The Lily and the Crown Read online

  “But you are,” Assistant persisted. She tapped a star chart with her finger, though her gaze never left Ari’s face. “You are far kinder to me than Mír would have been to you. For example.”

  “Well.” Ari laughed awkwardly, “I’m not exactly a pirate queen.” She looked down and fiddled with her sleeve. “I mean, why shouldn’t I be nice to you?”

  “Why not, indeed.” Ari looked up and saw that Assistant was smiling. A real smile. It seemed to change her whole face, softening its hawkish lines, bringing light to those blue eyes. Ari’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of it, and she almost didn’t hear Assistant add, “I’m trying to imagine the sort of pirate queen you’d make.”

  “A lousy one,” Ari said at once. “Just awful.”

  Assistant chuckled.

  That was even better—no, worse—no, more than the smile. Her head spinning, Ari kept talking, willing to follow this conversation as far as it could go just to keep that look on Assistant’s face. “I don’t think pirate queens get much chance to grow plants or do experiments. And they probably have to be, you know.” She swallowed. “Harsh.”

  “That they do,” Assistant acknowledged. Then, to Ari’s surprise, she added, “But not always.” She tilted her head to the side. “Even Mír can be gentle, or so I’ve heard. When she wishes.”

  “Well, of course.” Ari tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “Everybody can. That is, I hope everybody can. Nobody can be horrible all the time.”

  “As you say.” Assistant looked back down at the star chart.

  Ari glanced at a clock on the wall and gasped. “Oh, no!” It was nearly time to— “We’ve got to go turn the lamps on, or the dellinses won’t bloom!”

  How could she have forgotten? Her plants had never slipped her mind before. There was certainly no time to go to the mess hall. Making a mental promise to take Assistant there another time, she snatched the book of star charts from Assistant’s hands and closed it with a thump.

  “But—” Assistant began.

  “No time! Come on! We’ll come back later, I promise!” Ari grabbed Assistant’s arm and hauled her to her feet, hurrying toward the door. Now Assistant wasn’t smiling. She had the same look on her face that she often got when dealing with Ari: plain and simple bafflement.

  Ari had no idea why. It wasn’t like she was that complicated.

  CHAPTER 3

  Two nights later, Ari was obliged to leave her quarters again. She wasn’t nearly as excited about it this time. Assistant had to accompany her. Ari got the feeling she wasn’t happy, either.

  It was a banquet, of the kind her father occasionally threw for visiting dignitaries. Ari hated them. She had to get all dressed up and be awkward in front of dozens of people and try to remember which spoon to use. And when she tried to explain this to Assistant, it didn’t go over very well.

  “Surely you were taught basic etiquette,” Assistant said in obvious disbelief, her voice carrying through the bedroom door as Ari struggled with her dress—a much more formal gown than the one she’d put on to go to the Observatory.

  “Not really,” Ari called back. “My mother died almost thirteen years ago, and ever since then my father hasn’t had much to do with me.” She swallowed hard. “Which is fine. I keep really busy, as you can see.”

  “Yes, I see,” Assistant said.

  Assistant probably did. She saw everything. Ari ran her palms over the skirt of her dress as she looked in the mirror. Maybe Assistant would like this outfit, too—not that she’d say so. She’d never mentioned the red dress again. Why would there be a reason to?

  Tonight’s dress was a pale green, like leaves in spring on Homeworld, which was why Ari had chosen it even though the shop assistant had warned the color washed her out. It was covered in lace the same color as the silk blend beneath. She’d had it fitted, but she’d lost weight since then while being isolated and forgetting to take regular meals, so it was a little baggy in places. And it covered her up from throat to toe, with long sleeves, a high collar, and a skirt that touched the tops of her shoes.

  When Ari emerged from her room, her hopes of Assistant being impressed by her attire were dashed. Assistant’s eyes went wide, like they had for the red dress, but this time she said, “Is it the latest imperial trend to look three times your age?”

  Ari’s cheeks flamed. “Hey. It’s my only formal dress.” Wonderful. Assistant thought she looked awful—though why that should hurt so much was a mystery—and now Ari was already off-balance for the rest of the evening. She needed more confidence than this to deal with all the important people her father was hosting tonight. She couldn’t make him look bad.

  “Then you must wear it, I’m sure.” Assistant looked over at the clock on the wall. If they didn’t leave now, they’d be late.

  And yet Ari blurted, “Well, do you have any ideas?”

  Then she shuffled her feet. What a silly question. Assistant wore a slave’s tunic, day in and day out. Not that it made a difference; here Ari was, the stationmaster’s daughter, practically unable to dress herself. And Assistant looked like an empress from the moment she got out of bed to the moment she retired back to it at night, no matter how much dirt she’d knelt in. She wasn’t exactly in a position to be a fashion maven, and she didn’t need to be.

  To Ari’s surprise, though, Assistant said, “Let me in your closet.”

  When Assistant talked like that, there was no choice but to obey, so Ari sat in befuddlement on the side of her bed while Assistant strode into her walk-in closet, looked around, and sighed heavily.

  Maybe this was a chance to learn more about her. Ari cleared her throat. “Did you, um, work for a woman before, too?” she tried. “Helping her get dressed and stuff?”

  Assistant snorted. “Was I a maid to some pirate’s spoiled mistress? I think not.” She pulled open a chest of drawers and peeped inside. “Hmm.”

  So, pirates had mistresses. Maybe they had families, too. People they cared about. That didn’t make any sense in Ari’s head, not with the way her father talked about pirates as little better than animals. But just two nights ago, Assistant had told Ari that even Mír could be… What word had she used? Gentle. Pirates were human beings, too.

  Assistant whipped out a silk sash from the chest of drawers. “Stand up. And straighten your shoulders.”

  More instructions followed, and Ari stood, turned, held out her arms, and straightened up some more until Assistant was satisfied. By the time she was done, Ari had a white silk sash tied around her middle. Assistant had told her to put on a gold pendant—one of the few pieces of jewelry she had, something that had belonged to her mother. She didn’t have pierced ears, so no earrings, but Assistant scavenged her jewelry box and found the bracelet Ari had worn when they’d gone to the Observatory.

  “Gosh,” Ari said, looking at herself in the mirror with wonder. What a huge improvement. She had a waist and everything. “You’re good at this.”

  “You sound so surprised.”

  Ari met Assistant’s gaze in the mirror and fought not to blush. How was it that Assistant seemed to be able to read her every feeling? “I guess I shouldn’t be. You’re good at everything. Even fashion.” She gave a halting laugh.

  “You’d be amazed at how important it is to have style, Ariana. That sets the example, the standard. No matter what you do.”

  There was something a little off in that remark—since when did slaves set standards?—but that wasn’t what grabbed the bulk of Ari’s attention. Assistant had never said her name before. But then slaves never addressed anyone that way except for other slaves.

  Ari wasn’t about to object. Not when her name in Assistant’s mouth sounded like that—so elegant, almost musical.

  “S-so I look okay now?” she managed, looking at her reflection in the mirror and not really able to take it in.

  “You have leaves in your hair,” Assistant said.

  Well, that was just typical. Of course, Ari hadn’t noticed and Assist
ant had. She sighed and headed into her bathroom, picking samples of Barbissa noctes out of her hair. “I wish I didn’t have to go to this stupid thing.”

  “I admit I’m having a hard time seeing you chatting with ambassadors’ wives.”

  “Oh, I never talk,” Ari said quickly. “I mean, unless somebody tries to talk to me. And then they never want to hear what I have to say, since I don’t want to talk about politics or anything, so it doesn’t last too long. Thank goodness.”

  “Really?” Assistant seemed truly surprised. “You’re quite the little chatterbox in here.”

  Ari saw herself blush in the mirror as she reached for her comb. “I don’t mind talking to you,” she said earnestly, dragging a comb through her de-leafed hair as she exited the bathroom. “I hope you don’t mind it, either. You don’t make me feel like I’m stupid. Much,” she added, in the interests of honesty.

  Assistant looked even more surprised. “You’re not stupid.” She gestured at the little forest in Ari’s quarters. “Just look what you’ve done here.”

  Ari shrugged. “Nobody cares about what I do in here. Maybe they will, though, when I finish work on that new pea. It might be of use to somebody.” Which was all she wanted, really—to be of use. Not just to be the weird girl who played with plants all the time.

  “Perhaps it will,” Assistant said, her voice unusually kind. But when Ari gave her a quick glance, her face was as blank as ever.

  ~ ~ ~

  It only took a few minutes for Ari to remember why she hated these dinners so much. For one thing, everything was much too noisy and out-of-order. For another, all the slaves had to kneel by their masters’ sides, which Ari had always thought was really stupid and embarrassing, only now it was even worse because she had one of her own. So, Assistant knelt by the side of her chair, and Ari could practically feel the rage emanating from her.

  “We’ll leave early,” she promised. “I’ll say I have a headache. I can get away with that sometimes, if I don’t do it too often.” And she hadn’t done it the last time.

  Assistant did not reply. Ari did what she usually did at these events: she kept her head down and listened to people talking around her, hoping nobody tried to talk to her.

  There was no shortage of luminaries, anyway. A delegation from Homeworld was doing a perimeter tour under heavy security, and Nahtal Station was their last stop before they returned to the capital. Ari’s father wasn’t usually one for pomp and circumstance, but a quick glance around the room showed that he’d gone to unusual effort tonight. The station’s banquet hall, formerly utilitarian and plain, had been painted months ago with murals of scenes of great imperial victories over the centuries. The center table was hand-carved from the magnificent darkwoods that the planet Illiard was known for, and it was covered with candles, fine china, and savory dishes of all kinds.

  And spoons and forks. Lots of them. Ari looked dolefully at the selection and tried to keep an eye out for what the other guests were doing as they ate.

  A low voice came from her right side: Assistant whispered, sounding as though she was talking through her teeth, “Outside in.”

  When Ari glanced quickly down at her, trying to be unobtrusive (slaves got in huge trouble if they spoke unbidden at dinner), Assistant gave the cutlery a pointed look. Ari looked at her salad and then placed an uncertain hand on the fork that was farthest to the left of her plate.

  Assistant nodded, barely perceptibly.

  Ari tried not to let her hand shake with relief as she picked up the fork and saw that the other guests were doing the same.

  Assistant knew about clothes and etiquette. No matter what she said, surely, she must have been in some grand places. Did pirates even have grand places? Had Assistant known another life before being enslaved by them?

  Given the tenor of her thoughts, perhaps it was no surprise that when someone across the table said, “Well, I’m just so grateful we haven’t needed all that extra security against pirates,” Ari snapped to attention.

  “All that expensive security,” the ambassador agreed from where he sat to the right of Ari’s father at the head of the table. “And with the budget under such strain. Still, better safe than sorry, I suppose. Lord Geiker, what do you think is going on?”

  Ari’s father frowned. He didn’t look well tonight—pale and kind of tired. Now that Ari looked closely at him, he seemed to have lost weight. His thick blond hair appeared grayer at the temples, and his usual upright military posture looked more relaxed. Not in a good way, though. More like he was slumping. But his dress uniform was as crisp and pressed as ever, and his hazel eyes as sharp. The tall, male slave next to him was well-groomed and attentive. Lord Geiker was the very picture of the imperial discipline Assistant had said was so sorely lacking.

  “Mír’s ships have not been spotted in days.” His deep voice commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Including Assistant. From the corner of her eye, Ari saw her glance up to the head of the table. That was something else slaves weren’t supposed to do. “Anywhere. The latest scuttlebutt is that her fleet must have hidden itself in some out-of-the way, abandoned station, though nobody knows why.”

  The ambassador hadn’t said Mír’s name. That didn’t matter. When it came to the pirates, one was known above all others. Everyone else at the table was nodding.

  “It’s not as if she suffered a big loss recently,” the ambassador’s wife said, sipping her wine. “At least, not that I’ve heard about.”

  “I don’t like it when she’s this quiet,” Ari’s father said. “I know her patterns by now. She’s planning something.”

  “Do you think so, Lord Geiker?” asked a man to Ari’s left. He’d introduced himself to her, but she’d been so nervous that she’d already forgotten his name.

  “Of course she is.” Her father looked surprised that anyone had needed to ask. “That’s what she does. That’s who she is. Vicious animals don’t suddenly become tame.”

  “I hear your people captured a scouter of hers,” another woman said, and the excited murmurs rose all around the table.

  Ari immediately bit her lip and darted a glance at Assistant, who was holding herself as still as stone. Sure enough—

  “Yes, but there was only one survivor,” Ari’s father said. He pointed at Assistant. “My daughter’s new slave, right there.”

  Ari winced as everyone turned to look at Assistant. But Assistant did not cringe from their stares; she met them with her own, cold and unafraid.

  “Did she have anything to say?” said the ambassador’s wife, excitement in her voice. “Was she able to give you any useful information?”

  “Unfortunately not.” Ari’s father shook his head. “She was a slave on their ship. We questioned her, but she said she knew nothing. And you know our lie detectors are never wrong.”

  “Oh, the poor thing,” another woman said, looking sympathetically at Assistant. But it didn’t quite seem like real sympathy. It didn’t seem like what Ari felt when she thought about what Assistant must have endured—a feeling that was both sweet and painful.

  Assistant’s own expression did not change one jot.

  The woman looked less sympathetic then and glanced at Ari as she said, “I hope she realizes how lucky she is.” Then she turned back to talk to the woman seated next to her, and thankfully, everybody’s attention was off Ari.

  Well…almost everybody’s. “Do you keep her busy?” inquired the man on Ari’s left, pointing at Assistant as though Ari might think he was talking about somebody else.

  Thinking wistfully of excuses about headaches, Ari managed, “She…she helps me in my garden. She’s really good at it.”

  Of course, the man didn’t ask her about her garden. He just wanted to know about her slave. Typical. “I’ve always felt that a woman of rank should have at least one house slave,” he said. He glanced down at Assistant again. “Not bad. How old is she? She looks healthy enough.”

  “More than enough,” Assistant said softl
y.

  The man raised his eyebrows and looked displeased at this insolence. “Well, she’s in need of discipline.”

  “Oh, um,” Ari said. Thank goodness her father was far enough down the table that he couldn’t hear this, especially since he was already talking to the ambassador again.

  “How often does she need whipping?” the man asked, in the same tone as if he’d asked what Ari’s favorite food was.

  “I don’t whip her!” Ari’s skin crawled at the thought. “I’d never do that!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Your prerogative. But she’d obviously benefit from it.” He glared down at Assistant. “I know her sort. She takes advantage of any kindness you show to her. I hope she won’t make you regret it.”

  He reached out to touch Assistant—take her by the chin, pet her hair, something like that. Ari saw Assistant take a deep breath, saw her bare her teeth—

  “No!” Ari blurted, and raised her own hand, ready to slap the man’s hand away from Assistant. Then she realized what a diplomatically awful idea that was, and she turned the motion into a weak finger-wagging. “I mean, I’m sure I won’t regret it. I mean, please don’t touch her.”

  The man stared at her in astonishment.

  Ari stood, attracting the attention of everyone around her. “Um. I’m sorry. I have a headache. Please excuse us both.”

  Then she fled her seat, hearing Assistant rising to her feet behind her. She hurried up to the head of the table as her father glanced up at her.

  “Sorry, Father.” She bent to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I’m not feeling very well tonight.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Again?” he asked, his voice soft enough that only she could hear. Ari gave him a guilty smile. He glanced to where Assistant was making her way to his seat, watching them both. “How does your slave suit you?”

  “Oh, she’s…” Ari’s voice trailed off. This didn’t seem like the moment to ask him why he’d given her a slave. “She’s fine.”

  “Tell the kitchen slaves to send some of the feast to your room,” her father said, and patted her hand. “No need to go hungry tonight.”