“You should have died.” Andreus’s mother’s voice cracked like a whip. “Your oath and your honor demanded that you die defending your king and your prince. You should have died!”
The King’s Guardsman stared at the Queen, then swallowed hard and nodded. “I was at the front of the Guard when the fighting started, my queen. I wanted to die defending them. I intended to die.” He glanced at Imogen, who was standing silent and sad and alone. “When I was struck down, I fell not far from where King Ulron lay on the leaves, lifeless. I wanted to rise and avenge his death, but I knew the battle was ended. Most of the King’s Guard were dead. And I realized the only way to truly avenge my liege’s death was to make sure that those who ordered the attack against us were brought to justice. I feigned death so I could recover the bodies of the King and Prince and bring them home . . . to you, my queen.”
The bearded guardsman bowed his head. Andreus’s mother started to tremble and Andreus clenched his fist as pain pulsed and grew and pulled at his chest. His knees went weak. His vision blurred, cleared, then blurred again.
No. Not now. Not today.
“Home?” his mother asked quietly. “You saved your life to bring dead men home? Your king is dead because your King’s Guard forgot how to do its job.” His mother paced in front of the bodies like a rock wolf studying its prey. “There is a penalty for breaking your oath.”
“Surely, my queen,” Elder Cestrum stepped forward, “these men have seen horrors. They can be forgiven—”
“My husband—your king—is dead. My son—the Crown Prince—is dead. There will be no forgiveness. I want their heads.”
The crowd around them gasped and murmured.
“But, my lady,” Elder Jacobs began. “These men have information that is vital to—”
She whirled around and stared at each member of the Council. “I don’t care what they might know. The kingdom will know that an oath to the virtuous crown is the way of the light and those who break their oaths and walk in darkness will perish. Andreus will be the one who shows them. Make room for the King’s justice.”
“Prince Andreus does not have his sword, my queen,” said Chief Elder Cestrum.
He heard his name and the words around it, but the voices sounded as if they were underwater. Muted as the world started to dim. Sweat poured down his back. His heart . . . it hurt. Gods, it hurt. He couldn’t breathe.
“Carys.” The word was strained and barely audible. Pain was spreading faster. Hotter. The pinpricks from before had spread. His chest was tightening. Each breath felt more impossible to take.
“Someone give my son a sword,” his mother screamed. “He will show you what happens to those who do not stay true to Eden and the seven virtues.”
He heard the whispered scraping of metal as it came free of a sheath. No. There was no way he could swing a blade. Not now. His mother would know that if she were paying attention. And now everyone would be watching him.
“Prince Andreus.” He blinked as a blurry guardsman appeared, offering a massive broadsword with both hands. “My blade is yours.”
Everything ached. His vision swam. The pulsing of his blood roared in his ears as he reached out for the sword that was bigger than the one he wore when he wasn’t working with the Masters.
“Do it. For me, my son,” he heard his mother command.
His legs threatened to give way. He’d never be able to lift the sword. Not now. Not with his chest barely able to take in air and his knees weak and fighting to keep him upright. But what choice did he have?
The lights were so bright. The pain of his curse dug deep into his chest.
Cursed.
The Council would see. They would remember the prediction the last seer had made. They would believe Andreus had no virtue in him. No light. They would think he was part of the darkness.
His fingers, slick with sweat, closed over the iron hilt and he willed himself to lift the blade.
“No,” his sister screamed and grabbed the hilt of the sword. Carys made a show of shoving Andreus, even though her hand barely grazed him. But his sister’s action had allowed him to stumble back and everyone thought they understood why.
Those gathered in front of the gate gasped as his sister took the hilt of the sword with both hands and held it low in front of her. His sister’s hair whipped around her face as she yelled, “These men will not die. Not here. Not until I hear everything about how my father and brother were killed.”
“That is not yours to decide, Princess,” Chief Elder Cestrum said.
Carys turned toward him and stepped forward with the sword raised. Everyone watched his sister threatening the head of the Council of Elders. “I will not have the blood of these worthless men stain the ground where my father and brother lie. And do the King and Prince have no more value than trash? Why do they still lie on the ground? Do you not care?”
Andreus staggered backward a step as his sister, still holding the sword in front of her, advanced toward the Council. The crowd around him made sounds of surprise and Andreus took another small step back, then another as he fumbled to find the pocket in his cloak that held the remedy he had with him. His fingers closed around the small black vial he carried with him at all times. The remedy could never cure him. It couldn’t kill the curse he was born with and had hidden every day of his life since. But it helped ease the symptoms when an attack came. He just hoped it wasn’t too late for it to work now.
His fingers weren’t strong enough to pull out the stopper. He had to use his teeth. Then spitting the cork seal to the side, he swallowed the horrific brew as his sister turned toward their mother with the blade still aloft. “Do you care more about the heads of these men than you do about your own king and son? What kind of queen are you?”
A crack of flesh striking flesh pulled gasps from everyone watching. Carys’s head snapped back as their mother’s hand connected with its target. Carys looked at Andreus and their mother struck her face again.
She was telling him to get out of sight. They would come up with an excuse for his desertion later. Now there was no choice.
“How dare you?” their mother demanded, striking out again. This time harder. Carys clenched her jaw but didn’t move. “I am the one who will command what will be done. They will die.”
Andreus took several more painful, unsteady steps back until he finally reached the stone wall and could use it to help him stay upright as he made his way toward the opening.
“There is no peace,” his mother shouted. “Not until all who had a hand in killing my son and husband are put to death. All of them. They will pay. They will all pay.” Andreus held the wall as footsteps grew closer. He watched his mother storm through the gate, followed by Oben and several members of the castle guard. He waited for one of them to turn and see him standing there sweaty and shaking and barely able to stand. But none did.
Under the roar in his ears, Andreus heard Elder Cestrum order the guards to take the sword from Carys and to put her in custody. She would pay for turning the blade toward the Queen.
Andreus wanted to defend his sister. He wanted to make sure she would not be punished for shielding him. But he knew she would never forgive him if the secret she’d protected all these years was revealed. Not when she had done so good a job of distracting the court and the Council—again.
Panting, he willed his legs to move as he held the wall for guidance toward an alcove that was hidden behind several tall bushes. But he was moving so slowly and the world around him was starting to go black. He could hear the footsteps approaching the gate. Voices were getting louder as he lurched forward toward the opening. The windmills churned high above.
One step.
Two steps.
Andreus stumbled into the opening and fell to his knees as the pressure expanded inside him. He gasped for breath as he fell forward. There was another flash of pain. Then everything went black.
5
Carys gripped the heavy sword in her hands as her m
other quietly said something to Chief Elder Cestrum. The Queen then glared at Carys with a rage that took her breath away before she turned and stormed toward the gate with Oben and two members of the guard in tow.
The crowd parted for her and dropped into bows as their queen passed. Then they turned and looked back at her.
Carys held her ground and fought to keep the sword aloft. Her fear for her brother had pushed her to take action. It had given her strength to stand firm against their mother, who should have understood why Carys had done what she did.
The day Carys and Andreus were born, the seer said the Queen would give birth to two children on the same day and within the same hour. One would be pure of spirit. The other would be cursed. Seer Kheldin believed if the child filled with darkness was allowed to live a full life, the curse born with the child would sweep across the kingdom and the light of Eden would darken forever.
According to Mother, she and the midwife did everything possible to make sure none but the two of them ever knew Andreus almost died or that he struggled to catch his breath through the first week, especially when he cried. They were afraid the Council of Elders would see the seer’s curse in Andreus’s fragile state.
The midwife disappeared from the castle one evening two days after their birth. She was found dead, thrown from her horse while riding away from Garden City. Mother said it was the Gods’ way of helping to keep Andreus safe. But the way Mother looked at Oben when she said it told Carys that the Gods had little to do with the accident. Their mother was determined to do whatever was necessary to see Andreus safe from the harm the Council and others might do to him.
How anyone could believe Andreus’s condition could cause the kingdom to fall into darkness was beyond Carys. But people had faith in the power of the seers.
For hundreds of years the people of Eden had been encouraged to believe in the seers’ visions and predictions that promised to keep the kingdom from harm. The stories all said it was a seer who foretold that the castle and the kingdom would fall three hundred years ago. And a seer also saw the rebuilding of the kingdom, a monarch who held fast to the seven virtues, the orb that would someday shine above the castle, and the bloody battle that brought Carys’s grandfather to the throne. Belief in the seers’ magical powers and the forces beyond ordinary knowledge were sacred here. As sacred as the honoring of the winds.
Kings had always had a seer to advise them because the people trusted the visions that came from the Gods. They believed in them with a devotion that scared Carys. Because she knew one day that firm faith in the seers could turn against her brother and end in his death.
But not today. From the way everyone stared, she knew that all of the castle and Garden City tomorrow would be talking about her and the sword she now wielded.
She shifted the heavy blade in her hands. Her arms were growing weary. The fear that had propelled her to act was quickly being replaced by the sorrow and shock she’d pushed to the side. Still, she continued holding the sword and stared down the Council, giving a few last seconds to her brother. Then, looking down at her father and brother’s bodies, Carys let the sword drop from her hands.
Metal clattered on the white stones. The large guardsman who gave up his sword snatched it from the ground with only one hand. And the Council, led by Chief Elder Cestrum, moved toward her.
“I apologize for my outburst, my lords,” she said, lifting her chin the way her mother always did. “But I am glad you agree that these remaining members of the King’s Guard should be questioned. I want whoever was behind this slaughter of my family brought to justice.”
It was the truth. Not the entire truth, but enough that she could say it with absolute conviction. Her father was dead. Her oldest brother cut down. She wanted vengeance against those who took their lives. Killing those who tried to defend them made little sense to her. Oath or no oath.
“My mother is out of her mind with grief,” she continued. “We must not act in haste or out of anger.”
Elder Cestrum pursed his thin lips together as he smoothed the white hair on his chin. “Captain Monteros,” he called.
The longtime captain of the castle’s guardsmen stepped forward.
“Seize these members of the King’s Guard and have them taken to the North Tower. And have your men place King Ulron and Prince Micah’s bodies in the chapel. Women will be sent to prepare them for the funeral.”
Captain Monteros bowed slightly and said, “Yes, my lord.” He glanced at several of his men, who immediately took the surviving members of the King’s Guard into custody. The King’s Guardsman who spoke of why they still lived looked at her, then at Elder Ulrich, then back at her and held her gaze with a fierce intensity as he passed. As if he were trying to tell her something.
“Princess Carys.” Chief Elder Cestrum turned to her, and she knew before he said the words what was coming. She’d known what would happen when she’d grabbed the sword. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been down this road before. Although it had been years since the last time.
With a bow Elder Cestrum explained, “You are to be reprimanded for threatening your mother’s life and defying the will of the Queen. However, the Council has decided that in deference to your sorrow, you are to be given the option of submitting to your punishment now or waiting until tomorrow when you have had a chance to come to terms with your loss.”
“I shall go now,” she said. As much as she wanted to check on her brother, there was little she could do for him. Her punishment tonight would keep the focus on her instead of allowing people to speculate on the absence of Andreus.
“Are you sure, Your Highness?” Elder Ulrich asked as several guardsmen lifted her father and brother’s bodies off the ground and began to carry them inside the castle.
Everything inside her stopped for a second. Tears began to build as the tangible reminder of her loss cut a fresh wound in her heart.
When the bodies disappeared inside the gate, she turned back to Elder Ulrich.
“I’m already in pain, my lord.” She focused on the one blue eye that stared at her with great concern and the mangled, white-scarred slit of the other that could never close and yet would never again see. “Nothing more terrible can happen to me today.”
Elder Ulrich sighed. “As you wish, Princess.”
“Guards!” Chief Elder Cestrum clapped his hands. Two members of the guard appeared next to him. “Please escort Princess Carys to the North Tower. Captain Monteros will meet you there as soon as he can so we can all put this part of the night behind us.”
As if that would ever be possible.
“Very well.” She didn’t wait for the guards before walking through the crowd of court members who continued to watch the drama. A few smirked as she passed. Some whispered to each other, no doubt about other times she’d walked this path and had screamed for her mother to come to her aid. After all, Carys had been doing what her mother instructed. She’d been helping her brother.
Distraction was always a good solution. The first few times when she’d dumped soup on Lord Nigel’s lap, or when she’d tripped Micah’s best friend Garret and he’d plunged headfirst into a fountain, people had laughed and blamed her youth. When she was twelve, her father said he couldn’t expect the Lords of Eden or any of the subjects to adhere to the virtues of the kingdom if his own daughter couldn’t.
“Clearly you need a lesson to serve as a reminder of what happens when you turn from the light. This is done not out of malice but out of love.”
Love.
Was it love to insist your daughter be flogged while two members of the King’s Guard held her down?
Yes. In a strange way it was. The world was safer when people believed justice was the same for the powerless and those in power. It was a lesson her father wanted her to learn. He’d hoped after the first instance she’d never be flogged again.
“Sorry, Father,” she whispered as they reached the entrance of the North Tower. The slighter of the two guards fumbled with
the door then stepped to the side to allow her to enter first.
Torches lit the inside of the tower. The kingdom did not waste the power needed for the safety of the walls on those who had turned from the light. The first floor was used for questioning and was where the Council of Elders held trials for common thieves, poachers, and those who had defaulted on their taxes. Carys sat in one of the chairs used by the Council and watched the shadows cast by the torches shift on the stone walls. Her two guards stood at the door, neither willing to look at her.
She clasped and unclasped her hands. Then Carys rubbed them on her lap as her stomach clenched. The seconds crawled as she watched the door, waiting for Captain Monteros to arrive and mete out the punishment
Everything inside her jittered and she thought about the bottle of the Tears of Midnight she’d left in her room. She hadn’t thought her visit to the city would take long so she hadn’t brought it with her. But it had been hours since she’d taken the much-needed sip of the drink her mother had given to her after the first time she’d been brought to this terrifyingly stark room. If only this tower had been the one swept up into the wind tunnel that struck years ago instead of the tower to the south.
But unlike the men in the cells upstairs, she’d made the choice to come here by standing for Andreus. And she’d leave once the punishment had been given.
The muscles in her legs twitched and her stomach cramped. Nerves? Need? Both?
She stood and looked around the room, feeling as if she was going to jump out of her skin. The walls seemed as if they were closing in. She needed to move.
Spotting the stairs, she said, “I’m going to go upstairs and talk to my father’s men. Let me know when Captain Monteros arrives.” The two guards glanced at each other and Carys started up the steps before they could debate whether she was supposed to remain on the first floor.
The first floor smelled of musty fabric and dirt and mold. That was bad. The floor above it was worse. Sweat. Urine. Rotting hay.