“Your brother is handling this crisis well,” Elder Cestrum said with a small smile. “As are you, Princess. Perhaps the King and Queen have been too cautious in involving you both in more serious matters of our kingdom and court.”
The chill of his metal claw beneath her fingers made her shiver as they reached the landing and continued down the next set of steps. Carys chose her words carefully as she tried to determine what Elder Cestrum wanted. “The King has reasons for the things he does, my lord.”
“Yes.” Elder Cestrum looked at her and nodded. “He does have reasons. Good ones. But those reasons, from what I can tell, no longer exist. From the whispers I hear from the court, you have overcome your small weakness.”
Small weakness. Perhaps he thought he was being kind to make it sound so minor. Or maybe he was trying to see if she would admit to how great a vice held her in its iron grip. Even now she could feel it squeezing.
“I cannot control the whispers of the court or the will of my king, Lord Cestrum, which is good since I don’t have any desire to try.”
“And it doesn’t bother you, Princess, to be given so little respect?”
She laughed. “Are you kidding, my lord? The less I am involved in the politics of the kingdom, the less time the leaders of the Seven Districts and their minions spend trying to wrap me up in their idiotic plots to gain power. If you’re thinking I care about their respect, you have misjudged your company.”
Elder Cestrum gave her a hard, calculating look before nodding. “You’re wise beyond your years, Princess.”
“Since I only recently turned seventeen,” she countered as they reached the next landing, “I would say that isn’t a significant accomplishment.”
Elder Cestrum laughed as they stepped out into the hallway and headed toward the Hall of Virtues, where the court would be waiting for news of what had happened to the wind power. No doubt tales of Xhelozi attacks had already been told. If nothing else, those were easy rumors to dispatch. If only the rest of the web being woven tonight was as obvious as—
A gong echoed in the halls, and Carys and Elder Cestrum stopped walking. Another gong sounded, followed by several more.
“The King has returned,” Elder Cestrum said, starting down the hall that was already filling with people hurrying to witness his arrival. “Come, Princess. Let us greet your father.”
Guard members fell in step in front and behind Carys and the Chief Elder as they swept through the halls to the courtyard. Her father would have seen the buildings go dark as he approached Garden City. He would have questions that he wanted answered, and with little time to prepare, Carys realized there was only one way to explain someone finding the flaw in the system without Andreus being blamed. She would confess to telling someone of her brother’s finding and take whatever punishment her father chose to dole out. After years of being punished for her obstinacy, her lack of understanding, or her sharp tongue, she knew it would be severe. But she would survive it. She always had and always would as long as it kept her brother’s secret safe.
Framing the words in her head, she stepped into the courtyard behind Elder Cestrum and strode down the lantern-lit white stone path to the gate of the Palace of Winds. They arrived just as a group of men climbed the final steps that led onto the plateau of the castle. The sound of the windmills pulsed. The men staggered forward under the fatigue of their trip and the soiled, heavy sacks they were carrying.
One fell to his knees, dumping his sack to the ground in front of him.
No. That wasn’t a sack.
Carys raced forward. She heard someone yell her name. Hands tried to hold her back, but she shoved the man trying to shield her out of her way. There was no hiding from this truth. No hiding from the dirt-streaked material that she now realized was stitched with the crests of Eden.
Something inside her cracked and she dropped to her knees. Her stomach clenched. Everything trembled as she reached out and rolled over the body that had been dumped on the steps.
Memories flooded her. A deep voice telling stories about the War of Knowledge. A man larger than life on a throne of sapphire and gold. Hands that calmed her when she was small and scared in the dead of winter, terrified the Xhelozi would hurt them all. Amber eyes, so like hers, that she hoped one day to see approval in. Eyes that would never open again.
Carys couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Tears burned her eyes, her throat. She couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone. Her father wouldn’t allow that kind of weakness. He wouldn’t forgive. He wouldn’t . . .
Something was set on the ground next to her father. She blinked to clear her eyes and felt the wall holding the tears back crumble as the light her twin had helped restore shone on the bloody, waxen face.
Wind whipped her hair.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she touched her older brother’s icy hand.
The orb shone bright, but darkness had come to Eden and Carys didn’t know if there was any light that could chase this kind of darkness away.
4
Unless he had gotten himself into trouble for mouthing off while serving the ladies of court, the boy had to be around here somewhere. Andreus nodded to a Master ordering apprentices to put away their tools and headed toward the back of the battlements.
He started to duck into the base of one of the windmills when he heard Max’s voice call, “Prince Andreus. Did you see? Everything in the castle went dark and all the ladies started screaming. No one knew how to find candles or that they should stand still so they don’t crash into things in the dark.”
No. Andreus doubted they would.
“I’m betting you didn’t crash into any walls getting up here.”
Max straightened his shoulders despite how hard he shivered as the wind once again began to gain in strength. “Not once, Your Highness. And I came here because that’s what you said I should do if ever there was an attack and the lights went out.”
Andreus had forgotten he’d told Max that the safest place in an attack would be the battlements. The four-story white wall on top of the plateau made it the safest and most secure castle in Eden and in any of the kingdoms beyond the mountains or the waters.
“I heard the apprentices say you were the one who fixed the lights.”
Andreus smiled at the admiration in the boy’s eyes. “The Masters worked on it, too, but yes,” he admitted. “I was the one who found the problem first and figured out how to rework the wires to get the lights on again.”
“I knew it. How did you do it in the dark? Did you—”
“We can talk about that some other time.” Andreus put a hand on Max’s shoulder and steered him toward the stairs down into the castle. “Now, I’m going to ask you some questions while I walk you to your bed.”
Andreus picked up the pace as several members of the guard and a few servants stopped and bowed when he passed. If his sister was right about the test and the sabotage on the lights occurring on the same day not being a coincidence, he didn’t want anyone to overhear him discussing it with Max.
“Did I do something wrong?” Max glanced up at Andreus with fear in his eyes as they reached the first floor. “Did Lady Yasmie . . .”
What had the boy to do with Lady Yasmie? Whatever it was they’d deal with it later.
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, realizing that Max was struggling to keep up with him. Great. Now Andreus was scaring the boy based on his sister’s paranoia. Slowing he said, “I just have a few questions about people you’ve talked to since coming to live at the castle and whether—”
The clanging of a gong sounded in the wide hallway. When he was little the striking gongs filled him with excitement. Now they made his palms sweat and his stomach clench. “My father has returned.”
“The King?” Max yelped. “I thought he was delayed at the southern battlefields. Does this mean we won the war?”
“We can always hope,” Andreus said, knowing if the war had been won his fa
ther would have sent a runner ahead to make sure the army returned to feasts and music and triumph. If only. That alone would have been enough to distract Father from the rest of the Hall of Virtues business for weeks. “Run along to bed. With Father and Micah home, things will be busier for everyone tomorrow. We’ll talk once things have settled down.”
“All right, Your Highness,” Max said with an awkward but enthusiastic bow. Then he turned and bolted down the hallway toward the servants’ quarters and Andreus hurried toward the courtyards that led to the gates of the castle to greet his father and king.
He must have seen the lights go out on his ride. There would be no hiding the event. The best Andreus could hope for was that his father would be content in seeing the problem had been fixed—at least until Andreus figured out who was behind the sabotage and what their reasoning had been.
“Andreus.” His mother’s voice snapped behind him and he turned to watch her, wrapped in a cloak of deep red, striding down the white path. The towering, ever-present Oben was trailing silently behind her.
“Mother, I didn’t expect you to come to the gates or I would have waited for you.” Ever since Andreus could remember, Father insisted on being greeted when the gongs sounded his return, but Mother never once that he could remember followed that decree. Instead, she waited for Father to come find her and to beg forgiveness for leaving her behind at the castle while he went away. Whether she actually missed the King in his absence was debatable, but not as important as the charade that she performed each time he returned.
“Tonight’s mishap with the wind power left me little choice but to defend you and our family from your father’s wrath.”
“I can defend myself.”
“If that were the case, your sister would have a very different life,” she corrected. “But tonight, I will make sure everyone sees their royal family together—united and confident here in our kingdom.”
Andreus understood the command beneath the carefully chosen words. If Micah or Father made comments goading Andreus or Carys, he was to help his sister laugh them off. No confrontations. Not today. “Yes, Mother.”
She pursed her lips and studied Andreus before taking his arm. “Oben tells me you were key in fixing the orb and the other lights so quickly.”
“The Masters—”
“You were the hero of the night,” she snapped. “The Masters failed. Their system broke down because of a mistake they made, and it was the Prince who recognized the problem and restored the light. That is what the Council will proclaim to the city tomorrow. And to all those who hear, that will be the truth. People will speak of how your wisdom pushed back the dark. Do you understand?”
No one would speak of the sabotage. It would be as if it had never happened.
“Yes, but the Masters—”
“The Masters know their place. Oben has already made sure they have all been suitably encouraged to hold their tongues, and any who might not have been dealt with. And tomorrow you will instruct the Masters in what you found in order to ensure this kind of thing never happens again.”
Andreus pulled his cloak tighter as they approached the gate and the people clustered around it. Dozens of Eden’s citizens regularly turned out to greet the King. No doubt they were right now praising Micah for the number of soldiers he had beheaded on the field of battle.
Andreus scowled. War was barbaric—and so often pointless with little achieved. So easy to applaud and glorify from a safe distance. He doubted any of his father’s sycophants would cheer so loudly were they sent to the front.
Only as they approached, Andreus realized there were no cheers or bursts of laughter. Just low murmurs beneath the sound of the gong strikes announcing the return of the King.
The people near the gate soundlessly parted for them as they grew near. None could meet his eyes. He felt his mother tense beside him as the gongs went silent. When he saw his sister kneeling on the ground and spotted his brother and father staring up at the stars with unseeing eyes, Andreus understood why.
“What is the meaning of this?” His mother looked at Chief Elder Cestrum, who stood clutching his cloak with his iron claw.
“I am sorry, my queen,” Elder Cestrum said, lingering on the S of sorry. “They should have sent word ahead to warn us . . . to warn you that tragedy has struck.”
Tragedy.
People around him muttered as Andreus stepped forward. For a moment, Andreus could hear nothing other than the sound of his own heart beating. Not his mother, who was pointing at the bodies on the ground. Not Chief Elder Cestrum, who had stepped to the Queen’s side. Or Elder Ulrich, who had his one good eye trained on Andreus while saying . . . something. All of it was drowned out by the thudding of his heart growing faster and louder. Everything inside him tightened and ached. This couldn’t be. He wanted to turn and walk away or, better, wake up because this was clearly some kind of nightmare. His father and brother couldn’t be dead. Kings and princes did not lie on the palace stones dirty and cut and . . . dead.
Then Carys turned and looked up with him, her amber eyes shimmering as a tear streaked down her cheek.
That tear.
His sister never cried in public. Not when she broke her arm when they were seven. Not when their father had her lashed for one of her outbursts. Not ever. She wanted—she needed—people to believe that she could never be broken. She said shields were strong. And she believed that her job was to be his shield.
But that one drop made it real. That shield was broken now. And half their family was gone.
“No,” a voice shouted from behind him. Everyone turned as Imogen, the hood of her purple cloak falling away, pushed through the crowd. “This cannot be.” She staggered forward and stopped when she caught sight of Micah’s body. “This is not supposed to be.” She swayed as she stared at Micah’s dirt-streaked face. “This is not supposed to be!”
“Imogen.” Andreus stepped forward and put a hand on her arm—the first time he’d touched her since that night. He told himself it was touching her that was causing the tingling sensation in his arm. Nothing more. “Micah would want you to be strong now.”
She shook her head and looked up at Andreus. Her dark eyes swam with confusion. “The Crown Prince wanted to rule. I was supposed to be at his side. I saw it in the stars.”
“You saw nothing.” His mother spat the words at Imogen and the seeress flinched with each one. “You are useless—and because of your weakness my son is dead.”
Imogen pulled away from Andreus as his mother yanked her arm away from Oben, who had appeared at her side to steady her. She stepped around Imogen with a glare, then stormed toward the members of the King’s Guard, who were standing not far from where the bodies lay. “How did this happen? How did my husband and son die?” Pointing to the King’s Guardsmen, she turned to Elder Cestrum and demanded, “And how is it that these men who swore on their own lives to defend my husband and son survive while their king and crown prince were hunted like animals?”
Andreus looked at the men standing at the top of the steps just behind the bodies of his father and brother. Five members of the King’s personal guard. All one hundred had accompanied the King to the battlefields along with fifty of Micah’s guard and another thousand foot soldiers and knights. The foot soldiers and knights would have stayed to bolster the war effort. But the personal guards would have traveled home with the King and Crown Prince. One hundred and fifty men would have had his father and brother surrounded. And still they fell.
The men shifted and looked toward Chief Elder Cestrum and the rest of the Elders who stood behind the head of the Council.
“Answer your queen,” Andreus said. Each word took more effort than the last. The tingling in his arm was turning to icy pinpricks. His heart was pounding even louder in his ears. Carys stood and came to his side, watching him carefully. Did she hear the tension in his voice? She must have. Carys had been around almost every time he’d had an attack. She knew the signs as well as he did.
But sometimes the symptoms were minor.
This was minor. It had to be. He couldn’t afford for it to be otherwise.
Carys stood next to him, her chin raised. Her eyes clear and determined. His sister was back to being strong. No more tears fell as she stood beside him, her back straight as a board.
“Yes,” Chief Elder Cestrum said loud enough for all standing nearby to hear. “Tell your queen—tell us all—how it is that you are here instead of dead on the battlefields to the south.”
Andreus tried to breathe slow and deep, but the breaths would only come shallow and fast. He pushed aside his concern as the tallest of the guardsmen, with a full, dark beard and seven stripes on each shoulder to indicate he was a member of the King’s elite force, stepped forward and bowed. “My queen, it is true we failed you and our king and prince, but it did not happen on the battlefields.”
“Then where?” Carys asked, stepping away from Andreus. “Where did my father and brother fall?”
Andreus forced himself to concentrate on the man’s words and not on Imogen’s stricken face. Or the sweat trickling down his neck and his back. Or the pain that pulsed through him with every heartbeat. Growing stronger.
“It was an ambush, Your Highness. At least a hundred of them in white-and-red livery swarmed out of the wilds of the Tempera. By the time we knew what was happening, the King had fallen from his horse and over half of our men were dead. The surprise was an advantage too great to be overcome. All but the five of us fell to the cowards of Adderton’s swords.”
“Impossible,” Carys said under her breath so quietly that Andreus was sure only he had heard her under the gust of wind that tugged the cloaks around them. He could see the way she studied the men who failed to see their father and brother home. Then she stared at their father and brother’s bodies and frowned. There was something she saw that he didn’t. He tried to focus on what that might be, but the pain was spreading and it was all he could do to not gasp aloud.
“The attackers killed the King and Prince and just happened to leave the five of you alive?” Elder Ulrich stepped forward and trained his good eye on the men.