The Firethorn Crown (10 page)

“No one should.”

“No one?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, you have decided?” He leaned close, and the scent of oranges and jasmine wrapped around her.

“Decided?”

“To marry me. To release me from this curse.” When she didn’t answer right away, his voice rose. “To grant me freedom from the tyranny of a man I never met.”

She couldn’t say yes, but she feared what he might do if she said no. “Are you sure there’s no other way out?” He pulled his hands away, and she rushed on. “At least for me and my sisters. If we were free to speak to someone, we might be able to find help.”

“I told you already, my dear, you’re the only help I need.”

“But what about my sisters?”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

Of course she was.

“Or you’ve made up your mind to refuse me.” He stood. “You would trap me here, steal your sisters’ futures. You came to me in my despair, Lily. You are my hope. My light. The one I’ve been waiting for.” He lashed out at a bush, scattering leaves and twigs with a sweep of his arm. “This place killed my mother!” He stomped to the bridge and paced across its length.

Lily stayed on the bench, not trusting her legs to hold her, especially in the heavy leather gown. She gripped the edges of the rough stone on either side of her legs. Everything about this place was rough, or dark, or warped in some way. Even Prince Tharius. He was handsome. Alarmingly handsome, but there was a dangerous spark burning him from within. “Understand your enemies as well as you understand your friends,” Father once said. She wasn’t sure if Prince Tharius was her enemy or her friend, but she didn’t understand him.

“Lily, come dance with me!” Azure bounded up, covered from chin to wrist in deep, iridescent blue and in danger of losing half the peacock feathers on her skirt.

She stood, but hesitated.

Prince Tharius stopped pacing and stood with fists clenched at his sides. “Go then,” he said, and it sounded like a growl.

She went. “Azure, your gown is—”

“I know. It brings out my eyes.” Azure pulled her onto the floor and took the lead.

It had been too long since Lily had danced with her sisters. She wished the circumstances were different.

Azure lowered her voice, mimicking a previous partner. “‘I haven’t seen eyes so fair since our dear princess was alive.’”

Prince Tharius must have gotten all of his dark coloring from his father. She knew so little about him. If she wanted to understand him, she needed to find out more.

“Switch partners with me,” she said.

“What? Why?”

“I need to speak to some of his courtiers.”

“They’ll just compliment you until you want to stick a feather in their face.”

Ummm.

“It was an accident.” Azure plucked a feather from her gown and waved it. “Whoever makes these needs to take sewing lessons.”

“Just switch with me.”

“Looks like your fiancé has decided to join us.”

“He’s not my—” Oh, dear. He kind of was.

He and Hazel spun among the dancers, both real and shadow. While Coral added color to the undergarden, Hazel added light. Prince Tharius paid no heed to either. He watched only Lily.

Azure guided them near Mara and her partner, who eagerly took Lily into his arms. He said little, content to hold her too close and ogle. He stumbled a few times on her skirt, but he kept on, even when the music picked up speed.

“Your sisters are charming,” he said, wheezing. She could barely hear him over the invisible orchestra. “Good dancers.”

“Yes.” She’d better try to get something useful out of him before he fell outright or stepped on her feet. They were sore enough already. “His Highness is quite a good dancer, too. I suppose he learned from his mother.”

“Some.”

“It must have been difficult for her to raise a child in such an environment.”

“Didn’t do much raising. Dead and all that.” His foot caught in her skirt, but he hopped a little step and kept going.

“I saw his ring. He said she was very beautiful and kind, but I suppose he would think so.”

“She was beautiful. He’s much like her. Except his coloring.” He smirked, but quickly turned it into an over-polite baring of teeth and stopped dancing. He passed her off to Prince Tharius without uttering a word.

Prince Tharius studied her face as they danced, his thumb tracing across the leather at her waist. The music slowed, and he kept close as the girls drifted in and out of the shadows. She would have no chance to talk to them tonight. She had wasted her time with Azure, and she knew no more about the prince.

She lost count of the dances. If her feet could talk, they would tell her the exact number.

“You’ll want to leave soon.” His voice rumbled.

She said nothing.

“I hope you can overlook my outburst. I grow weary of my captivity.” He led her out of the candlelight and onto the path towards the archway.

In a few moments, the girls followed, but they kept their distance.

“I don’t know if you can understand what it’s like to have what I want so close and not be able to grasp it.”

She understood.

Prince Tharius took her hand off his arm and held it in his own, lacing their fingers together as they walked. It felt too intimate, and she wanted to pull away, but they had almost reached the broken gate.

“Don’t take too much time deciding you want what’s meant to be,” he said.

The girls passed them, wasting no time going through the archway. Prince Tharius let her go reluctantly, stretching his arm out to touch her as long as possible. When she reached the bend in the path, she looked back. He was gone.

She didn’t know much about sorcery, and she suspected he knew more than he let on, but she was determined to find a way out of this that didn’t require putting a sorcerer on the throne of Ituria.

Chapter Ten

T
he next morning, Lily donned the plainest dress she’d ever worn. Blue cotton, one layer, with wooden buttons up the front. She wore her own shift and boots and felt lighter and more comfortable than she had in weeks. She nibbled toast while Ruby braided her hair, but she refused the orange Coral offered.

“Here.” Gwen handed her a canvas satchel, grey with age. “Lunch.”

Lily adjusted the bag over her shoulder crosswise. Wren lifted the flap and tucked something in, and they descended to the sitting room.

“Take this.” Melantha passed over her belt and dagger.

“Why does she need that?” Hazel asked, picking up apple cores from their late-night snack. “Eben’s going with her.”

“In case she wants goose for lunch.” Melantha buckled the belt around Lily’s waist. “Can’t be too careful.”

It was for dragons, of course. They weren’t a particular threat around the city, but where helpless animals gathered, an isolated attack was always possible—not that a single dagger would help.

Neylan hugged her. “You can do this,” she whispered. She plucked a daisy from her hair and tucked it behind Lily’s ear before wandering out the door. Eben waited in the hallway.

Melantha brushed past her, shared a look with Eben that Lily couldn’t interpret, and then ran down the hall. “See you this evening!”

Eben met her gaze in silence. No greeting, no smile, but he looked a little less confused and hurt than he had yesterday. That was a good sign.

The kitchens provided the easiest route out of the palace. Few courtiers frequented that wing, and it was close to the guards’ gate. Some of the people they met offered hasty acknowledgments when they realized the plainly dressed girl was the crown princess, and some passed right by without a glance.

Runson appeared around a corner near the kitchens. She cringed. He was getting good at these accidental meetings.

“Lily!” He stopped short, his mouth hanging open.

Maybe some of the meetings really were accidental.

“What are you doing here?” He looked her up and down, frowning at her simple clothes. He wrinkled his nose at Eben, who was out of uniform but wearing a sword.

She didn’t answer, of course.

“On another date?”

“Her Highness’s business is her own.” Eben’s hands clenched at his sides, but his tone remained calm.

Her skin warmed. Eben rarely spoke to Runson, and never when on duty, although Runson didn’t know Eben was on duty at the moment.

Runson eyed Eben up and down, this time. He smirked. “No matter. I will see you later, Lily. I have—”

She walked away, not caring in the least what he had to say. He probably
would
see her later, but only because he wouldn’t keep his distance. She was thankful Eben had spoken up, another good sign that he wasn’t mad at her. Or maybe he was just doing his job. Could she ever be sure?

*

Lily and Eben wove through the streets of Eltekon, which celebrated under banners of emerald and clover, jade and pine, and all shades of green. Vendors opened their stalls, and Travelers rolled up the sides of their brightly-covered wagons in anticipation of the crowds. Already, the scent of lemon-poppy-seed rolls wafted on the breeze, and Lily’s mouth watered. She should be out here with Gwen or Neylan, sharing a bag of roasted almonds with cinnamon and buying silver hair combs they didn’t need. Last year, they had convinced Eben to join them on his day off. She still had the ring he’d given her, a piece of tin wire he’d found lying around and had wound and unwound around his finger all day. It was the only thing he’d ever given her, besides a book on her birthday each year.

He walked beside her now, strengthening her disguise. Strange, how she could hide among her own people simply by appearing in an unexpected way. The few guards they passed didn’t acknowledge Eben, and she was grateful. At the moment, she almost envied the soldiers and the citizens, wishing the choices she had to make were as normal as theirs.

The dirt road leading to the village bustled with revelers, but she couldn’t talk to anyone, couldn’t interact with them, or be a part of their lives, even for the few seconds it took to say
hello
. Already, she envied Prince Orin’s freedom. He would be eccentric, no doubt—a prince from a far-off kingdom tending geese for some other king.

By the time they reached the signpost for Three Mole Tree, the novelty of being anonymous had worn off, and Lily just felt lonely. She stopped and stared at the sign. She’d been to the village but had never had any reason to visit the goose sheds. Unsure which path to take, she shrugged, and a smile tugged at her mouth at the absurdity of the situation.

Eben responded with a small twitch of his lips. “This way.”

She resisted the urge to press her hands over her stomach, and instead forced them to swing comfortably at her sides. She wished she’d eaten either more, or nothing at all. Hopefully, this eccentric prince wouldn’t think her silence too odd. She could only imagine the tales he might tell the King of Gritton when he got home, and how it might reflect on Father. And herself.

A tall young man holding a white goose relaxed against the low wall surrounding the sheds. His trousers stopped inches above his ankles, his tunic sagged around his thin frame, and his straw-colored hair needed a wash. The bird’s keen eyes studied them, but it kept quiet. She didn’t know geese could be well-mannered, but she’d only met the ones who lived in the kitchen garden.

“Orin.” Eben nodded in greeting.

Oh. Apparently, princes could hide in plain sight, too.

“Eben.” The young man pushed off from the wall and placed the goose carefully on the ground. It plucked at the frayed hem of his tunic, grumbling in its throat.

Eben didn’t usually need to introduce her to people, but he spoke with confidence, as if he’d done it a hundred times. “May I present, Her Royal Highness Princess Lily, First Daughter and Crown Princess of Ituria.”

Orin approached with a smile, his teeth as white as his goose, and shook her offered hand, rather than kissing it or bowing over it. She liked him already. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” He grabbed a bow and quiver from the wall, slung them over his back, and picked up his staff from the ground. Melantha needn’t have worried about dragons.

He picked up his goose last, and it quieted. “This one’s True. She’s got a bad foot, can’t walk all the way.” Whistling and waving the staff along the ground, he shooed the other geese out from the walled enclosure and led them down a narrow dirt lane. “It’s not far.”

They passed well-tended fields of lavender and an apple orchard. Orin waved to a goatherd grazing his animals at the side of the road. Farther on, they came across a scene much like her favorite tableau in the topiary garden. The shepherdess milked one of her sheep, while the black woolly who had adopted the flock perched on another, waiting eagerly for the treat, wings twitching. Lily inhaled the green scents and relaxed. She might get through this day okay, after all, and she might even figure out what to do about her impossible predicament.

Orin stopped at a field far larger than his small flock could need, but the geese recognized it. They flapped and waddled eagerly into the sea of grass. A few wandered over to a small pond. Orin settled on a boulder underneath a tree and patted the rock beside him.

“Join me.” He put True down to graze and laid his bow and staff nearby.

She sat down, tossed her satchel on the grass, and twisted her fingers in her dress. Eben scouted the edge of the woods that surrounded the field and then returned to take a position near the boulder. She couldn’t remember when she’d had a day like this. No duties, no expectations, no crowds. Orin had this every day. Did he get lonely, too?

“We don’t have fields like this in Frits.” He stretched out his legs. “Even our geese learn to climb mountains.”

Eben snorted.

“You think I’m kidding, but you should see the steps leading to some of the man-made fields. If that’s not mountain climbing, I don’t know what is.” Orin kept his eyes on the geese, which was oddly comforting.

Lily felt no pressure to add to the conversation.

“This one’s friendly,” Eben said. True pecked at Eben’s boots, and Eben shifted, trying to discourage the bird. It didn’t work.

“She’s mine. Or I’m hers.” Orin pulled a handful of grass and threw it at True’s head. The goose honked at him, but she gave up on the boots and waddled towards the pond. “She’s a strange old bird. Found her in the forest on my way through Osha. No flock. I guess she thinks I’m it.”

Orin continued to talk about his home in the mountainous city of Frits, his six older stepbrothers, his older brother, and his baby sister, who wasn’t a baby anymore; but as the only girl in the family, everyone favored her, including him, so she might as well be. Lily enjoyed listening to him, and she lost track of time as he told story after story of a life that involved far fewer responsibilities than she’d ever known.

He stopped in the middle of recounting his sister’s first experience on horseback. “I’m talking too much. I know I am. Shall I read? Wait!” He stood and waved his hands in front of him, eyes wide in panic.

Eben tensed.

“You don’t have to answer that! Ugh. Sorry. Princess Melantha told me not to ask you any questions.” He patted his throat. “Your voice. Uh . . . I’ll just read then. True likes for me to read.”

She smiled, and he wilted with relief. She wondered what Melantha had threatened him with if he failed to do as she asked.

He pulled out a small book tucked into the quiver with the arrows and sat with his back against the boulder. True waddled back over and settled on the grass at Lily’s feet as Orin read. It was a history book; one of the most boring ones to be found in either the public or royal library.

Orin stopped reading after two pages and checked the cover, mumbling something about giving better instructions to servant boys sent to fetch books. “Sorry.” He continued in a more animated manner, doing voices and adding sounds in inappropriate places.

She managed not to laugh, but when he tried to bark like an entire pack of dogs, she pinched herself hard, stretched, and indicated that she was going for a walk. Orin kept reading to True.

She slung her satchel over her shoulder and wandered over to the edge of the woods. Eben joined her, his posture relaxed, and they made their way around the perimeter. The sun warmed her back, the top of her head, her arms. Sweat beaded under her braid and tickled its way down to her collar.

Prince Tharius had never known such warmth. What she took for granted was the stuff of his daydreams and longings. She might safeguard her sisters by spending her days in seclusion, but she wouldn’t solve any problems this way. She was hiding, and she knew it.

Eben wouldn’t approve. He’d never hidden from anything. He was here now, even knowing she was keeping something from him. Come to think of it, he’d been around a lot lately. The captain was flexible with the guards’ schedules, but he usually assigned personal guards more evenly. She was glad she couldn’t ask about it now, hesitant to have the situation corrected. She’d always enjoyed having Eben around, even if their interactions were limited when he was on duty. His visits to the library had become less frequent, or maybe it was her own visits, as her responsibilities slowly increased year after year.

She wouldn’t let herself imagine what it would be like to have him by her side always. Prince Tharius wasn’t the only one with daydreams out of reach. Eben was a guard, an orphan, a nobody. She’d heard the words often enough, and she repeated them to herself as they skirted the forest. It didn’t work. She still didn’t believe it. He was one of the best friends she’d ever had, and she would lose him soon. One way or another. Maybe he felt it, too. The ending of something they’d never been able to admit they had. Maybe that’s why he was showing up more. Maybe he was trying to say goodbye the only way he could.

“We have a following.”

Five geese waddled behind them, easily keeping up. She dug in the satchel, her hand bumping against something that was not lunch. Her sketchbook—Wren’s contribution. That would keep her occupied for the afternoon. She gave Eben some bread, and they crumbled it into the grass for the birds. She tossed down the wilted daisy for dessert.

Orin was eating when they returned to the boulder, but he didn’t refuse when Lily offered to share her own food. Gwen had packed enough for three.

True devoured some radish tops and then settled in to sleep; but a moment later, her nap was interrupted by honking and hissing near the woods. She watched the other geese flap their way to the pond, surely making enough noise to scare off whatever had scared them. Unimpressed, she tucked her head back under her wing.

Eben gripped his sword.

Orin popped the last radish into his mouth. “It’s probably just a hopper.”

Lily grinned. The squirrel-sized dragons were certainly no threat to geese, but they could be noisy jumping among the canopy.

“Gets them every time, but I’ve never actually
seen
one,” Orin said.

“They taste good with mushrooms,” Eben said.

Ew.

While the boys discussed snaring techniques, she flipped through her book, not sure if this was the one with the sketch of the tree hopper. It was, and she’d taken the time to color it. Eben had been her guard that day, too, and had noted how pale the hopper was, a lettuce-green. She held the book up and tapped it to get their attention.

“May I see it?” Orin said, and then smacked himself in the forehead. “Sorry! No questions. Sorry.”

She smiled to let him know it was okay and handed him the book.

He puffed out a relieved sigh and studied the picture. “I didn’t realize they were so small. What a bunch of chickens I’m herding.”

True twitched in her sleep as if she’d heard the insult. Lily stroked her soft wings while Orin flipped through the pages. She seldom got past the doodling stage, and most of these sketches were for stories she had translated for the girls. Something caught Orin’s attention.