Still, she could feel him behind her as well as Elder Jacobs, who had warned her not to get too close to the flames or she would get burned. Was he referring to searching out the truth about the ambush or something else?
She rode silently, glad she had taken several sips from the red bottle to help her withstand the journey through the foothills that led to the Shadow Mountains and the majestic Tomb of Light that had been created hundreds of years before. Artisans of the past dug and carved and smoothed the stone, creating an ornate entrance to the resting place of Eden’s rulers. Twenty feet inside the cave stood two large iron doors that Carys’s father had had installed by the Masters of Light. Those doors could only be opened using the power from the windmill that chopped the air directly above the cave. Only the royal family and the head of the Guild of Light knew how to operate the doors. If the castle was attacked and the royal family slaughtered, the secret of the doors would stop the usurpers from desecrating those who had been placed in the light.
Their mother should have operated the doors now, but she just laughed at the idea of getting off her horse and told Andreus and Carys to go without her. Captain Monteros kept all of the mourners back as Carys and Andreus left their mother smiling in the sun while they went into the cave. Andreus walked to the left corner while Carys went to the right. It took only moments for each of them to pry up the correct stones her father showed them years ago.
Underneath her stone was a rectangular hole with wires and a pile of seemingly purposeless stones. It took Carys only a few moments to dig through the rocks and find the small, perfectly clear stone—the key the Masters had created. Carefully, she placed the stone in the space between the metal wires, while on the other side of the tomb entrance her brother did the same. A few seconds later the doors began to move. A light brighter than the sun at midday spilled from inside the cavern. Carys shielded her eyes as the guards carried the caskets inside, so that they might rest in that place, the room always bathed in the white light of virtue.
But by the time the doors to the tomb were once again closed, darkness was starting to fall.
The ride back was faster—which meant it was bumpier. Carys’s still-healing wounds screamed with each bounce. But the screech that came from the mountains—and the answering call that sounded like a rusty gate being opened—made everyone turn and look behind them and had Carys nudging her horse, Nala, to go faster.
The cold season was upon them. The Xhelozi were beginning to awaken.
The sky darkened. Huddled deep in her cloak, trying to ignore the anxiety, Carys felt the desperate craving pulling at her. The procession rode out of the foothills and closer to the plateau where the orb of Eden and the rest of the lights glowed bright and promised safety.
Another screech echoed in the night. Farther away than before, but still terrifying. Carys looked over her shoulder and squinted at the mountains rising through the shadows.
Something moved near the foothills.
The Council and Captain Monteros urged everyone to go faster. The city gates and the safety of the walls were less than a mile away. Just as they reached the main entrance, a horse veered from the front of the group and circled back in the direction of the foothills of the mountains.
“Mother,” Carys yelled as she wheeled her horse through the group of riders. “Mother, stop!”
“My king!” her mother wailed. Her cape billowed as she rode in the direction of certain danger. Behind Carys, Andreus shouted, but he was too far away to catch up. Carys leaned forward, pushing Nala to go faster as she glanced toward the base of the mountains and the shadows moving there. Not all of the Xhelozi would be ready to come out of their hibernation, and only once that Carys could remember did any who awoke this early travel this far from the mountains. But any that did would be hungry.
“Mother,” she screamed. “Stop.”
A horse from the back of the procession thundered away from the group. Her mother’s horse slowed as the black stallion and the man in a dark cloak pounded toward them and Carys was relieved to see him grab the reins.
“Let me go,” her mother called. “I have to go. They want me to go.”
The rider ignored the words and led the Queen and the horse back in the direction of the gates.
“No! I command you,” her mother screamed. “Your queen commands you!”
She kicked at the other rider and caught the horse in its flanks, causing it to rear. The rider held on to his own seat, but lost his grip on Mother, who slid off her horse and began running toward the mountains, yelling, “They’re calling for me. Can’t you hear it? I have to go.”
The Queen stumbled on a rock and pitched forward. Oben reached her and helped her rise.
Blood trickled down Mother’s face as Carys reached her.
“Mother,” Carys said, sliding from her own horse while Oben tried to help his queen stand. “You’re hurt. Let’s get back to the Palace of Winds so Oben can stop the bleeding and get you ready for the coronation.”
Her mother shook her head and pulled against Oben’s grip. “They are waiting.”
“You’re right,” Carys said. “Everyone is waiting for their queen inside the city. Oben, perhaps it would be better if you helped Mother into one of the carts for the rest of the journey?”
Oben nodded.
“No.” Her mother screamed and kicked and tried to bite Oben to force him to release her from his iron grip. But he held fast as he climbed with the Queen into one of the now empty funeral carts. “Didn’t you hear? I have to go.”
“Get her into the city,” Carys commanded the driver. Andreus and Elder Cestrum took up places behind the cart and rumbled toward the gates.
“Clear the way,” Captain Monteros yelled as the gongs sounded and Carys’s mother passed through the gate into the safety of the city while screaming, “Let me go. I don’t belong here. You have to let me go.” Finally, she stopped struggling and yelling and instead kept murmuring the words to herself.
People came out of their houses and lined the streets that were lit by the power of the wind. They were no longer somber and quiet as they had been earlier during the final procession of the King and Prince. Now they were shouting and a few young children were racing down the street waving at the procession. To them death was over and the time for the next step in the kingdom had come. It was the way things were. The way things were supposed to be.
“Long live Queen Betrice,” someone shouted.
“No!” Carys heard her mother say.
Another voice took up the cheer as the streets became lined with more people looking to show their support for the new ruler.
The solo shouts grew into cheers as the procession reached the base of the white stairs that led up to the castle sitting high above.
“Long live the Queen! Long live Queen Betrice.”
Andreus helped their mother down from the cart. Oben stayed a step behind. The Queen looked around bewildered as Chief Elder Cestrum took her arm and began leading her up the white stairs.
The shouts grew louder still as Andreus took Imogen’s arm and headed up behind them with Carys following—watching her brother lean down and whisper something to the seer that made her look up at him with a small, secret smile.
Their mother and the Chief Elder halted on the first of the wide landings carved into the castle’s long staircase entrance. Elder Cestrum turned and held up his iron claw. The crowd below went silent.
“King Ulron and Crown Prince Micah now rest,” Elder Cestrum announced. “But the Kingdom of Eden continues on under Queen Betrice. Our Keeper of Virtues. Guardian of the Light. Ruler of Eden. Long may she reign.”
The cheering swelled as the Queen yelled, “No. This is wrong.”
“Mother!” Carys snapped as her mother pulled her arm away from Elder Cestrum. She nearly toppled from the stairs as she staggered back. The crowd gasped and fell silent. “No. No. No!” the Queen screeched. “They are calling to me. My place is with them. You can’t make m
e stay. I will join them in the mountains.”
“Your Majesty.” Elder Cestrum stepped toward the Queen. “Your place is here. You will be crowned and sit upon the throne.”
“Never.” Hair whipping in a gust of wind, Carys’s mother turned and looked out at the crowd of nobles and commoners on the street and steps below. “The only ruler is King Ulron. He beckons to all of us.”
“My queen. Forgive me, but I don’t understand.” Elder Jacobs stepped around Carys and hurried up the steps toward the Queen. She saw him shift his gaze to Elder Cestrum, who nodded. “Are you saying you renounce your claim to the throne? Are you giving up the crown?”
“Yes. I must go! Our king calls! I must obey his command!”
People gasped and looked to the Queen as Carys hurried up the steps. “It’s been a long day. We will resume the coronation after Mother gets some rest. Oben, get her inside.”
“My queen . . . ,” Elder Cestrum started.
“I am not your queen!” Carys’s mother beamed at the crowd—her hair wild in the wind. Her voice had a singsong quality that chilled Carys to her core. “Where I plan to go there is no need for a crown.” Throwing back her head, Mother laughed. Then she gathered her skirts and hurried up the steps toward the castle—her laughter still ringing in the night.
Everyone watched her go. And while Carys didn’t say it aloud, others did until the whispers became louder and more persistent and filled with fear. Because as much as no one wanted it to be true, it was clear the Queen, Carys’s mother—the only parent she had left alive—was mad.
The kingdom had lost a king and prince.
Now grief had taken their queen.
Who would rule Eden now?
8
“Inside,” Andreus yelled as the people from the city gathered at the base of the stairs demanding answers. He could hear their fear. Gods—he felt it. Father. Micah. Now Mother losing her mind. It was like the darkness was mocking them even as they stood in the orb’s light.
Imogen. She had been by his side, but now she was gone. He glanced up and spotted her white dress and cloak almost at the top of the stairs, far away from the ruckus below. His heart calmed. She was safe. He turned and found his sister staring down at the crowd that pushed against the line the castle guard had formed at the base of the steps.
“Carys!” His sister turned. Andreus saw the same fear and confusion pulsing through him in her eyes as she crossed to him and took his hand. “We have to get in the castle before panic makes people daft.”
She nodded, gathered her skirts with one hand, then hurried with him up the enormous staircase while people shouted and screamed and cried behind them. Andreus glanced over his shoulder. He could see fights breaking out in the middle of the crowd at the base of the steps.
He listened for sounds of steel striking steel—a sign that the violence had escalated and the guards were forced to intervene. He was thankful the clash of weapons didn’t come. When he reached the top, he was breathing hard, but the guards below had kept the peace.
“Are you okay?” Carys sounded strong despite the pain she must be feeling from the wounds on her back. The race up the steps couldn’t have been easy for her. It hadn’t been all that easy for him. He was having a hard time catching his breath, but all was normal . . . or as normal as this kind of thing got for him.
“I’m good,” he said, taking her arm and leading her inside the walls she professed to hate.
“Prince Andreus. Princess Carys!” Elder Ulrich called to them as they walked across the courtyard. They turned and waited as he hurried across. “I know you will wish to check on your mother, but the Council of Elders will be assembling in the Hall of Virtues immediately and I believe you should both be there when we discuss the future of the realm.”
“Immediately? The Queen is clearly overwhelmed from the death of the King and Prince Micah,” Carys said quickly. “Any discussion should wait until she is back to herself and can assure everyone that she intends to take her place on the throne.”
Elder Ulrich looked at them long and hard with his one good eye before quietly continuing, “The Queen has put something in motion that I fear cannot be stopped. There can be no hesitation when the future of the realm is at stake.” He looked around, spotted Elder Cestrum and the rest of the Elders walking with Captain Monteros, and fell silent as they walked past. Then he turned his scarred face back to them. “The Council of Elders will be gathering in the Hall of Virtues. For good or for ill, decisions will be made. I advise you both to join us and to do so very, very soon.”
He bowed, turned his clouded eye, the one Andreus found repulsive and strangely fascinating, away from them, and hurried off.
“What do you think that was about?” Andreus asked. “Elder Ulrich isn’t the type to help others unless there is something in it for him.”
“I don’t know.” Carys shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “But we must go inside and find out. I have a feeling Elder Ulrich is right. We don’t want to be late.”
They hurried inside and down the wide corridors that led to the Hall of Virtues. The corridors were brightly lit and strangely empty, but as they drew closer to the throne room Andreus noticed there were more guards stationed inside the castle than he remembered seeing for years.
They were almost to the Hall when Carys said, “Dreus, I need to collect myself before going in to deal with the Council.”
“Of course.” He stopped walking and put a hand on her shoulder. Under the cloak, he could feel his sister tremble. “Carys, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She stepped away from him and nodded. “I just need a minute to settle myself . . . alone. I’ll meet you in the antechamber in a moment.”
Andreus studied her flushed face and thought about the ominous tone to Elder Ulrich’s words. “I’d rather not leave you by yourself.”
“You had no trouble leaving me alone two days ago.”
He frowned at the bitterness in the words. “Look, I told you—”
“A minute alone, Andreus,” she said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her cloak despite the warmth inside the castle. “You owe me that.”
“One minute,” he said, irritated. “I’ll be around the corner in case anything strange happens.”
“That’s fine.”
He strode down the corridor alone. As he was turning the corner that led to the Hall of Virtues, he glanced back at his sister, who had moved so she was now standing near the wall with her back to him. Carys lifted her arm. Her head tilted back and he knew exactly why she’d needed the moment.
He said nothing about the drug when she reappeared. They’d deal with that later. For now, he put his arm out for her to take and together they walked into the brightly lit throne room.
“Dreus, whatever they say or do, I want you to know one thing has not changed.” They walked the long length of the Hall toward the five members of the Council of Elders, who stood not far from the steps that led to the gold-and-sapphire throne. “We are a team. I promise to protect you as I always have.”
Andreus put his hand on hers. “And I you, to whatever degree I am capable.”
“Prince Andreus. Princess Carys.” Elder Jacobs said their names in the soft voice that used to annoy Andreus’s father. Father used to say Elder Jacobs reminded him of a snake that wasn’t poisonous enough to kill with one bite and instead had to sting its prey and wait around for hours, hoping another creature did not come along and claim the prize as its own. Watching the man move as though he was gliding across the floor confirmed that observation. Andreus vowed to keep his father’s words close as the man said, “The Council of Elders did not expect you at such a fraught time. Are you certain your mother is in good care? Perhaps you should see to her.”
“Our mother is tired, my lord,” Carys said in a steady voice. “She’s had a hard time sleeping since learning of the King and Prince Micah’s death.”
“Yes,” Andreus said. “The Queen will be rested and rea
dy to rule in time for her coronation tomorrow.”
Elder Jacobs grinned. “The Council is glad to see the same affliction that struck your mother has not befallen either of you. And while we all wish for the Queen’s complete recovery, her words have presented us with a problem. Tomorrow’s coronation will not go forward. The Queen cannot rule Eden.”
“What?” Andreus asked as his sister’s fingers tightened on his arm.
“Elder Jacobs is right. By publicly denouncing the crown the Queen has legally removed herself from royal succession.” Elder Ulrich sighed and shook his head. “Your mother cannot take the throne.”
“The Queen was overwhelmed by her loss,” Andreus said quickly. “No one can hold her to what she said outside the castle walls.”
Andreus spun around as Chief Elder Cestrum and Elder Ulrich crossed the white stone floor with two pages behind them, each clutching books and scrolls.
“The Queen publicly renounced her claim to the throne,” Chief Elder Cestrum said. “Unfortunately, according to the laws of Eden—the laws your father, King Ulron, took an oath to uphold—we must hold your mother to her word to prevent the kingdom from faltering.”
His sister’s eyes narrowed at Elder Jacobs as she strode toward him. “Elder Jacobs, as I recall it was you who asked my mother the question about her intent. Was it your desire to push her, in such a fragile state, to forfeit her authority as Queen?”
Elder Jacobs was about to respond when Chief Elder Cestrum cut him off. “It matters not.” He looked at each of the other Elders before turning back to her. “We all heard your mother’s words.”