The Firethorn Crown (16 page)

Holic shook out his hands, but didn’t comment on his actions, reminding her of Eben again. He fixed his gaze straight ahead and offered her his arm, ignoring the curious onlookers, and they continued on their way.

Once they had passed into a less-crowded street, she glanced at him, a smile still playing at the edges of her lips.

He winked. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

She would have to tell the girls tonight. Melantha would laugh hysterically, like Lily wanted to do now. Hazel would be mortified outwardly, but she’d be secretly pleased that Holic had stood up for her sister.

Not only had he stood up for her, but he’d taken the sting out of the men’s words. It still hurt. She’d known rumors were flying, but she had been unprepared to come face to face with them in such a way. More rumors would circulate soon, once Mother’s decree went public.

All desire to laugh drained from her as quickly as it had come. Surely Eben had found Yarrow by now.

Chapter Sixteen

C
louds smeared the sky, stealing the sun bit by bit, liars with no intention of keeping promises. Feeling the weight of them, Lily leaned on Holic as they walked.

He hummed an unfamiliar marching song, increasing the tempo as they neared The Tree, and she concentrated on the rhythm, placing her feet in time with his like a dance. When she nudged him onto the path towards the goose field, he stopped, and the weight returned.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with you and your sisters,” Holic said, “or if it’s family business that I need to keep out of, but if I can help somehow, please let me know.”

She patted his hand in thanks.

“Not because I want . . . you know . . . the queen’s offer.” His face turned red again. She’d never seen Melantha, or Mara, or even Coral, the true redhead, blush as much as Holic did. “Not that I wouldn’t be honored to marry any one of you. Except the younger ones, of course. I mean . . . ”

Unintentionally, he’d uncovered her smile again. He really was adorable. She wished she could reassure him that she understood. Perhaps her own expression said more than she realized, because he grinned and shut up.

Orin met them at the road and acknowledged Holic with a nod. They must have met before. “Love what you’ve done to your hair, Eben.” His light words didn’t hide his concern. He knew a royal guard wouldn’t leave his post lightly. “What’s happened?”

Holic waited for Lily’s permission before explaining as they walked to the boulder. He didn’t mention the part where he introduced two soldiers to the streets of Eltekon.

“Who’s Yarrow?” Orin asked.

“Ivy’s bodyguard.”

“Ivy has a bodyguard? Why don’t any of the other princesses have bodyguards?”

“She . . . well, they . . . I don’t know.” Holic eyed True warily and sat next to Lily. “The point is that Yarrow used to be a sorcerer.”

“Whoa! What?”

“He’s a good man.”

Lily wondered what Yarrow had done to gain Holic’s trust. Most people never gave him a chance.

“So, Eben’s gone off to find this former sorcerer . . . why?”

“I don’t know.”

Orin turned to her. “Do you know?”

She shrugged and nodded at the same time.
Maybe?

Holic sighed. “I wish I knew what was going on.”

“You and me both.” Orin took up his staff and began a mock sword fight with the tree.

Lily slid down the boulder into the grass and leaned back. She had no sketchbook, no food, and no answers to anything. She closed her eyes. True settled on her lap, and she stroked the goose’s feathers, only half listening as Holic recounted the queen’s new decree.

Orin smacked his staff hard against the tree. “Who would want to get a bride that way?”

“There’s one I can think of.”

Oh, please don’t say his name. She wanted to forget about her date with him later.

“Who?”

“Me.”

What! She wasn’t asleep. Did he think she was asleep?

Orin snorted, taking it as a joke.

“I’m serious,” Holic said. “If I can figure out what’s going on, I can decline the queen’s offer. She didn’t say the person
had
to marry one of the princesses. She said they
could
.”

Hazel would be impressed. Lily was impressed.

“Hadn’t thought of that.” A loud
crack
, and then two thuds sounded out in the field. Orin
really
didn’t like the idea of someone else marrying . . . a princess. “Count me in.”

“I think we can count on Eben, too. And Yarrow.”

“Even better.”

She squeezed her eyes closed tighter, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn’t deserve their friendship. She should solve her own problems, and she would, somehow. Still, she was grateful to know she wasn’t alone.

True woke her sometime later, scrabbling off her lap and hobble-flapping towards Eben.

“You’re wanted at the palace.” Eben’s voice was flat, controlled, but his mouth betrayed his displeasure. He knew about her date with Runson. He produced a handful of grapes and fed them to True as Lily brushed herself off. She could tell he’d found Yarrow by the way he avoided her gaze, but he wouldn’t talk about it where the others might hear. Not yet.

“I’m coming, too.” Using his bow in place of the broken staff, Orin rounded up the geese. Holic helped, now that he was off guard duty.

After they’d settled the geese into their sheds in the village, Holic asked, “You’re not bringing that goose to The Masked Ball, are you?”

“Ha. No.” Orin tucked True under his arm. “She
is
coming to the palace, though. She’ll stay in the kitchen gardens, and I’ll stay in a suite.”

Holic and Orin took their leave at the palace. Lily headed straight for the gardens, taking a shortcut down a side hall. She wanted to get this over with. Her stomach rumbled. And get some food.

“Aren’t you going to change?” Eben asked.

Lily plucked at her dress and twirled, raising her hands in a
ta-da!
at the end.

“You’re right. That’s the perfect outfit for tea with Runson.”

She smiled, delighted that he had guessed her meaning. If only he could read the other thoughts she had trouble putting into words.

Footsteps and voices sounded behind them. She tensed, grabbed Eben’s arm, and pulled him behind a heavy tapestry just ahead.

Runson hadn’t made it to the gardens, yet, either.

This was silly. They would be together in a few minutes, anyway.

She could barely see Eben, wrapped in the fabric as they were. She folded her hands at her chin, and Eben encircled her with his arms so that she rested against them instead of the wall. Her heartbeat drowned out the footsteps in the hall.

Eben’s chest rose and fell evenly. She held her breath. Runson’s yammering passed near their sanctuary and then faded into the distance.

They should probably get out from behind the tapestry. Instead, she turned her head a few inches and pressed her ear against Eben’s tunic. His heart kept time with hers, and his arms tightened around her shoulders. For the first time since she’d found the undergarden, she felt safe. She could tell him right now. He would say the words back, and everything would be okay. But this moment was an illusion. As soon as she stepped back into the hall, he would be her guard, obedient to the king and his calling. She couldn’t trust her sisters’ futures to a
maybe
.

She pushed against his chest almost imperceptibly, and he let go. He swept the tapestry aside, and they blinked like startled owls in the sun. She couldn’t
ask
him about Yarrow, but he might talk, now that no one was around.

Except that, once again, footsteps overtook them, soft but unmistakable: Melantha. And someone else keeping pace.

Melantha rounded the corner with Orin in tow, True still tucked securely into his side. He looked bewildered and dazzled all at once.

And no wonder. Melantha had poured what little there was of her into a pale yellow dress with wispy sleeves and a flowing skirt, reminding Lily of a delicate freckled flower. Beneath her circlet, braids within braids hung down her back, threaded with golden ribbons. A thin gold band defined her waist.

Melantha grabbed True and passed her off to Eben, her sleeve falling off her shoulder. She swiped it back into place. “There. Now Orin can escort us both properly.”

Orin hastened to offer them both an arm. “We’re crashing your tea party. Hope you don’t mind.”

Fighting a grin, she shook her head, both amused and concerned. She welcomed their company, but Runson would
not
be pleased.

“If I’d known you weren’t going to change,” Melantha said, “I wouldn’t have bothered to dress up.”

She was teasing, of course. She’d done it to take attention off Lily, an enormous gesture on her part.

“Are you kidding? You’re amazing!” Orin offered the compliment unabashedly.

Melantha’s face reddened, which made her appear sunburned under the freckles. Orin didn’t seem to notice.

When they reached the butterfly gazebo, Runson seethed at a table that had been set for a party rather than an intimate tea for two. He caught sight of them and stood, nearly toppling his chair. His jaw tensed, and he folded his arms, refusing to greet them with a bow. He couldn’t send them away. Even the scruffy goose boy outranked him.

Melantha let go of Orin and swept into the gazebo, making a show of inspecting the table and choosing a seat. “This is cozy.” She turned to Lily. “Just like your date with Holic?”

“Not amusing,” Runson muttered.

All of this could have been avoided with a little communication. But Tharius hadn’t meant for Lily to succeed.

She stepped quickly to Runson’s side and waited for him to help her into her seat, hoping to placate him enough that he wouldn’t complain and upset Mother again. She smiled, but he didn’t return it. He held her chair and then stood stiffly until Melantha was seated.

Viv emerged from the foliage to pour the tea. Eben gently placed True on the stones before taking a position by the gazebo entrance. With a subdued honk, True chased a bee into some hydrangea bushes. The goose wouldn’t wander far.

“Was
that
necessary?” Runson wrinkled his nose at the vanishing bird.

“What?” Orin feigned ignorance. “She doesn’t usually go after bees. I suppose she wanted to keep our fair ladies safe.”

With nothing else to do, Lily shooed a butterfly and piled strawberries and cream onto her plate. Orin kept Runson occupied with talk about his brothers, his sister, and the types of butterflies he’d seen in his travels. Melantha asked questions and told a few stories, as well.

Runson stuffed his face in sullen silence.

Lily was finishing her third scone when Hazel and Holic arrived. As usual, Hazel outshone everyone. Her dress matched the brooding clouds, its silver embroidery winking in the spotty sunlight. Like Melantha, she wore her circlet. They must have planned this to remind Runson not to mess around with the royal family. What was his power next to theirs?

Honestly, it was quite impressive. His family had few true allies, but they were very rich.

Runson’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his teacup, and brown liquid splashed over the edge as he set it down.

“Apologies for interrupting,” Hazel said. “I need to collect my sisters so we can get ready for The Masked Ball.”

“Of course.” He stood and bowed, knowing when he was outnumbered.

Lily rose, and he grabbed her arm before she passed by. His nails dug into her skin.

“The queen will hear about this,” he whispered with a whine in his voice. He didn’t see Holic approach from behind.

Eben turned to face them with his hand on his sword. The thunder in his eyes made Runson’s anger look like a temper tantrum.

Holic grabbed Runson’s wrist and squeezed until he let go of her. “I don’t think she will. Or I will hear about it.”

Eben’s anger didn’t abate, but he looked at Holic with respect. And something else. Jealousy?

He had feelings for her. She knew it. But what good did it do, if he wouldn’t admit it?

Runson sneered at Holic before speaking to Lily. “You’ll save me the first dance, of course.”

“You’ll excuse her, of course,” Holic said. “The princess has promised the first dance to me.” He pushed Runson down into his seat hard enough that it almost toppled backwards.

She took Holic’s offered arm, wilting with relief. Hopefully, the veiled threat would keep Runson from running to Mother with news of the disaster.

Melantha fetched True from the bushes, heedless of the dirt that spattered her dress. Orin beamed as if the goose had just sprinkled her with diamonds. The two left towards the kitchen gardens.

Holic escorted Lily and Hazel to their tower and bid them goodbye until the evening. Still on guard, Eben positioned himself along the wall. Before the door closed, his eyes met Lily’s briefly, full of words he wouldn’t say.

Gwen marched Lily straight to the bathing room. “Please scrub off all the goose stench.”

The girls all knew of Mother’s decree. Father might even know about it by now, if someone had thought to send a fast paper dragon. Maybe it would spur him home sooner. Things couldn’t be falling apart any worse where he was. They needed him here.

Lily toweled her hair as she trudged up the stairs. Her feet stung, and a new blister throbbed on her big toe. She had been looking forward to the balls, especially The Soldier’s Ball tomorrow.

Tonight’s Masked Ball was held in remembrance of the kingdoms’ common enemy during the Dragon Wars. It was a time to be free and fierce, to revel in their power. To
be
the dragons. But The Soldier’s Ball was in remembrance of the soldier-king, the man who had earned the right to wear Ituria’s first Firethorn Crown. Dragon soldiers and other guards drew lots every year to decide who would attend. This would be Eben’s third ball and the first since he’d recovered from his pit dragon injury.

“I’ll do your hair.” Ruby took the towel. “Up, or down?”

Lily gave her a thumbs up, and Ruby twisted and pinned the damp strands.

Mara and Junia sat gowned and masked in silver-green silk. Junia had requested a touch of pink for her first ball, even though it wasn’t strictly a dragon color, so Ivy had embroidered delicate scales on the bodice, dark enough to be almost red.

“Get your feathers out of my face.” From her position on the floor, Melantha swatted at Hazel’s hem as she passed by. The twins had done her braids tight enough to hold through afternoon tea and a night of dancing, but they wouldn’t last if she stayed down there long.

Hazel ignored her and sat at a dressing table to tie on her mask, an ivory satin band that barely covered her eyes. She’d chosen snow dragon colors, uncommon for The Masked Ball, since shades of white were usually reserved for the last night. Then again, Hazel was anything but common. Some of the skirts’ feathers had been dusted with gold.

“Remember everything, so you can tell us later.” Coral couldn’t wait to join them next year.

Neylan had done this once already. She stood at a window, her hair coiled on top of her head. A sleeping butterwing lay curled there as if in a nest, matching almost too perfectly with her brown-and-yellow gown. Even Hazel had stopped telling Neylan that wearing dragons was inappropriate.