffed.

  “I can be convincing enough, especially with someone there to reinforce the ruse. If you don’t appear to think twice about it, neither will they.”

  Until that moment, he hadn’t realized I meant for him to accompany me, a prospect which clearly sat ill with even his limited amount of good sense. He recoiled a step, fear tightening his features, and raised a shaky hand between us.

  “Ohhh, no. This isn’t some stupid prank, Elivya.”

  “I’m fully aware.”

  “I’ll lose my position!” His eyes flitted to Shera, hovering silently beside me. “So will you, in case you hadn’t bothered to give it half a thought!”

  She held his gaze unflinching. “I am at my lady’s service.”

  A sharp bark of a laugh tore from his lips, and a few drowsy whickers of protest sounded from the nearby stalls. James jabbed an angry finger at me.

  “If – when – your father finds out, he’ll come for you. And anyone who’s helped you will pay the price.”

  “I know what I’m asking, James.”

  “Not just lashes,” he pressed impatiently, clearly convinced I’d not given the plan a lick of consideration. “Dismissal is the best of it! He could have me arrested for kidnapping! And you, a noble – and a woman! You want to see me hanging in the bailey?”

  “It won’t come to that,” I assured. “I’ll tell him everything, when the time comes.” James turned from me to tug at his fiery hair while pacing a lap up and down the aisle. “If everything goes according to plan,” I added, “we’ll have at least a few weeks before he tracks me to the fort.”

  James halted abruptly at that and turned his accusatory glare on Shera. “In case you weren’t aware, Shera here isn’t exactly reliable. She botched every prank we tried while you were away with Izikiel.”

  The girl bristled, her pretty face flushing in the dark. “Don’t mistake indifference for incompetence. I never asked to be dragged into your harebrained schemes.”

  He waved an exasperated hand my way. “And what do you call this?”

  She glared right back at him, cocking her head in fierce challenge. “Loyalty.”

  Their animosity threatened to set the whole barn alight unless I intervened, so I grabbed James by the arm and marched him back down the aisle away from my fuming handmaiden.

  “This will work,” I insisted once we’d established some semblance of privacy, “but I can’t pull it off without your help.”

  His steadfast glare finally tore from Shera to settle on me. “You think a few letters will fool your parents? If anything, the two of us disappearing in the night will only spur their search for you that much sooner.” Despite his steady tone, a bit of pink colored his cheeks. I’d been thorough, though. I knew full well how our vanishing act might appear and had made arrangements to legitimize our escape.

  “Charles is to be our escort.”

  He raised a dubious brow at me. “I think your father will notice if one of his armsmen isn’t actually missing.”

  “He will be. He and Clarissa left for Fumel an hour ago.”

  My friend paled a bit. “Fuck’s sake, how did you manage that?”

  “With a handful of my best jewelry.”

  “You bribed one of Lord Damien’s own armsmen?”

  “Clarissa’s father was never going to give his blessing,” I retorted with a roll of my eyes. “I simply offered them a way out. Charles was smart enough to take it.”

  “You mean desperate enough.”

  I shrugged in concession, unable to suppress the small swell of pride I felt at the success of that particular play. What skills my mother had taught me, I’d practiced on the only court at my disposal prior to our winter in the city: the Lazerin household. I’d spied on nearly every member of the staff, learned their secrets, practiced pressing for their fault lines and drawing out information. It had been a game to me, then, a challenge to put my new abilities to the test. In the end, I’d learned the most important lesson of all: that even the most trivial knowledge can have value. That seemingly worthless story of star-crossed lovers had suddenly become more precious than gold the moment I decided to run away.

  “In the morning,” I forged on while James continued to gape at me, “Shera will report that I fled to Litheria to seek solace in Aubrey’s company in the wake of our argument. When my parents find both you and Charles missing, she will mention overhearing my plans to enlist an escort; yours by means of friendship and Charles’ by bribery.”

  “Accurate.”

  “The best lies stick close to the truth,” I recited with a wry smirk.

  “Was it really that bad?” he asked after a moment of consideration, kind eyes finding mine in the dark. “The argument.”

  My smile faded. “…Bad enough.”

  He watched me with that knowing gaze, all the years of our friendship crowding the still air between us. James had been there every time my father had refused my petitions to train with the cavalry. Every spring, when I retreated to the stables to hide in the hay loft and nurse my bitter tears, he’d listened to me rail against the unfairness of it all and told jokes to cheer me. He knew better than anyone just how badly I wanted that training. More than that, though; he was the only one in the world who truly understood why.

  His warm brown eyes roamed the stables in thought, teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek. At length, his attention settled back on me, his tense shoulders slumping.

  “What about Samson?” he muttered with a defeated sigh. “If he sees us, we’re done.”

  “That’s a chance we’ll have to take. I expect he does little of the training himself. I’ve never seen him on the fields, only his captains.”

  A reluctant nod of agreement was all he offered in reply, dropping his pensive gaze to the straw-scattered floor.

  “I must do this,” I pressed in earnest. “Even if I only last a day. A week. I need to try.”

  “I know,” he murmured, staring at his boots.

  The distant lanternlight behind me caught in his mop of red hair and set the tips aflame. When he lifted his head to face me once more, it did the same to the scrap of copper scruff on his jaw. Resigned to his fate, he gripped my shoulder, quirked a brow, and offered me that familiar roguish grin.

  “You’re going to hate the food.”

  CHAPTER 7

  We slipped out the side gate just as the velvet black of the sky began to blush with violet, a whisper of the dawn to come. In the smokey light, it was easy enough to pick out the distant silhouettes of the mounted patrols and give them a wide berth. Our circuitous route through the orchards concealed a good portion of our journey, though it added nearly a half-day to our travels.

  Dusk was all but gone by the time we reached the fort, our weary mounts ambling up to the sturdy wood-and-iron gate. After a short exchange with the sentries, we passed beneath the portcullis and into a massive stone courtyard still bustling with activity.

  “You’ve missed supper,” a stable boy grumbled as he showed us to two open stalls, “but Sarah may be willing to warm you up something.

  After seeing to our own mounts, we signed in with the quartermaster and then headed for the mess hall. The main basilica reached nearly as high as the fortress walls, as wide as it was tall and nearly twice as long. Simple shutters had been thrown wide to allow smoke to escape into the pleasant evening air.

  As we drew near, the doors before us burst open to expel four very inebriated men, a cacophony of noise spilling into the night behind them. They stumbled by us and we made our way inside. I was immediately glad for my breeches and tunic, and even more thankful that Shera had tied back my hair. My face and figure were still boyish enough to do the rest. None of the men at those tankard-laden tab
les paid much attention to us as we passed through the long hall.

  Tattered, bloodied flags lined the walls, hung like tapestries over the stones. One infamous black flag caught my eye at the far end, its golden sunburst a twin to the one flying over the fort on a field of white.

  Brandon the Bastard.

  Two decades ago, Amenon’s half-brother had pressed Laezon in an attempt to gain control of the fort as a strategic staging point for a final assault on Litheria. Wave after wave of his army had broken against those formidable walls, until his losses became so great that he retreated southwest to Istra to regroup. The War of Crowns ended shortly thereafter. That months-long siege had cost thousands of Laezonese lives, including my father’s only brother Thomas, but that hard-won victory was the pride of the Lazerin garrison and the shredded black flag of Brandon the Bastard held a prized place closest to the hearth.

  We made our way through the mass of ale-stinking bodies to the far end of the hall and found a few empty seats within sight of the kitchen. James poked his head into the galley to ask after some supper, returning shortly with two bowls of lukewarm stew and some crusty bread. I barely noticed when he set my portion before me, distracted as I was by the wanton chaos around us.

  Two young men toppled onto the tabletop several seats down, grappling drunkenly and overturning tankards of ale to the rather audible dismay of their peers. The next table over, a small circle of similarly disheveled recruits shouted and jeered as two among them competed in some absurd contest of strength. All around the room, men roared, laughed, jostled, or otherwise hassled one another with brutish abandon. I had never felt more out of place in my life.

  “What in the seven hells is going on?”

  James watched me shrink in my seat, clearly relishing my discomfort. “These are men, Elivya. Soldiers. This is what men do.”

  I returned his stupid grin with a sullen glare. “Nice to see you’ve gotten over your misgivings.”

  He shrugged one shoulder and set into his unappetizing supper. “Might as well enjoy my last few weeks breathing.”