“Where’s my sister?”
“Resting, Your Highness. She refused to let me stay with her and had a difficult night.”
Carys had been alone.
Guilt swirled as he walked to his sister’s bedroom and pushed open the ornate double doors.
The room was dim. Candles glowed in the sconces next to the entrance and one near the bed where his sister slept face first on top of the bedcovers, still in the dress she’d been wearing when last he saw her. Then he saw the familiar glass bottle next to her and the shards on the floor.
She’d taken two of them.
A quarter of a bottle of their mother’s Tears of Midnight should have eased the pain. Two years ago, Carys had needed a full bottle to get through the night after the last ball their father had allowed here in the castle. Andreus had known his sister was in trouble before that day. Her eyes had looked glassy. She’d lost weight so her normally thin figure appeared brittle. And even when perfectly brushed her hair had appeared dull and limp. He’d been terrified at how still she was for hours after taking so much of the drink.
After that moment, day by day she’d taken less and less until her eyes were bright again and her brain once more as quick as a flash.
He’d believed her when she said she was done needing the red bottles.
She’d lied.
Carys shifted on the bed, her hand stretched out as if trying to reach something—probably whatever was in one of the vivid dreams filled with cyclones of wind that she’d had since he could remember. She reached out again, then let out a low moan and winced with pain. He waited for his sister to wake, but her eyes didn’t open. Despite the light, the Tears of Midnight had her firmly entrenched in the dark.
Slowly, he sat on the bed next to her and loosened the fastenings on her dress so he could see the punishment she’d taken for him. He shifted the fabric as gently as he could. Still his sister flinched as he examined the angry lines of raised red and purple that ran from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back. Blood was caked over a small section in the center where the strap had struck hard enough to break through the skin.
And under those painful-looking wounds were other scars. No longer red and painful, but reminders nonetheless of the curse he’d been fighting all his life. He’d tended to those wounds when she’d gotten them. He hadn’t been here last night. But surely Juliette should have been.
Damn Carys and her pride.
She would not let her maid clean the cut and apply Madame Jillian’s ointments to the rest. If she’d allowed that, she wouldn’t have needed to be drugged into unconsciousness now. Carys should know better. She should have thought about what would happen today. Their mother would need them to help plan the funeral. She’d want to know why Carys was absent, as would the Council and the rest of the court.
Well, he’d just have to come up with a reason and hope Carys would emerge from this ready to bury their father and Micah tomorrow.
Carefully, he replaced the fabric over his sister’s back and left the chamber. “Take care of Princess Carys’s wounds and see no one comes in here until she’s feeling up to visitors.”
“But, Your Highness, the Princess said—”
“The Princess is . . . deeply asleep. She won’t be aware of your ministrations.” Then he turned and went to find his mother and to do his duty.
The day passed quickly. His mother was distracted as people asked her questions about which rooms to prepare for foreign dignitaries and guests who arrived from the kingdom’s districts for the funeral and the coronation that would follow.
Andreus was thankful Oben was quick with a reply to the questions that everyone else found so important and Andreus had no clue how to deal with. Meanwhile, his mother seemed not to care about anything at all—not even about her daughter’s absence—as she paced the dais of the Hall of Virtues, glancing every few minutes at the gold-and-sapphire throne. The only thing that seemed to catch her attention was when Chief Elder Cestrum appeared flanked by Elder Ulrich and Captain Monteros.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Elder Cestrum said with a bow. “I’m sorry to interrupt the plans for the funeral and your coronation, but Captain Monteros and I were just at the North Tower. All five remaining members of the King’s Guard are dead.”
“No. They can’t be dead.”
Andreus looked behind the Elder and captain and saw Carys standing with her hand on a gold pillar at the main entrance of the Hall of Virtues.
“I thought they were to be questioned before they died,” Carys continued as she stepped into the hall.
Elder Cestrum turned toward Carys and bowed. “They were, Your Highness. The Council was set to interrogate them this morning. But when we went to their cells to retrieve them, we found all five of them on the floors of their cells—dead. It appears they were poisoned.”
7
“Poisoned?” Carys tried to focus on her words instead of the pounding of her heart and her head. The man she talked to in the cell last night knew something more about how her father and brother had died. And now he had taken that information to his grave. “Were any of the other prisoners in the North Tower found dead?”
“No, Princess,” Captain Monteros answered. “It was only the five members of the King’s Guard.”
“So they weren’t poisoned by spoiled food or tainted water. Someone deliberately murdered these men before the King’s justice could be delivered.” Or before she could bargain with them to learn the truth.
Her stomach rolled. Her skin felt tight and her head throbbed. She should have taken more than just a sip of the Tears of Midnight on waking, but she would be paying the price for last night’s weakness for days to come. The price would be much higher if she gave in to the desperate need for more. A little would take the edge off and keep her functioning. There was too much at stake to give in to the gnawing desire for the warmth and calm the drug provided.
“Someone must have wanted revenge for the death of King Ulron and Prince Micah and thought the crown was moving too slowly,” Captain Monteros said.
“Either way,” Elder Cestrum said, turning back to face the throne, “justice has been delivered. The Council will send out a proclamation letting everyone know the oath-breakers are dead. And once you are officially installed as monarch, my queen, we will want to discuss how best to retaliate against Adderton. The people will want them to pay for their crimes.”
Everyone turned and looked at the Queen, who was running her fingers down the throne as if stroking a lover.
“Mother . . . ,” Carys said, stepping away from the pillar she’d been using for support and across the white polished stone of the throne room. “Did you hear Elder Cestrum? The five Guardsmen have been murdered. We can’t question them.”
The Queen turned and locked eyes with Carys. Then, without a word, she walked down the steps of the dais and out of the hall.
“The Queen is clearly tired,” Andreus said as his mother disappeared around the corner. “This has been a difficult day. I’m sure she’ll deal with any other issues after the funeral is over.”
“If you and your sister have no objection, Your Highness,” the Chief Elder said, adjusting his tunic with his iron claw, “the Council of Elders will make arrangements to have your mother crowned as monarch immediately after tomorrow’s funeral. With the war to the south and Adderton’s ambush within our borders, it would be better not to wait.”
“Do what you must.”
“Very well, Your Highness.”
The Chief Elder and Captain Monteros turned and filed past Carys, who waited for the space to clear before walking the length of the vaulted gold-and-white hall toward her brother. Each footstep echoed in the huge room decorated with murals representing the seven virtues. Above and behind the throne that Andreus stood next to was a smaller version of the orb that until last night had never been allowed to go dark.
Carys stopped in front of the dais stairs and stood watching her brother. Willing him
to speak. To explain where he was last night and why he chose to abandon her when she needed him most.
When the silence continued, she asked, “How are you today?”
“Fine,” he said, looking around the hall before coming down the steps, holding out his hands to her. “I’m completely fine. How are you?”
Carys looked at his hands, but did not take them. The hurt between them was too fresh, but there was no time to dwell on that. “The King’s Guardsmen were not telling the truth about what happened to Father and Micah. That’s why they were murdered.”
Andreus dropped his hands to his side. “What are you talking about?”
“I spoke to one of them briefly last night before . . . ” No. Under the calm of the drug, she could feel the pulse of the pain. She couldn’t think about that now. “Father and Micah were in the center of their men when the attack happened, but both of them were killed before they had a chance to defend themselves. I was going to question him today, only now he and the others are dead.”
“What are you saying, Carys?”
“I’m saying the story we were told isn’t true,” she whispered, looking around to make sure the room remained empty. “Or not entirely. Adderton might have been part of the attack, but there must have been others who helped set it up. Others that Father and Micah trusted. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Her brother took her arm. “You’re saying members of the King’s Guard killed their King? Why?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe the Bastians are maneuvering once again to take back the throne. Maybe Adderton has decided they would have a better chance negotiating peace if the two men who enjoy fighting the war were no longer in charge.”
Or maybe it was someone else pulling the strings. The Council of Elders. One of the District High Lords or someone Carys had yet to consider. The list of those who wanted power was too endless to count.
“All I do know,” she insisted, “is that the lights were sabotaged last night. The King and Prince return dead, and the only people who can tell the truth about what happened were murdered in their cells. Do you think all of that is a coincidence?”
“I don’t know.” Andreus raked a hand through his hair and paced across the gleaming white floor. “It’s hard to believe that the attack and the sabotage could be related.”
“Did you talk to the boy?”
“I started to. Then the gongs sounded and . . .” He shook his head. “By the time I got back to my rooms . . . I had other things on my mind.”
Other things.
“I know.” She held her breath, waiting for him to apologize. To tell her that they were still a team. When he said nothing, she walked past him and stared at the throne on the dais above. “Lady Imogen appeared to have other things on her mind, too. I was foolish enough to believe you’d be there to help me.”
“I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.” She turned. “But we both know there are more important things to deal with, so let’s put it in the past.” Far behind Andreus, she spotted someone duck behind a column and lowered her voice. “If there’s someone plotting against our family we have to figure it out before it’s too late. Go find Max and ask him who he’s spoken with, but take care no one sees the two of you together. Last night I spoke with one of the King’s Guard and today all of them are dead.”
Andreus looked at her as if he wanted to say something, then sighed. “It might take a while to find Max and get him alone without anyone seeing us. Once I do, I’ll let you know what I find out. You should get some rest before then. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
Yes. She thought of the sorrow and the uncertainty and felt the tantalizing tug of need for the drink that would make it all better. Knowing she couldn’t give in, she knew tomorrow would be very long indeed.
White was the color of purity. Black was the color of death. Purple the color of nobility. Her father and brother were draped in all three colors today to show death that they were pure of heart and leaders of their people as they walked through the gates of death’s realm. Carys wore the deepest of purple as she stood next to her brother, also draped in the dark hue. Chief Elder Cestrum stood at the front of the chapel with Imogen. Both were dressed in white as they prepared to oversee the final ceremony of Carys’s father’s and brother’s lives.
Which could only happen when her mother arrived.
Carys could hear the rustling of fabrics and the not-so-discreet murmurs of speculation of the court and visiting lords behind them. Their mother had not shown up to greet the Lords of the Seven Districts who had arrived throughout the night and this morning. And the farewell service for the King and Prince was supposed to have started a long time ago.
“One of us should have gone with Elder Jacobs to get Mother,” she whispered to Andreus. Standing in the chapel now, it was hard to get the Councilman’s words from the other night out of her head. He’d warned her about the dangers of the North Tower. The next day the five King’s Guardsmen were dead.
“We were trying to make it less obvious that she wasn’t here.” Andreus had spent the morning once again trying to track down Max, who had gone into hiding after their discussion last night.
The boy claimed he never once said anything about Andreus or what he knew about the wind-powered lights. The way the boy answered the question and dashed off to help in the kitchens made her brother think the boy had bragged to someone and was worried about getting expelled from the castle.
In the meanwhile, an uproar was slowly growing behind them. The time was getting late. There was a long ride to the tomb ahead of them. Any later and darkness would be descending when they returned.
“Elder Ulrich and Lord Marksham have sent several pages to remind Mother of the time. Just breathe. We have no choice but to stay here and wait. This will all be over soon,” Dreus said, taking Carys’s cold hand in his warm one. “You’ll see.”
“Queen Betrice!” someone announced.
Carys let out a sigh of relief as she and Andreus turned. Everything inside Carys stilled as people dropped into bows and curtsies while their queen walked down the aisle in a billowing yellow dress. Her brown hair flowed loose around her shoulders. That and the smile tugging at her mouth gave her almost a girlish look—so different than the severe style she had often encouraged Carys to emulate.
“Looking serious is the only way people will treat you seriously.”
Perhaps now that she reigned, Mother no longer felt like she needed to look a certain way?
Mother didn’t say a word as she took her place next to Andreus, directly in front of the white stone dais where King Ulron lay with his arms crossed over his chest.
Elder Cestrum waited for the Queen to instruct him to begin. When she didn’t, Lady Imogen stepped toward the Queen and quietly asked, “Your Majesty, would you like us to start?”
“Of course.” Mother smiled. “Let the festivities begin.”
Festivities?
Carys didn’t have time to think about her mother’s behavior as Imogen turned and walked to seven candles standing on gold pillars behind the bodies of Micah and her father.
Imogen stood behind the first of them and lit it as Elder Cestrum intoned, “Humility.”
Imogen moved on to the next, looking strong and confident as she always did when performing her duties. So different than the way she presented herself when she wasn’t acting as seer.
“Strength.”
Then another—each virtue announced for each candle lit. Patience. Chastity. Temperance. Charity. Endurance.
Carys watched the candles flicker as the Chief Elder spoke of the crown’s defense of the virtues and the power of the light to keep the kingdom safe. It was easier to watch the shifting of the flames than look at the faces of her brother or father. But soon the words were over and the seer and Chief Elder stood on either side of her brother. They took the edges of a cloth decorated with the symbols of the virtues and pulled it up to cover Mi
cah’s body.
Andreus took Carys’s hand in his and she clung to it like the lifeline that it was. The pressure behind her eyes and in her chest swelled against the barrier the Tears of Midnight had erected as the cloth shifted over her brother’s face.
The seer and elder then walked to the center of the chapel and repeated the process with the King. This time Carys forced herself to look at his face for as long as she could. To remember. And as the cloth settled over it, she vowed she wouldn’t let those behind his death escape justice.
The rest of the Council appeared. In the candlelight, they lifted both covered bodies into wooden caskets and carried them from the chapel. Carys followed her mother and brother down the aisle after them and through the castle and down the steps to the city below, where they would then ride to escort the King and Prince to their final resting place.
The gongs rang again as they walked down the stairs to where their horses waited. Andreus had to help their mother mount her horse. In the blue cloak Oben had convinced her to wear, the Queen waved to the people solemnly lining the streets while the procession made its way to the main gates and then turned toward the mountains.
As she rode around the plateau toward the peaks beyond the plains Carys glanced behind her. The line of horses stretched for at least a mile. One broad face framed by red hair turned, caught her attention, and held it. Even from a distance she could make out the exact hazel color of his eyes, the wide crooked nose, and the mocking smile she’d found so fascinating when he and Micah sparred on the guards’ practice fields.
Until a year ago, Lord Garret had been Micah’s best friend. Then one day Carys woke up and heard he’d gone. Garret’s uncle, Elder Cestrum, would only say that Garret had returned to help his father oversee the District of Bisog, and Micah refused to discuss the real reason no matter how artfully she asked. No one, not even Chief Elder Cestrum, had spoken Garret’s name since.
And now Garret had returned.
He smiled to let her know she was staring. With a frown, she turned and studied the river to the south where she and her brother had played as children. She would not give in to the desire to glance behind her to see if Garret was still watching. She was older now than when she’d first felt her breath catch any time he walked into a room—his hair looking like it was on fire. Since then, she’d learned not to be impressed by thick muscles or chests as round as wine barrels. Just because something looked as if it could keep you safe didn’t mean it would.