Turning, Andreus limped down the street toward the noisy, run-down inn and almost smiled when a group of three men and two women burst out of the front door.
One of the men slid his arm around one of the girls and tried to kiss her only to get shoved back into a post for his effort. Andreus shivered in the cold even as sweat dripped down his back. He concentrated on walking without a limp. As he got closer, Andreus realized the girls were near to his age and the men only a few years older. All were dressed in well-made, sturdy cloaks lined with fur. Not noblemen and -women, but from wealthy families. Likely merchant class who were slumming in this part of town. Clearly, they must have been drinking for some time, because the men were swaying as they walked.
They were perfect.
As they turned in his direction, he asked, “Is the common room closed so early?”
“No. The only thing done early is our coin.”
Andreus pushed off his hood and took a step forward so he now stood in the flickering light of one of the street torches. The black-haired girl standing next to the man who spoke gasped and dipped into a curtsy.
“King Andreus!”
He put a finger to his lips, pushed aside the pain that was making it harder for him to stay upright and gave his best flirtatious smile. “Shhh. I don’t want to announce to everyone that I’m here. I’ve had little privacy in the past few weeks and am desperate to talk to normal people instead of those desperate for favors.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The girl with long, red hair returned his smile with a wide one of her own.
“How is the wine at this inn?”
“Not much worth the coin we spent on it, your lordship,” said a dark-haired young man as he staggered to the side, grabbed onto his friend to steady himself, and almost took both of them to the ground. But that hadn’t deterred him. “This inn won’t even allow us to buy on credit. Not even when I told them who my father was. They should have more respect for their betters.”
Andreus reached into the bag tied to his belt and pulled out several gold coins. “Maybe you can buy superior wine and gain a bit more respect with this?” He carefully placed the coins into the hand of the man who seemed to be the most in control of his faculties. “The next round is on me.”
The men let up a cheer. The girls appeared less enthusiastic as they watched their escorts head back into the inn with shouts for the best ale in the place.
“You are very generous, Your Majesty,” the redhead said with a seductive smile.
“It is easy to be generous when I am looking at such charming and beautiful women.” Andreus caught the girl’s hand in his own and lifted it to his lips. He reached for the hand of the ebony-coiffed girl, who looked flustered as he performed the same gesture with her. Still holding the hands of both women, he said, “I have to get back to the palace, but would love to learn more about both of you and hear your thoughts on what is happening in the city. Perhaps the two of you would like to join me somewhere more private to take our refreshment?”
Without a backward glance at the inn or the young men they had spent the evening with, the women tucked their hands in the crooks of his arms and giggled as they walked with him.
Clenching his jaw, he asked the girls their names and about their families and laughed at something the redhead said that he knew was supposed to be charming. He was too busy fighting the pain and attempting to look as if everything was normal to pay real attention.
“Your Majesty!” The guards turned and stood at attention as he and his escorts came around the corner and headed toward them. “We thought you were still up on the wall. Some of the guards . . . we thought there was a problem. One of your guards might have lost his footing, and we were worried when you did not return.”
“I hope the guardsman did not cause himself harm,” Andreus said as the image of the man’s crumpled body flashed in his mind. “As for me, I found myself farther down the wall and opted to come down in that spot.” Andreus laughed. “Which was lucky since I met these two lovely ladies in the process.” He winked at the younger of the two guards who was gaping with surprise. “They will be returning to the Palace of Winds with me.”
Getting on his horse was a struggle, but he managed, then instructed the two guardsmen he’d heard speaking earlier to give up their horses to the ladies. Walking was a small price to pay for their willingness to sell information about his movements to one of the Elders, but it would have to do—for now. If they had something more to do with the attack, Andreus would make sure their penalty was steeper.
When his party reached the steps that led to the gates of the Palace of Winds, Chief Elder Cestrum, Elder Ulrich, and Elder Jacobs came hurrying out of the entryway with several of the officers of the palace’s guard just steps behind. All of them wore expressions of dismay.
“Your Majesty,” Elder Jacobs called. “We are relieved to see you are safe!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Andreus asked with a practiced smile while studying each of the faces in front of him, searching for signs of disappointment at his appearance.
“We heard rumors that there were disturbances in the city and that at least two members of the guard are dead.” Elder Ulrich turned his good eye on Andreus—with concern or calculation? “We were just ordering additional guards to find you. Eden could not survive if something else happened . . .”
“I’m fine.” Andreus laughed. “I’m sorry if you were worried, but the light was quickly repaired and I am going to celebrate by having dinner with my new friends. Let me know if you have news about what happened to the deceased guards.” He turned and beckoned the girls forward and once again had them take his arms.
“Andreus may be King, but he has not changed,” he thought he heard Elder Cestrum mutter.
Yes, I have, Andreus thought as he stiffly made his way inside. And he was going to make those who were attempting to take his throne pay. He only had to unmask them, and now with the help of his escorts he knew exactly where to begin.
9
“It’s me,” Garret’s voice whispered in the night. A moment later, Carys heard a snap of twigs and saw the shadow of Garret navigating his mount into the grove of trees where Carys had been waiting for him to return from the town. As much as she’d wanted to join him, she could not risk being recognized. Not again.
He swung down from his mount. Leaves crunched under his feet as he crossed the space between them. “I’m sorry it took me so long. Naila’s blacksmith was harder to track down than I’d hoped. But he did provide me with directions. We should reach the Village of Night in less than an hour if we start riding now.”
The whispering grew louder in her mind at his words, as if warning her not to go. Or maybe it was her own fears that caused her to doubt this course of action. The Village of Night would provide not only answers about Imogen, but about Carys herself. Answers she wasn’t sure she wanted.
In the two days since leaving Naila, Carys had tried not to think about the quiet voice in the corners of her mind that called to her—beckoned her to embrace the force that had torn a man apart. Disgust at what the wind had done warred with the desire to wield the power again.
“We will wait to make sure no one from the village followed you before we start out,” she said. Perhaps Larkin would be waiting when they arrived. Carys had watched for her friend as they rode, but there had been no sign of her. Or Errik.
Here was another string of thought she wished to avoid. Errik had taken Larkin, and yet, despite this, every morning Carys woke and looked first for him.
Foolish. It had to be fear that made her yearn for the warmth and safety she had once believed his touch represented. And still . . .
“You don’t have to be afraid of what you feel, Carys,” Garret said quietly.
Carys jerked her eyes toward Garret, wondering what he saw on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve known you for a long time, Princess.” Garret stepped closer. “I know
your expressions as well as I know my own.”
Did he? She shook her head. “I am merely impatient to get the answers I seek and return to Garden City.”
“You are scared of the power growing stronger inside you with every passing day.” Before she could deny it, he put a hand on her arm and looked into her eyes. “Carys, I’ve known what you are capable of for a long time. You tried to bury it inside you, but your power is too strong to be denied. You had to pretend with the others, but you don’t ever have to pretend to be less than you are with me. I saw what you did at the farm.”
The whispering in her head grew louder. Her heart pounded. “We have to get going.”
His fingers tightened on her arm. “You have changed the subject each time I have tried to talk to you of your gifts. You are scared of who you are becoming, but you don’t have to be.”
“You know nothing!”
“I know more than you think. I want nothing more than to help you, but I can only do that if you realize you can trust me.”
“Your uncle declared my mother’s grief-filled words insane and removed her from succession. He unearthed an obscure law in order to see you seated on the Throne of Light, and at the same time you just happened to arrive back at the Palace of Winds. And you wish for me to set all that aside and simply trust you?”
“My uncle’s choices are not my own, and I had good reason to leave the palace and to return when I did.”
“So you say.”
“Yes! So I say. I am not my uncle just as you are not your family. I am my own man just as you are your own woman.”
Carys frowned. She had never been her own person. She had never been allowed to be. She was the other half of Andreus. The other side of his reflection, whether she wanted to be or not.
“Then tell me why I should trust you,” she demanded as the whispers inside her head returned. “Tell me what you think you know about me and why you came back.”
“I left for the same reason that I returned. Because of you.” The wind pushed back the hood of his cloak, and his hair gleamed like dying embers in the moonlight.
The whispering stopped. Her stomach tightened. Garret turned and looked at her with a hunger in his eyes that made her step back. This wasn’t the gentle admiration that Errik’s gaze had expressed. It was a need to consume.
“Why?” she asked. “Because you want the throne? Because you think you’ll gain it through me?”
“I have no need of the throne if I have you.” Garret held her gaze, then raked a hand through his hair as he explained. “When I was ten my father sent me to court with my uncle and one instruction. I was to befriend the Crown Prince and become indispensable to him, which I was happy to do.”
“Micah was glad to have your friendship, but that’s not . . .”
Garret turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing. “As I was Micah’s closest confidant, every lord and lady of Eden courted my friendship in hope that I would use my influence to sway his decisions once he ascended the throne. I was given gifts. The furs and jewels I passed along to your brother claiming they were for him, but there were gifts I held back.”
“What kind of gifts?”
“Secrets.” Garret slowly walked toward her. “The Palace of Winds is filled with them. Alliances being made to consolidate power. Plots to gain more land. Speculation about the midwife who went missing after you and Andreus were born. Whispers about meetings held in dark corners with members of the Council of Elders, or those who had purchased the allegiance of the Captain of the Guard. All things I used to help Micah gain the fear and respect of those in the Palace of Winds even as I held back the most important things for myself. After all, your brother was my friend, but I was not foolish enough to think he would not turn against me if the opportunity called for it. That is the way of court and I was happy with that until a few years ago when I was approached by a minor nobleman looking for support in a land dispute with a much more powerful lord. For my assistance, I was given the gift of a woman’s satchel.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with why you are here with me now.”
Garret continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “The man who gave it to me said it belonged to one of your father’s mistresses who disappeared years ago.”
The idea of her father’s infidelity was not shocking. Carys had heard whispers about the women who visited the King’s private quarters. Some members of court spoke loudly of it when Carys was among them, no doubt to see what the brooding princess would say or do. She said nothing. She did nothing. As far as she was concerned, as long as her father was occupied, he would have less time to consider Andreus, to puzzle out his curse. “Which mistress?” she asked. There had been many. No doubt more than even she knew about.
“It was Lady Diandra of Vigoral Keep,” Garret said quietly. Before Carys could react, he added, “She was my uncle’s wife—my aunt. She went missing when I was four years old. My only memory of her is of her drawing pictures for me when she and my uncle came to visit our keep. She was a skilled artist.”
Garret walked over to his horse and reached into one of the saddlebags. “I found a notebook inside with pictures drawn by her hand and notes that made little sense. There was nothing about her affair with the King or anything that could give me additional leverage so I put the book to the side. Then the wind tunnel struck the palace and I pulled the book out again.”
There was the now-familiar sound of flint striking rock, the crackle of flame, and when Garret turned he was holding a lit torch in one hand and a small leather-bound book in the other.
He opened to a page marked with a blue ribbon, crossed the distance between them, and held the book out to her. “My aunt had drawn this.”
The drawing took up both pages. A wind tunnel. It was drawn with skill that took Carys’s breath away. Beneath the tunnel, a man cowered. The man’s face wasn’t visible, but there was no mistaking the distinct star atop the staff he clutched in his hands. It was the same staff that Seer Kheldin—the seer who predicted that either she or her twin would be cursed and destroy the kingdom—had never been without. He had had that staff when the wind tunnel appeared in the sky.
“Years before the tunnel hit, my aunt knew what would come and drew it.”
“Your aunt was a seer.” Carys looked up from the book. “I still don’t understand . . .”
“Look at the bottom corner of the page.”
Garret held the torch higher, illuminating the section of parchment that had previously been obscured by shadows. And Carys gasped. The whispers in her head grew louder as she studied the miniature girl, hair streaming behind her, crown perfectly placed atop her head. The girl’s arms were stretched out to the wind—palms up. And on each outstretched hand was a tiny wind tunnel that matched the one in the sky.
The picture was of her.
The image was small and she was younger in the drawing than she was now, but there was no doubt the face was the one she had seen every day in the mirror—although rarely did she smile the way the girl was smiling here.
Carys had been on the battlements when the wind tunnel struck. She had followed Seer Kheldin to watch him attempt to call the wind that had been quiet for weeks. She saw the tunnel appear seconds before it struck one of the palace’s towers. The next thing she remembered was waking up with bandages on her head and her mother placing a small red bottle in her hands—to help with the pain.
“After I saw this picture, I understood what had happened on the battlements. I understood the power you held and how you could conquer the world in the name of Eden. And then I found this.” Garret flipped to the back page and held the torch high.
The page had water stains on it, but the wall surrounding Garden City was still recognizable as was the woman standing atop it. The girl had grown up. He hair hung just beneath her ears. The crown atop her head was larger than before—and appeared to weigh heavy on the frame of the one wearing it. On one side of the image was the blackness of nig
ht. On the other was light. She still held her palms out, but this time she was holding the wind in one hand and the orb in the other.
“My aunt foresaw your power before you were born. She knew the wind tunnel that crushed the turret windmill and almost destroyed the palace. She saw that you would hold the fate of Eden in your hands.”
“So you returned because you wanted the power you thought you had gained by being close to Micah.”
“No.” Garret extinguished the torch on the wet ground, and darkness rushed into the space the light once possessed. “I am attracted to power. I won’t pretend otherwise. In Bisog, strength and power are revered. And there is something seductive about a person who holds the lives of everyone in a kingdom in his . . .” Garret closed the book she held and put his warm hands on either side of hers. “Or her hands. But you were not embracing your power. That remedy—those Tears of Midnight were keeping you from becoming the woman you were meant to be. You were weak, even though the kingdom needed you to be strong, and I knew you would require someone at your side to help you gain that strength.”
Pressed between the book and Garret’s hands, Carys’s fingers were hot. Her heart raced as she looked at the man she had felt a girl’s attraction to. Only she wasn’t a girl anymore. “Is that why you left?” she scoffed. “Because I was weak and you were disappointed?”
“I was the weak one. I didn’t trust you to turn away from the Tears of Midnight on your own, and there were none around you who could help you. Only your brother discovered my plan. He and Oben were waiting for me when I snuck into your chamber intent on stealing you away.”
“You—tried to kidnap me?” How had she not known?
“Your brother was furious at my betrayal. He thought I had feigned my affection for him because I wanted you. Because I wanted to marry you and to move up a place in the line of succession. He gave me a choice—to leave the palace, or be thrown in the North Tower for treason. So I left, but I didn’t abandon you. I sought out those who could teach me about the power inside you so that when the time came I could impart that wisdom to you.”