The First Crown

The Morning After

Lilliana

Sunlight spilled across my chamber when I woke, bright enough to make me shield my eyes. For a moment I didn’t know why my heart was racing, why my mouth curved in a smile before I had even opened my eyes fully.

The kiss.

I pressed my fingers to my lips, as though the memory might still be warm there. It was a soft ache that spread through my whole chest until I laughed, muffling the sound against my pillow.

I had kissed Reade Ashford. No — he had kissed me. And the world had not ended.

I sat up, giddy with the thought, and dressed quickly, choosing a gown of pale green that made my hair gleam like gold in the glass. The stones of the keep felt softer beneath my feet, the very air seemed lighter.

Evelyne was still abed, cocooned in blankets, but Maren was up already, humming to herself as she plaited her hair before the mirror. She spun when she saw me, her face alight.

“Lillie, isn’t it perfect?” she said breathlessly. “The weather’s clear, the steward says there will be three whole tables just for sweets, and they’ve brought out the good cider from the cellars the spiced kind! Evelyne says there will be dancing until dawn and Father promised a bonfire so big we’ll feel it from the keep steps.”

Her excitement was so bright it almost made me laugh again. “All that?”

“All that,” she said, nodding so hard her plait slipped over her shoulder. “I’ve decided I want blue ribbons for tonight, the dark kind that will shine in the firelight. And I’m going to dance every single set, even if I have to pull one of the guards onto the floor.”

I tried to smile, to match her mood, but my heart was still back in the shadows, still pounding with the memory of Reade’s mouth on mine.

“You look different,” Maren said suddenly, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Do I?” I tried to keep my voice light, busying myself with the ties of my sleeve, but my cheeks betrayed me.

“You’re smiling,” she accused, delighted.

“I’m allowed to smile,” I said, but the sound that left me was softer than I intended, dreamy around the edges.

Maren’s grin widened, but she only said, “Good. You don’t smile enough.” And then she was off again, chattering about which flowers she might steal from the garlands for her hair and which boy might try to kiss her after the dancing.

I let her voice wash over me, my mind still tangled up in the memory of last night.

Maren’s chatter carried us down the stair, her hand hooked through my arm as she listed everything she wanted to eat and drink before nightfall. My own steps felt light, buoyed by something I dared not name.

The great hall was already a hive of activity. Servants bustled back and forth with trays of bread and wheels of cheese, polishing tankards until they shone. The long tables had been dragged into place, waiting to be dressed for the feast.

Father stood near the hearth, a goblet in hand, cloak thrown back to show the green and gold of Lockwood stitched into his tunic. He was speaking to a small knot of men, stewards and retainers by the look of them, but when he saw us his face lit with a rare, deliberate smile.

“Here they are,” he declared, his voice carrying across the hall. “My beautiful girls.”

Heads turned the servants, the men at the table, even Corwin Ferin, who was standing near the archway with a rolled ledger under one arm. He inclined his head politely when our gazes met, though his eyes lingered a moment too long.

“Where is Evelyne?” Father asked, setting his goblet aside.

“Still abed,” Maren piped up before I could speak, cheerful as a bell.

Father grunted. “Tell her if she wishes to be admired tonight she had better rise before the garlands are wilted. No daughter of mine is late when Lenweil gathers at my table.”

“Yes, Father,” Maren said, ducking her head but smiling.

He turned back to us and looked me over, his sharp gaze traveling from my neatly dressed hair to the pale green gown I had chosen.

“Good,” he said at last. “You look as you should. Tonight you will both stand with me when the torches are lit.”

“Yes, Father,” I murmured, lowering my eyes, though heat prickled at the back of my neck under the weight of so many stares.

Maren, unbothered, bobbed a quick curtsy and said, “Can we go see the kitchens? The steward says they’re sugaring almonds.”

Father’s mouth twitched not quite a smile, but close. “Go, then. But do not eat until the first toast is drunk.”

Maren seized my hand and pulled me toward the kitchens before I could protest. Behind us, the hum of conversation resumed, though I felt Corwin’s gaze linger even as the distance stretched between us.

The corridor was full of bustle servants hurrying with trays, the distant clatter of pots from the kitchens, the murmur of voices preparing for the festival. Maren skipped ahead, eager to see what sweet things were being made, leaving me trailing behind.

I had just passed beneath one of the high arches when a hand closed around my wrist and tugged me sharply sideways. A startled gasp escaped me as I was pulled into the shadow of an alcove, hidden from view by the curve of the wall.

“Reade—”

“Shh.” His voice was quiet, but the heat in his eyes silenced me more effectively than any command. His fingers were still wrapped around my wrist, his calloused thumb brushing the inside of it where my pulse raced like a frightened bird.

Maren’s voice floated down the corridor. “Lillie? Come on, the steward says they’re sugaring almonds!”

“I’ll meet you there!” I called back, trying to sound steady, though my cheeks were already burning. “Go on ahead.”

There was a pause, then a cheerful, “Don’t be long!” and her footsteps pattered away.

Reade’s mouth quirked into the barest hint of a grin as he released my wrist. “You should be more careful,” he murmured. “You nearly gave yourself away standing there with your heart in your throat.”

“I—” I swallowed, unable to look away from him. “You startled me.”

“Good.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he reached into his belt and drew out a small wildflower, its petals pale and fragile. He tucked it gently behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheek as he did so.

“It brings out the color of your eyes,” he murmured, so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

The simple touch and the words stole my breath. He bent, brushing a kiss to my lips soft, quick, almost chaste, but enough to leave me dizzy and clinging to the wall for balance. When he straightened, there was a crooked smile on his face that made my heart stumble all over again.

“You’d better run,” he said softly. “Before someone notices you’re gone.”

I nodded, though my legs felt like water. Then I gathered my skirts and hurried down the corridor, my pulse still fluttering wildly, the flower trembling in my hair like proof that I had not imagined him.

Briallen was already in my chamber when I returned, laying out a tray of bread and honey. She glanced up, and whatever she saw in my face made her pause, hand hovering over the pitcher.

“You’re flushed,” she said bluntly. “And it isn’t from walking the halls.”

I turned away, but the smile tugging at my mouth refused to be hidden. “I saw him.”

Briallen’s brows shot up. “Lillie—”

“I had to,” I said quickly, spinning back to face her. “I had to see him, Briallen. And he—” The memory of it caught in my throat, warm as fire under my skin. “He kissed me.”

Briallen shut the door with a snap that made me jump. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” I rose from the bench, unable to keep still. “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Briallen went still, staring at me as though I had struck her.

“I have tried to fight it,” I said, the words spilling out now in a rush I could not stop. “I have tried to write it away, tried to tell myself he would never answer, that I should forget him but I cannot. I don’t want to. When I am with him, I feel… alive. Like myself. Like I am not just Father’s jewel but someone who can choose her own fate.”

Briallen’s mouth pressed into a thin, grim line. “If your father knew—”

“I know what he would do. He would lock me away or marry me off to a man I do not love. I cannot live like that.” I stepped forward and caught her hands in mine, desperate now. “You’ve always protected me. Protect me now not from him, but for him. Help me see him again.”

Briallen hesitated so long I thought she might refuse outright. Then she sighed, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of my words had settled on her.

“You truly love him?” she asked softly.

“With everything in me.”

Her gaze softened, and she reached up to touch my cheek, her hand warm and rough from years of service. “Then I will help you. But we must be careful very careful. If your father catches you…”

“I know.”

Briallen’s lips curved, just faintly. “You’re your mother’s daughter through and through. She would have done the same.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest at her words, steadying me. For the first time, I didn’t feel entirely alone in this.