The Firethorn Crown (21 page)

“Is that all you meant to ask her for?”

“Your Majesty?”

“Because you can ask her now, Runson.”

Runson’s attempt at a smile melted. “What’s the point? Your Majesty. Your wife’s careless words nullified any legitimate offers from respectable men.”

Father’s jaw clenched before he spoke. “Your
queen’s
decree cannot be repealed, true. But it would be in everyone’s best interest if it were ignored.”

Mother and her ladies breezed in behind Runson, but he paid no heed.

He didn’t catch on to Father’s warning, either. “Let me have her, Your Majesty. No one else wants her now. She’s being childish and stubborn. I think she’s broken under the pressure, but I can help. She doesn’t need to do anything—I can take care of it all.”

All what? The country? He couldn’t even take care of his own estate, which was why he spent so much time in the city.

Father stilled and grew quiet. Very quiet.

Eben joined them and handed her a glass of lemonade. He glanced from face to face before settling on watching Father.

The king drew all eyes.

Runson pulled at his ear, shuffled his feet. His proposal was not getting the response he had anticipated. For once, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Holic and Hazel joined the quiet crowd, as did a few of Runson’s cousins. Whatever Father had planned for Lily to do, there would be an audience. Witnesses.

She took a sip of lemonade to wet her dry mouth, but she resisted the urge to clear her throat.

Father rubbed his hand on his jaw and took a deep breath. Let it out. He spoke to Lily, but he watched Runson. “Since he’s having trouble asking you directly, I’ll do it for him.”

A couple of ladies snickered.

“Lily, do you want to marry Runson?”

Now Father looked at her, and she shook her head “no” slowly and distinctly.

His voice rang out. “Let the decision of the Crown Princess of Ituria stand.”

Runson glared at her and then walked away.

She backed up a step. This wasn’t over for him. He was desperate, and brazen, and humiliated enough that he would keep trying to win her hand, and the throne, using Mother’s decree. He would choose not to ignore it.

Father bent and whispered into the air between her and Eben. “Our first king was a soldier, you know.”

Mother joined her king, and they walked onto the dance floor, hand in hand.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he soldier-king had been the son of a forester.

Eben was the son of a soldier.

Lily was the daughter of a king.

A tingling shiver ran from Lily’s head, down her back, all the way to her aching feet. Father had reminded her that kings and queens of Ituria were free to marry whoever they chose, no matter what tradition and power-hungry courtiers had come to say over the years.

Only the soldier-king’s bloodline could wear The Firethorn Crown, of course. Grandmother had never worn it after Grandfather died, but she had ruled with equal authority. Was this Father’s way of acknowledging Lily’s feelings and approving her choice? How did he know?

Eben’s face reddened, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he inspected the floor.

Their small audience dispersed. Lily took Eben’s hand and Yarrow’s and led her sisters to the tower to fetch the other girls. All fourteen of them walked, fully visible, out of their room and back down the tower stairs. At the bottom, Yarrow joined Ivy at the end of the line. Lily took Eben’s hand to complete the chain, and they disappeared.

Yarrow made a noise like a cough and a gulp at the same time. “Haven’t missed this,” he mumbled.

Lily stopped at the junction with the rose-covered fountain. Yarrow let go first and scrubbed his hands on his trousers.

Eben kept hold of her. “Let me go with you again.”

Not bothering to respond, because he wasn’t really asking, she traded his hand for Melantha’s and didn’t look back. She couldn’t bear to see the pain and anger in his eyes.

*

Without Eben by her side, the stairway seemed steeper, and the jewelled gashes in the trees glinted mockingly in the silver-white light. What could she hope to do down here by herself?

Tharius waited just beyond the archway, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. His expression changed when he saw Lily and the girls. He laid a gloved hand on the stone beside the broken gate and leaned forward, staring blatantly, his jaw hanging loose.

The older girls still wore their ballgowns—ruffles and lace, silk and satin, in shades of blush and lavender and sky blue that the undergarden had never conjured. He drank in the colors as the girls passed through the archway one by one, their gowns smudging into exquisitely jewelled creations of smoke and midnight. Lily stepped through last and stood before him in a sable gown capped with sleeves of golden chain mail. Her hair tickled an alarming amount of skin on her back. She was glad she’d left it loose.

The girls wandered to the clearing on their own.

Tharius peered into the darkness over her shoulder. He couldn’t see past the bend in the path, but he waited, listening, as if expecting to see a shadow flitting among the skeletal trees. Satisfied that no one followed, he turned to her, his red-rimmed eyes blinking slowly above feverish cheeks. Stubble shadowed his jaw.

Faster than should be possible in his state, and faster than she could back away, he wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened. One hand splayed across her back, fingers tangling in her hair, he pressed his cheek against her ear and inhaled deeply. The gardenia; it hadn’t disappeared. She pushed against him, and he loosened his grip enough for her to remove the flower. She held it out to him.

He cupped it in both hands as if she’d given him the moon. His lids lowered, and he breathed in the flower’s perfume over and over until he looked drunk on it.

“Here.” She took the bloom and attached it to his tunic, a white paler than his skin against black velvet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

He led her along new paths, past glowing green fungus and a three-foot waterfall, to the gazebo. His shortcut. He strained to keep his shoulders straight. When she had settled on the bench, he sank down beside her.

“I want to be mad at you, but I find I cannot summon the strength to do it.” He took her hand.

Her heart thumped twice, and she heard the echo of it in her ears. “Mad?”

“I should thank you, really. I’ve never seen a dragon close up.”

He’d better not have hurt Bay. “You’re wearing gloves tonight.” He’d had them on last night, too, but she hadn’t thought much about it, until Eben had mentioned the cemetery. She grasped his wrist and peeled the glove off his hand, half expecting and half fearing, to see dirt under the nails. He took the other one off and tossed them both on the bench beside him.

His hands trembled slightly as she turned them over in her own. They were clean.

“Don’t look too closely, Lily.” His voice rumbled softly. “You might not like what you find.”

“What do you mean?” She tried to let go, but he gripped her wrists tightly.

“There have been worse things than dirt on my hands.”

She didn’t want to know, but she had to ask. “Where is Bay?”

“You’re little spy is safe. For now.”

“Let her go.” She tugged uselessly against him.

“I’m not the one who holds the key to her freedom. You have the power to release us all, but you’re being selfish and stubborn.”

He sounded like Runson.

“You’re the reason I suffer here. Why do you keep me trapped in my father’s prison, when you have the power to free me? It’s cruel and heartless.”

Her face burned. “You’re assigning blame to the wrong people—first the sorcerer, and now me.”

He dropped her hands and spoke slowly, each word distinct, “What do you mean I have wrongly blamed the sorcerer?” The feverish tint on his cheeks deepened.

She didn’t care what Yarrow had said about not angering him. He needed to know what truth looked like.

“I’m not justifying his actions, but he’s not entirely to blame. Makar took what belonged to the sorcerer.”

Tharius jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “What?”

“Makar was the one who coveted the princess, the sorcerer’s
wife
.” She let that sink in for a moment. “Makar kidnapped her and told her husband she’d run away. The sorcerer pursued them and cursed Makar, his followers, and his lineage—”

Tharius stood and pressed his fists to his head. “I am still cursed! It doesn’t matter whose wife she was!”

“But it does!” She took a deep breath. No need to make this a shouting match. “Your mother was carrying you before Makar took her away.” She gentled his arms down and looked into his wild eyes. “Tharius, please. Free us so that we can find the sorcerer. He needs to know the truth about his wife and his son. He can end this nightmare.” Or tell them for sure if Tharius was even under the curse.

“No.”

“What?” Had he understood anything she’d said?

“That man is
not
my father!” He pushed her away roughly, and she caught herself against a pillar. “And I will not let you go.”

“Tharius—”

“Leave!” He roared and tore at the morning glories twined around the pillars, pulling out great lengths and throwing them everywhere.

She ran. Yarrow had been right. She only hoped she hadn’t put Bay in danger.

Gwen and the girls met her at the edge of the clearing. “What is it? What happened?”

“I may have made a mistake.”

“Another one?” Melantha crossed her arms.

“Shut up,” Ivy said.

Everyone stared at her. She ducked her head and mumbled, “We all make mistakes.”

Melantha snorted and tugged Ivy’s braid. “Too true, Ivy-Blue. Sorry, Lily.”

Lily gave her a small smile. “We’re going home early tonight.”

“He didn’t react well to the news?” Neylan took Ivy’s hand as they left the clearing.

“You weren’t supposed to tell him,” Mara said, nearly tripping every other step on her skirts. The beaded train was ridiculous.

Lily picked up an armful of dress to lighten the load. “He didn’t believe me.”

“Did you ask him about Bay?” Hazel said.

“He’s angry and desperate, but he’s not stupid.” She tried to believe her own words. “He won’t hurt her.”

Tharius had taken the shortcut. She should have known he wouldn’t just let her go. She placed herself between him and the girls as they exited through the archway.

He approached within arm’s length. “I want you to wear this.” He held out his hand, palm up, to reveal his ring.

She took a step back, uncertain why he was willing to part with this reminder of his mother. “I’m not taking anything else from you.”

“No tricks.” He took two steps forward. “You wear his token.” He pointed at Eben’s ring. “I want you to wear mine.”

She made no move to take it.

“You intend to take me with you, then?” A spark of hope still lurked in his eyes.

She shook her head.

“Why, Lily?” he whispered. “I’ll say it first, if that’s what it takes.” He took another step closer. “I am in love with you.”

She didn’t want to hear this.

“He’s never said that, has he? And you know he won’t. No one will, except me.”

“Stop.”

He stopped talking, but he stepped forward, until she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze.

He slipped his ring onto her middle finger, and let go. For Bay’s sake, she wore it. Not for Tharius.

“Tell me why, Lily,” he said once more. “Why can you not accept me as I am?”

“There is darkness in you that frightens me.” She pressed her hand to her collarbone, a paltry barrier between them. Unfortunately, it was the hand with Eben’s ring.

“There is no such thing as darkness,” he said, anger deepening his voice. “There is only the absence of light. This cavernous night wraps me in unreality. Your light, your life will free me from this prison, set my feet on a new path.”

She took three steps back. “Your feet may one day travel a new path, Tharius. But if your heart remains in shadow, you will never see the light.” Two more steps. “No matter how the sun blazes.”

She left, and she didn’t turn back.

Wren fainted when they reached the fountain. The pendant, or exhaustion, it didn’t matter. Yarrow picked her up, and they filed back to their tower in silence.

“We’ll both be campin’ here tonight.” Yarrow flopped onto the nearest chair.

Relief washed over the girls’ faces, although there was nothing either of the men could do. Just having them near, knowing they weren’t alone, made Lily feel lighter than she had in days.

Eben remained on his feet as they plodded upstairs.

*

He was on his feet when Lily came down in the morning. He wore the same clothes, but his hair dripped and dampened his collar. He must have taken advantage of their private bathing room. She grinned. Living in the barracks, he’d always been jealous that they only had to share it among twelve.

“Mornin’.” Yarrow sat scribbling something at the table by the window. “Your father wants you out of the castle as soon as possible. Runson has some people stirred up about the decree, and you need to be out of sight.”

She grabbed her satchel. She’d already secured Melantha’s dagger around the blue dress she’d worn for her first trip to the goose field.

*

Orin and True greeted them under the tree.

“Nice ring,” Orin said, and then did a double-take. “Wait, that’s not
his
ring, is it?” He grabbed her hand and twisted her wrist around to get a good look. “It is. Eben, did you see this?”

“Yes.”

She should have known he would notice. The girls hadn’t said anything, either.

“I’d like to know why you’re wearing it, but I won’t ask.” Orin released her. “I don’t think you could explain that with a drawing.” He crossed his arms and sat on the boulder, stretching his legs out. “You’re not in more trouble, are you? I mean, this isn’t like . . . it’s not another curse, is it?”

She gave him her I’m-not-that-stupid look.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Just asking.” He scooted to the other side of the rock and slid down behind it, disappearing from sight. “I’ll be over here, reading to True, minding my own business.” True wandered off towards the flock. “Traitor,” the boulder mumbled.

Eben set off to patrol the field.

Lily settled on the ground to sketch the geese, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her throat ached with words wanting release. Each day, each hour, it grew more difficult to keep silent.

When her pencil broke the third time, she threw it into the grass and wandered to the pond. Half the girls had still been tangled in their blankets when she’d left the tower. Her heart ached at the thought of leading them back to the undergarden again tonight. She couldn’t do it.

She wouldn’t do it.

She would return to Tharius alone, and accept his offer to free her sisters. She would stay with him in the undergarden.

The weight of her decision knocked the breath out of her, and she sat hard in the grass. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her cheek on her knees. She wouldn’t be able to say goodbye, to explain, or someone might try to stop her. She could send a message back with Bay—Tharius would have to free the girl before Lily agreed to stay with him.

Gwen wouldn’t be pleased to be the new heir. She’d guess where Lily had gone. Neylan, too, and probably Eben. They would be frantic to save her, but if Tharius hadn’t found a way out, as powerful as he was, no one else would find a way in. Not if he didn’t want them to. She would keep them safe.

If they ever found Idris, then they could ask him to undo his curse. But until then, she wouldn’t put her sisters at risk any longer, and she wouldn’t allow Tharius into her kingdom.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she jumped, barely stifling a scream. The sooner she left, the better.

“Are you all right?” Orin sat beside her. True waddled over and shuffled around in the reeds.

She nodded but didn’t lift her head. When her family and her people were safe, she would be well.

After a few minutes, the grass rustled, and footsteps shushed back towards the tree as Orin gave her some privacy. She rocked side to side, eyes closed, trying to imagine what it would be like never to see the sun again, never to feel its warmth. How long would it take for the memories to fade?

Sometime later, the geese startled her from a doze, honking and flapping as someone approached the field. She dropped her knees and her hands fell into her lap. True, nestled against Lily’s hip, raised her neck to watch the commotion.