“I believe I owe you a knife,” she explained, seeing as how she had no idea where the one she took from him was.
“That’s not necessary, Princess.”
“Necessary and right are not always the same thing.” She shivered. “I will make sure you get it as soon as possible.”
Turning, she went back into her room and threw the bolt. Now she could shiver and read the note on the flower without pretending she wasn’t sweating. With uncertain fingers, Carys untied the white ribbon and unfurled the small piece of parchment.
I look forward to our next dance. Let me know where and when. —Errik
She staggered to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. If anyone else read the note, they would think it was a flirtation instead of a signal. Lord Errik had gotten Larkin safely to the passages and was waiting for Carys to decide the next move.
Why? He was clever and attractive and had no reason to be putting himself on the line to help Carys. Which meant he wasn’t to be trusted. After years of teaching herself not to be close to or to trust any save Andreus and Larkin, Carys found herself helpless to block the desire to lean on him.
Whatever his motives, he had kept Larkin safe. For now. Errik had been right when he said that would only last for so long. Carys had to convince Andreus of Imogen’s treachery. Once he realized the plots against him, Carys should be able to make him understand that Larkin was an innocent fly in Imogen’s—or someone she was allied with’s—web. Because there was more than just Imogen at work here. No matter. She had plotted against their father and brother and arranged their deaths. For that alone, Carys would make her pay.
Holding the flower, Carys lay on the bed. Her eyes were heavy, her body craved rest, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her brain raced. Her heart pounded. The more she tried to sleep, the worse her stomach churned and her muscles tensed.
Her back throbbed as she shifted positions. Just a sip of the Tears would fix everything. The sleeplessness. The aches in her body and her heart. Just one drink.
She tossed and turned and rose from the bed and paced, looking out the window every few minutes, waiting for the sky to lighten—terrified that Andreus would not be on the battlements when she arrived. Even more scared that he would turn away from her if he did come. If so, she wasn’t sure what she would do. The Andreus at the ball was not the one she had known all these years. Or maybe he was. Maybe she didn’t know him the way she thought.
Maybes spun in her head. Every muscle in her tightened. Sweat trickled down her neck as she paced in front of the window and watched the stars shift in the sky. Shadows moved on the mountains. Faint screeches in the distance made Carys pull her arms tightly around herself until the sky finally showed signs of lightening.
She changed into another of Larkin’s creations—this one a deep red. When she swiped a brush through her hair at the mirror, Carys’s white skin next to the color of her dress reminded her of the ball last night. Red against white. Blood against stone.
Wrapping a dark gray cloak around her, Carys spotted the rose on the bedcovers and slipped the flower into one of the pockets of her dress so it rested next to the stiletto. With one hand wrapped around the blade in her pocket, she headed to the battlements to meet her brother.
Or not.
The battlements were empty. Windmills creaked and pulsed and pounded as they churned the air. The orb glowed bright on the eastern tower. Two guards stood near the front of the battlements, looking off in the distance for signs of trouble. They glanced at her but said nothing as she paced the stone walls and waited.
She pulled her cloak closer to ward off the chills going up her spine even though the early morning was still. No breeze blew as she held her breath and looked around the battlements. Once she thought she saw something move in the shadows, but Andreus never appeared.
The dark sky faded to light gray. If her twin was going to come, he would have been here by now. He must not have checked the loose step for the note she had left. She refused to believe that no matter what he had done, or how thirsty he was for the power of the throne, he would ignore a desperate plea for them to meet and discuss who was behind their father’s and brother’s deaths.
Carys decided to check the step to prove he hadn’t received the note. Perhaps he had and had left a reply explaining why he couldn’t come. Carys turned and saw Imogen standing in the doorway of the southern tower. The seeress’s dark hair fluttered around her as she stepped onto the battlements and headed for Carys. As she grew closer, Carys spotted a piece of parchment in Imogen’s hand.
“Good morning, Princess,” Imogen shouted above the thumping of the windmills. “I hope you had a good night. Your brother certainly did. When I left him, he was sleeping soundly, which is why he never had a chance to find the note you left for him. He had actually been thinking of leaving one for you, which is how I knew to look under the step. I’m glad I did or you would be left standing here alone. Is there nothing worse for a lady than to be left waiting for a man? Even if the man is her brother.”
Andreus had told her about the notes. What else had he spoken about? A whip of wind pulled at Carys’s cloak. “You sound as though you speak from experience. I didn’t know you had a brother.”
Imogen stepped closer. “There are a great many things you don’t know about me, Princess. Yes, I have a brother. I have not seen him since I came to Eden to study with the seers when I was five. But I think of him every day.”
“Came to study?” Carys asked. “I thought you were from the District of Acetia.” And timid. They all thought her timid. But this Imogen wasn’t the same one who stood beside Micah and flinched if he said something unkind. This was the Imogen from the Hall of Virtues with the Book of Knowledge in her hands and a plan on her lips. Only Carys hadn’t seen that. She’d been too concerned about the Elders and Garret and had only worried that her brother was letting passion rule his head. And that worry—the jealousy of his choosing Imogen over her—had made Carys blind to the truth that was standing in front of her now.
The wind howled and Imogen—frail, fragile Imogen—stood strong as a tree as she yelled, “I’m disappointed in you, Princess. A person can say they are from anywhere if there is no one to contradict them. My family admired the power of the seers and the trust they command. They wished their daughter to be one of them. And here I am Seer of Eden and soon to be wife of Andreus, King of Eden, Keeper of Virtues.”
“My brother does not believe in your supposed power.” Everything churned inside her. “He has spent his entire life hating the Guild and their seers.”
“Your brother says a lot of things, but at his core he wants approval. He ordered the death of that boy in order to gain the support of the Council. He bends on his disbelief of the seers to please me.” Imogen smiled. “He said he destroyed the thing you needed to make it through the Trials, and yet while he slept, I found this.”
From her pocket, Imogen withdrew a red glass bottle. Without thinking, Carys lifted a hand and took a step toward it.
Imogen pulled it back with a frown. “You only gain it if you give something to me.”
Carys couldn’t take her eyes off the bottle in Imogen’s hand. Imogen was the enemy. She’d had a hand in killing Micah and Father. But the desperate ache inside Carys pushed down the anger at these truths. It was there. Carys tried to hold on to it. But the bottle called to her. Just a bit of it and she would be strong. She would be able to defend her brother against this woman. If she could just get the bottle . . .
She hated herself as she asked, “What do you want, Imogen?”
Imogen stared at the red bottle while turning it in her hand. “I’d heard about your troubles when I first came here. Micah said Lord Garret used to annoy him by telling him he needed to help you get control over your need for whatever is inside this. Lord Garret said if Micah didn’t intercede, it would lead to the downfall of Eden.” She smiled and Carys shivered as the wind grew stronger around her. “I guess I’m glad Micah didn’t heed his friend’s w
arnings or we might not be standing here now.”
“What do you want, Imogen?” Carys repeated as yearning and loathing tugged inside her.
“I want the seamstress who aided your brother’s attacker. She was here in the castle earlier and now the guards cannot find her. Where is she?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you check the stars?” Carys said, forcing herself to look at Imogen’s face and not at the bottle just out of reach.
“You don’t want to refuse me, Highness.” Imogen stepped forward, bringing the bottle closer. “Once Andreus is King, the three of us can work together to make Eden strong.”
“Work together?” Everything inside her tightened as Imogen shifted the bottle so now it was held casually in front of her. Just two or three steps forward and it would be in Carys’s hands. “Like you worked with my brother Micah? It’s because of you that he’s dead.”
Imogen sighed. “I was right! You have spoken to the seamstress. But it doesn’t matter.”
“You had my brother and my father killed.”
Imogen sighed. “You give me too much credit. Micah is the one who killed your father. He thought he’d convinced the King’s Guard to come to his side. Only many of the men had been well paid to take a different side, and they struck once the King had fallen. Poor Micah never considered the possibility of his own death. I’m sure it came as a great surprise when his own guard shoved a blade into his neck. But there is no one to say I had anything to do with it.”
Carys’s heart pounded. Wind swirled. The bottle called to her even as anger simmered and fought to break free. “There’s me.”
“You?” Imogen laughed. “The drug-addled princess who is so desperate to win the throne that she will say anything?” Imogen stepped forward again.
The bottle was closer still. An arm’s length away.
“How many hours has it been since you had your last dose, Princess? Is it the wind making your eyes water and your hands shake, or is it the pain of not having this concoction? We don’t have to be at odds. You have been treated poorly by everyone here in the Palace of Winds—even your precious twin has betrayed you.”
Another step closer. The windmills turned faster—louder—as the wind howled.
“You owe your brother nothing, Carys. Let him win the contest, and play at King until the true ruler of Eden claims his throne. When he does, I can see that you rule at his side.”
Imogen held out her hand. The red bottle balanced in the center of her palm. “Your brother doesn’t care about you or you wouldn’t be looking as though you can barely stand. Take the bottle, Carys, as a promise that we will work together.”
No. This was wrong. Rage burned even as Carys stared at the bottle. She could take the bottle and still tell Andreus what she knew. There was nothing stopping her. But this was all wrong.
Imogen lifted her hand so the bottle was in front of Cary’s face. Just a breath away. Impossible not to look at.
Wait—
Carys shifted her eyes down and saw the blade in Imogen’s other hand coming toward her.
Carys stumbled backward as Imogen lunged, the bottle shattering on the ground as the knife caught Carys’s cloak. The sound of the thick fabric ripping under the thunder of the windmills rang loud in Carys’s ears. She jerked herself backward toward the battlement wall. Imogen careened forward, caught herself, then turned as Carys pushed her hair out of her face and glanced toward where the guards should stand.
They were gone.
The wind howled harder.
Imogen moved forward with the knife pointed at Carys.
Frantic, Carys fumbled for the stilettos inside her dress, but her hands shook and the wind whipped the cloak she was wearing. She couldn’t find the openings. Couldn’t reach where they lay. She dove to the side as Imogen charged, caught her foot on a stone, and crashed to the ground.
Pain sang in her hands and knees as she pushed herself up and tried again to find the stilettos. Where were the pocket openings? She glanced over her shoulder. Imogen was advancing again. Carys rolled onto her back to kick at the tourniquet cloak that limited her movement.
“You should have taken the bottle, Carys. You could have drunk it all. It would have been easier that way.”
Carys got her legs free and pushed to her knees as Imogen charged. Pockets. She had to find—
There.
Her hand slid into the slit in the fabric as Imogen’s knife bit the air, slashing toward her.
“No!” Carys screamed.
Wind gusted again with a strength that should have knocked Carys onto her face, but she fought to stay on her knees as Imogen was pushed off balance. The seeress stumbled to the side and grabbed the wall, righted herself, and started forward as Carys’s fingers wrapped around the metal hilt of the stiletto. Imogen charged against the wind as the stiletto slid from the sheath.
Wind whipped Carys’s hair in front of her eyes. She was almost blind as she sent the stiletto flying forward.
The windmills pounded the air. Her heart raced in her chest as she shoved her thick mane out of her eyes.
Imogen’s beautiful face was crumpled in shock and pain.
The seer reached for the stiletto sticking out of the center of her stomach as she fell to the ground.
“No.” Carys scrambled to Imogen and looked down into her glassy eyes. “Tell me now. Tell me what you know! One of the Elders is working with you. Who is it? You have to tell me who!”
“I should have known.” Imogen stared up at Carys and weakly pulled at the blade. “The stars are never wrong.”
The devil with the stars. “Tell me which Elder helped kill my brother and father and I’ll get Madame Jillian,” she promised as she looked at the blood oozing out of the seer. “She can heal you. Tell me!”
“The power. The winds. I thought it was me, but it’s you.” Imogen coughed. “And you don’t know.”
“Know what?” It didn’t matter, she told herself. “Who is helping you, Imogen?”
“You are the dark path. You will shatter the light with your power.” Imogen coughed again and a line of blood trickled out of her mouth. “You’ll destroy it all.”
“Imogen,” Carys yelled. No. Not yet. “Imogen, you can’t die. You have to tell me who else is trying to kill my family.”
But the seeress’s chest no longer rose and fell. Her eyes were wide as they looked up at the sky. The Seer of Eden was dead.
And Carys had to get off the battlements before the guards returned and saw. Andreus. He would—
Something raced out of the shadows. Carys grabbed the stiletto. The winds began to swirl again, but the figure didn’t run toward her. Instead it darted toward the entrance to the East Tower and turned for just a second before racing down the stairs.
It was the boy. Max. And Carys was certain where he was running to. He was going to tell Andreus that her hands were stained with blood.
18
Andreus smiled at the note as he finished getting dressed in Imogen’s rooms.
Went to call the winds and study the stars. Didn’t want to wake you.
If she had woken him, Andreus certainly would have tried to convince her there were other things to do this morning than walk the battlements looking at the sky. But he knew she wouldn’t have been dissuaded no matter how much he pleaded. She spent hours searching the skies each and every day. On the mornings he worked with the Masters of Light he could count on seeing her on the battlements with her eyes fixed on the heavens. Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that he had found more and more reasons to spend additional time working on the lines. He had wanted her then like he had never wanted anything else.
Now she was his.
Just as the throne would be his.
He hadn’t wanted his brother and father to die. Part of him feared his coronation would be tinged with guilt. But as Imogen told him as he lay next to her, the death of the King and Micah came at the hands of the Kingdom of Adderton. Once the crown was on his head, he woul
d call on the High Lords to send more men to his banner. There they would avenge their fallen king. Andreus and his army would crush Adderton. He would show them and all other kingdoms what happens when faith is broken with virtue and light.
He hoped his sister would learn that, too. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had last taken the Tears of Midnight, but it had been long enough that she would now show signs of her body’s need for it. Her muscles would be aching. Her stomach cramping. He knew from the last time she went through the withdrawal that she wouldn’t be able to eat. It took great efforts to get her to take tea or water as she sweated and shook and screamed from the pain.
He remembered the glassy look in her eyes—the agony. He wished things could be different. But she had made her choices and he had to make his. And really, wasn’t he helping Carys? Once the Trials were over, she would no longer be bound by the drugs that held her in their thrall. Then she would have another choice to make: to stand by him as he ruled or to be banished to another kingdom as the wife of a foreign lord. Imogen said he might have to exert more force upon her to bring her to heel, but the seeress didn’t know his sister the way he did. She only wanted the freedom to live her life as she pleased. They would make peace.
In truth, Carys had served him for their entire life. She would do so again because he was all she had.
Gongs echoed as he turned the key to unlock his rooms. The same gongs that signaled the return of the King or the attack of the Xhelozi. Only there was no King and the sun was shining, so the gongs should not be ringing at all. Andreus put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He turned and started toward the steps just as Max burst into the hall. “She’s dead,” he yelled. “The Lady Imogen.”
Andreus went cold. “What are you talking about? Did you hear someone say that?”
“No, Your Highness. I saw it. I stayed up all night so I could follow the devil man and I saw the Princess and Lady Imogen on the top of the castle. They were fighting. Princess Carys threw a knife.”
The battlements. Where Imogen had said she was going to go to look at the stars. She’d gone up there to search for a vision that would help him.