The Firethorn Crown (11 page)

“A red dragon?” He tilted the book for her to see and didn’t seem to notice that he’d asked her a question again.

She bit her cheeks to keep from smiling. She’d drawn Melantha riding one of the wingless red dragons from Xafila and brandishing a sword in a downpour. She’d been practicing the rain effect that day, having never seen a red dragon in person, but she was sure Orin wasn’t interested in either of those things.

Melantha wouldn’t be pleased, and Lily wouldn’t be the one to tell her. And not just because she couldn’t speak.

Eben had other things on his mind. “Lily, you can’t speak, but can you write?”

She froze. Neylan hadn’t been able to write anything but gibberish. Could
she
write something? Even nonsense? It might alert Eben to something being wrong. But if she tried, and the curse interpreted her actions as trying to speak, then she’d doom her sisters to life underground. She couldn’t risk it. Tears stung her eyes.

She shook her head, took the book from Orin, and started sketching True.

Eben said nothing. He stalked off to the woods where the geese had started their commotion and then made a round of the field. Orin joined him at the pond. She heard snatches of their conversation, enough to know that Melantha had spoken to both of them. Apparently, she’d warned them to keep their questions to themselves. About everything.

The afternoon passed quietly. Lily fell asleep for a short time. Later, Orin led them back to the goose sheds and bid them goodbye. She gave him the sketch of the tree hopper and the one of Melantha and the red dragon and was rewarded with his bright smile. She hoped her evening would be as untroubled.

The guard at the gate dashed that idea. Mother wanted to see her again.

Chapter Eleven

What have I
done
now?

Lily had been in a field all day, trying to save her country from being ruled by a sorcerer with questionable sanity and trying to save her sisters from a life of darkness. Or, at the very least, trying to stay out of trouble so she didn’t doom everyone. How could she keep facing people—especially her mother—if she couldn’t explain what was going on? Even to herself. She couldn’t
do
anything. She wanted to punch something.

She entered the king’s study, and Eben stationed himself outside.

Mother stood gazing out the window with her arms wrapped around her middle. The Guardian River sparkled yellow and orange, purple and blue in the setting sun, painting her face and hair with a rosy glow. She didn’t turn around.

Lily had no one to speak for her, no one to make excuses. This could only end badly.

Mother didn’t ask about her day, how she felt. No small talk.

“I wish Brido was here,” she whispered.

Father wouldn’t be home for days.

“Even Millicent.”

Grandmother? She’d retired years ago and seldom visited anymore.

“They would know what to do right now.”

Did Mother know Lily was in the room?

Lily understood, as all the girls did without talking about it much, that Mother’s mental state wasn’t the best this time of year. She wished she could take back her harsh words from the other day, or even apologize. She agreed with Mother about one thing—Father would know what to do.

Unsure what Mother wanted, she stepped further into the room.

“We have to be the strong ones, Lily.” Her voice fell soft like the fading light. “We have to make the choices in the end. Your father has given you time beyond tradition to choose who you will have rule beside you. He would give you more. As much as you want, but . . .”

Mother pressured him the most for her to choose a husband. Did she want a grandson so desperately? Or did she doubt Lily’s ability to do what she’d been trained to do?

Mother turned, arms by her side, hands clenched. “We have to make the choices, but we must always consider the greater good. Many decisions you make will be difficult. You’ll agonize over them and wish you could pass the burden off to someone else. But some are easy, Lily. So easy that we start doubting if it’s the right choice.”

Her gaze slipped past Lily to the door. Or to something beyond. “Sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference.”

The silence ran on until Mother’s attention snapped back to Lily, and her voice hardened. “Have you nothing to say?”

Lily shook her head.

Mother closed her eyes long enough to take a deep breath. “Lord Runson informed me of his meeting with you and Prince Holic in the gardens yesterday. He’s under the impression that you are playing hard-to-get and insists that if he had time with you as Prince Holic had, that he would not fail to win your hand.”

Oh, dear. She clenched her hands to hide the trembling.

“Since you have not seen fit to face him, I can only assume that you’re undecided in the matter. Can you give me a reason to put him off once and for all?”

How could she respond? A simple “yes” or “no” wouldn’t be enough here. Mother would throw her to the wolves. Or wolf. How could Lily refuse Runson, if it came to it? He would take her silence as acceptance, probably make the announcement then and there, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. What would Prince Tharius do? She couldn’t tie herself to anyone with the curse in place.

“Have you
still
nothing to say?”

Lily’s breaths came too quickly, but she made no move.

“I’m beginning to wonder if there is some truth to the rumors that you intend to never make this choice, to remain unwed and pass the crown to Gwen and any children she may have.”

She’d never told anyone that!

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “Your father has been too indulgent with you,” she muttered and returned to the window.

Lily waited. She fiddled with Melantha’s dagger, adjusted the satchel, wiggled her feet in the hot boots. She counted to one hundred.

Mother turned slowly and locked her gaze on Lily. She spoke with authority. “I expect to hear an announcement of your betrothal at The Starlight Ball.”

That was in four days! She shook her head vehemently, all warmth draining from her body.

“Have you anything to say!” Mother came as close to shouting as Lily had ever heard.

She stilled, and a single tear escaped past her lashes. She hated this. She could make any decision she wanted about anything right now, but she couldn’t tell anyone.

“
Say
something, Lily. Anything! This childish behavior has gone on long enough. Give me some indication that you understand what I’m asking of you.”

Lily stared at her feet, barely nodding her head.

“You will inform me of your decision before the ball. You are dismissed.”

Lily’s legs were leaden. Father would never behave this way. Under normal circumstances,
Lily
would never behave this way, either. Understanding Mother’s frustration didn’t help.

The door closed, and she stopped with no memory of walking out. The carpet here was wearing thin. They should have it replaced soon. She plucked a white feather from her bootlace.

“Your Highness? Are you okay?”

Eben was here. Of course, he was; his shift hadn’t ended. He ducked his head to meet her eyes.

A few tears escaped before she could stop them.

He stepped close and handed her a frayed handkerchief. “Lily, what’s wrong? What is it?”

She let out a frustrated breath and shrugged, flapping her arms out helplessly and letting them fall. She wanted so badly to
tell
him. She wiped her tears and put the cloth in her satchel.

Eben seemed to remember Melantha’s instructions about questions. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. Except for the guards, the hallway was empty. Where would the girls be right now? It was too early for bed. Maybe the dining hall. Or out in the city watching fire jugglers or burning their mouths on hot meat pies. Mara might be in the kitchens.

Eben anticipated her next move. “Why don’t I take you to the kitchens? Get you some hot tea. Or soup.”

A smile was too difficult right now. She let him lead the way.

*

They slid onto the bench in their usual corner by the windows. Even on duty, Eben joined them for supper. He’d said once that the kitchens were the safest place in the palace. Over a dozen well-armed women, not to mention a butcher popping in from time to time, and a few poker-laden lads were enough to deter all but the craziest adversaries.

Mara fetched hot soup and cold sandwiches, and then removed her apron and hurried off to the dining hall.

Coral, Azure, Ivy, and the twins sat at the table already. Coral and Azure chatted about their visit to the city. Ruby and Wren interrupted frequently with questions; they’d cut their hair to hide the bruises on their foreheads.

“Are you okay?” Ivy whispered next to her, stirring a nearly-full bowl of soup.

Lily squeezed Ivy’s hand under the table and managed a lopsided smile, shrugging her shoulders—the best reassurance she could give her at the moment. She listened to the conversation politely, aware that the little girl kept stealing glances at her. Eben watched her, too.

She took her notebook out and sketched idly. A maid placed another candle on the table. Azure told a story about a flurry of honeysucklers that had descended on a sweets stall, demonstrating with her hand until she knocked over her water glass.

Lily lifted her book before the spill reached her.

Ivy squeaked, her spoon clattering into her bowl and splashing them with tepid soup. She shook, staring at the sketchbook.

Lily dropped the book as if she’d been scalded. Glaring at her from the paper was the gazebo, the one with the black morning glories. It could have been any gazebo, but it wasn’t, and Ivy knew it. So did the other girls. She half listened as they struggled for words to discuss it. She hadn’t fainted, but she didn’t know if that was a good sign. Brows furrowed, Eben chewed the last bite of his sandwich. He often said he didn’t understand half the things girls got excited about.

Wren went too far looking for words and passed out, slumping against Coral’s shoulder. Lily’s muscles unknotted. The curse was still in force. No one would be stuck in the undergarden. Yet. Ruby slid off the bench, and Eben picked up her limp sister. She looked tiny in his arms.

Lily shoved the sketchbook into her satchel.

Eben followed them to the tower and into the sitting room, where he laid Wren on the couch. “Can I send a maid, or something?”

Lily shook her head. She managed a smile this time.

“We’ll be fine.” Coral untied Wren’s boots. “Too much excitement today.”

Not to mention last night, and the night before that.

“I’ll be on duty for another hour.” He spoke to Lily. “If you need anything.”

She nodded, not breaking eye contact.

He lingered, as if he wanted to say something more. He even opened his mouth, but Azure called and interrupted him. He bowed and left.

Ruby wiped her sister’s brow, and Wren roused a bit. She blinked, sat up too quickly, and grabbed her head with a groan. “I fainted again?”

She didn’t need an answer.

“I’m sorry. I was so excited to see the—”

“Shhh!” Ruby and Coral said.

“I was gonna say
thing
.”

Azure paced behind the couch. “Let’s see it again.”

Lily tore the page from her sketchbook and gave it to Ruby.

Azure leaned over to see. She inspected the drawing and then dashed to the table, returning with a pencil and mostly-clean sheet of paper. Ruby traded with her and started doodling.

Wren squinted at the paper as lines took shape. “It’s the—”

“Shhh!” Coral warned again.

Wren slumped and pressed her lips together. She’d recognized the archway. Ruby added the rusted hinges and the mist, so it couldn’t be mistaken.

Hope shone in the girls’ faces. This might be the answer to their problems.

The door opened. “Wren fainted?” Mara said.

Lily gestured for her to join them around the couch. Neylan and Junia followed. The girls explained as best they could what had happened, and the excitement grew.

Melantha entered as the sketches were passed around. She smelled delicious, like butter and cinnamon. Her snarled hair and red cheeks said she’d just run in from somewhere.

“Here.” She thrust a paper bag into Lily’s hands. “What’s going on?”

The girls began again, and Lily explored the contents of the bag. Roasted almonds with cinnamon. Still warm. She scooped out a handful, passed the bag to Ivy, and then settled over by the window to enjoy the moment. It felt almost festive after the past few days, and she didn’t want to risk accidentally joining in on the conversation.

She closed her eyes. Her heart felt full of bubbles. She could explain things to Mother through sketches. Somehow. Mother would change her mind. She would take back what she’d said, and everything would turn out all right.

The door opened. Gwen and Hazel listened to the news and examined the sketches. After a few minutes, Gwen joined Lily in exile.

“Ivy is pretty perceptive, you know.” Gwen knelt by her chair. “I wish you could tell me what’s wrong. I mean, besides the obvious. Can you draw me a picture?”

She thought for a moment how she might convey Mother’s order to choose a husband by the night of The Starlight Ball. It was too complicated for her small talent, so she shook her head. She’d tell them tonight.

“Is it anything to do with Mother?”

She nodded.

“Mother was in a mood during supper. She excused herself earlier than usual, even for this time of year. Runson followed her out.”

Lily clasped Gwen’s hands, willing her to understand.

“Runson?”

Lily nodded.

“There’s a problem, and it has something to do with Mother
and
Runson?”

More nodding.

“I can’t imagine what the connection is, other than what we already know. I’m sorry.”

Lily smiled to let her know it was okay, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace. She offered her some almonds.

Gwen popped one in her mouth and hugged Lily tight. “We’ll figure this out. The sketches are good news.”

“Slippers,” Coral announced. From under a corner table, she produced a basket overflowing with wispy silken scraps that passed for fashionable footwear these days. “They arrived this afternoon.”

Junia tended to blisters and sores with her creams. Everyone had a complaint, with Junia’s and Melantha’s being the worst. Junia had danced under the lights for the duration each night, and Melantha was paying the price for dancing in boots. Twice.

Lily tied on her slippers, barely noting the color or delicate stitching. They wouldn’t last for more than two or three nights, and the girls couldn’t keep ordering slippers indefinitely. But she wouldn’t think about that. If the sketches worked, she wouldn’t have to think about it at all.

She gathered the drawings and held them aloft until she got everyone’s attention. She mimed sealing her lips and pointed out the window to the maze.

Gwen voiced Lily’s instructions. “Don’t mention the drawings to . . . anyone . . . tonight.”

Lily didn’t trust Prince Tharius enough to tell him about their discovery, yet.

She gathered the girls, and they slipped out of the tower as they had the previous night. Eben had left two guards again. Still, it was too easy, and Lily almost wished they would be stopped and questioned.

Melantha lit the candle when they reached the maze, and they followed the floating light down the hidden passageway and the stairs. Lily counted to one hundred this time, distracted at last by the cold seeping through her slippers. She might as well be barefoot.

Prince Tharius waited near the archway, close enough for her to see the tenseness around his eyes. She wondered if the broken gate was his doing. She let the girls go through first this time and marveled again at their transformations. Dark tones ruled, except for Ivy’s smoky grey. Coral could have used some extra lace this time, her plum gown plunging in a low V, but no one had time to offer extra covering before the white-haired gentlemen swept in and took them away.