“You’re bleeding.” Errik pulled a scrap of fabric from the pocket of his cloak and wiped under her nose. She started to rise, and the world tilted. Errik put a hand on her shoulder as she settled back onto the ground and he pressed the fabric into her hand. “Lean your head back and apply pressure to make the bleeding slow. Larkin, stay with her while I gather the horses. We don’t want to stay here too long. Not with so many bodies near to draw predators.”
Before Carys could object, Errik stood up and strode toward one of the horses.
“You scared him,” Larkin said quietly.
“I should have told you what I was going to do or that I knew I could, but there wasn’t time.” It hurt to speak. Carys’s voice sounded raspy to her own ears as she rose to her knees and felt a trickle run down her lip. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and she pressed the fabric against her nose. “I’m sorry the wind scared you.”
“It wasn’t the wind that frightened us, Carys,” Larkin said. “We watched the wind take the Xhelozi, and then we turned and saw you. You stood so still even as blood ran down your face. Errik and I fought through the wind to get to you, and when we did . . .” Tears sparkled in Larkin’s eyes. “You didn’t seem to hear us or see us. Not until Errik grabbed your arms and shook you.”
“I’m fine.” The words grated. Carys touched her neck, and Larkin gasped. “What?”
“There are bruises on your neck.”
To surrender to the wind in anger or fear is to unleash a power that can destroy not only your enemies, but yourself. There is no virtue when you lead with fear. There is only darkness and destruction and death.
The throbbing in her throat grew as the seconds passed. Carys pulled away the scrap of fabric to see if the bleeding had eased. The fabric was drenched with the blood that still dribbled down her face.
Carys shivered. Larkin tore a piece from her hem and Carys pressed it hard against her nose as fear filled her anew. Using her terror—her anger—was the only way she could make certain the wind responded to her. She had done what she had to do. But could she do it again and survive? Could she take her throne and destroy her enemies without it?
The bleeding stopped by the time Errik returned leading the horses. “We should find somewhere to hole up and rest for a few hours,” he suggested, glancing at Carys, who nodded. The Bastian army was getting ready to attack Garden City, but the horses would give out soon, and so would they. “Did you and your father happen to stay in any caves near here?” he asked Larkin.
There weren’t any caves, but after several leagues, they spotted a barn next to a partially collapsed cottage. The old barn was missing boards in the walls and tilted to the right in an alarming way. The structure creaked and shuddered as they opened the door and led the horses inside. Debris from above rained down on their heads when it closed behind them.
Holes in the ceiling that would be less than helpful during a rainstorm allowed slivers of moonlight through on the clear but cold night. Larkin waved them into a small room in the back corner of the barn. “We should sleep in here.”
Errik and Carys agreed. The room was no less rotting than the rest of the building, but the extra set of walls blocked some of the chill from outside.
“I don’t think we should post a watch. We all need sleep if we are going to keep up this pace,” Errik said, settling onto the ground. “The horses will alert us to danger, and dawn will be here before we know it.”
Larkin didn’t need to be told twice. She curled up on the ground next to a crumbling hearth and closed her eyes. Errik did the same. Every muscle in her body ached with fatigue, but when Carys closed her eyes sleep refused to come. Instead, the memory of the power she wielded returned, as did the triumph she felt when she unleashed the wind and allowed it to destroy. She had embraced her fear and anger and the wind had answered. It had also exacted a price.
Touching the tender flesh at her throat, Carys sat up. She glanced at Errik and Larkin to make sure they were asleep then pushed to her feet and headed into the main, open section of the barn.
A nicker and the soft blowing breath of the horses greeted her. Their presence was reassuring as she moved across the barn to the far wall. Several boards were missing here, which gave her a clear view of the horizon.
Seeress Kiara had told Carys it was possible to safely wield the wind. She just had to stay in control of her anger.
Trust.
Calm.
Carys closed her eyes and pictured the windmills atop the Palace of Winds. The pulsing of the blades was as much a part of her blood and life as her twin. The wind lit her world. It had kept away the Xhelozi. Without the churning of the blades, her kingdom would not be the same. If the windmills faltered . . .
The whispering returned. Hay swirled around her.
Carys released the fist she had unknowingly clenched and pictured the tunnels beneath the Palace of Winds. The hay settled and the knot of anger that was so quick to burst into flame faded.
She took several deep breaths and reached out her mind to the wind. Calm. Trust.
I’m surrendering! Answer me!
Nothing.
She shook her head.
Her stilettos went where she aimed. She knew the damage they would do when she unleashed them on her enemies. But her blades could only do so much. There were thousands in the Bastian forces amassing now to seize the throne. And the Xhelozi might soon be strong enough to overcome the wind-powered lights. The darkness in the kingdom was growing, and that darkness was adding to their strength. Carys had to put a stop to them and help restore the balance of virtue in the kingdom.
Only, without the wind, she had no idea how.
Something snapped behind her. She reached for a stiletto, swung around, and let out a relieved burst of air as Errik stepped from behind a beam.
“I thought you were sleeping,” she said, sliding the blade back into its sheath.
“I thought we should talk.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I owe you an apology. I should never have believed Garret when he said he woke and found you and Larkin missing. I—”
“That was not what I was referring to.” Errik crossed to her side. “However, since you mentioned it, I’d like to say that considering my blood-tie to Imogen and the Bastians, what happened was not a surprise. It’s understandable you would think the worst when you were told Larkin and I had disappeared. Only a fool would have trusted me under those circumstances. And you, Princess, are not a fool.”
“Those who believe they cannot be fooled are perhaps the greatest fools of all.”
“True,” he conceded quietly. “Your brother did not believe he was capable of being fooled.”
“And I trusted him. I trusted Garret,” she admitted. “So what does that make me?”
“Human.” He smiled, and her stomach fluttered. “You are allowed to make mistakes. We both have made them. We both are sorry for them and now we are here together again.” He held out his hand and waited.
“I was going to kill you.”
“Yes.” He sighed and lowered his hand. “I wish you would stop doing that.”
“I wanted to trust you, but I was scared to let myself. I don’t think I’m capable of trusting the way I need to—the way Seeress Kiara told me I must. The blood and the bruising . . .” Carys touched her still-tender neck. “If I am scared or angry when I use this power . . .”
“You cause harm to yourself.”
She nodded.
“You’ve survived all these years with the power inside you. Surely, you can . . .”
“I didn’t know I had power before the Trials. The drink my mother gave me masked the talent,” Carys admitted. “But there is a way. Kiara said I had to learn to trust the winds. That to control them, I had to first calmly surrender to them. That’s what I was trying to do before you startled me.”
Errik raised an eyebrow. “You, Princess, have never surrendered to anything in your life.”
A laugh tripped
out of her, and Errik responded with a lopsided grin.
“Well, this is one problem I might have a solution to. But first, you have to close your eyes.”
“What will . . .”
He placed a finger gently over her mouth. “You said you have to learn to trust before we get to Garden City. So the two of us are going to practice trust. You can’t ask any questions and you can’t open your eyes until I say you can. Now, do you trust me?”
She wanted to.
Carys closed her eyes and Errik slipped his hand out of her grasp. Her heart pounded. She itched to move as she waited.
Leaves and hay crunched.
A horse nickered.
The barn creaked.
And nothing was happening.
In a few days, she would see her twin again. A few days and her brother would once again move to kill her if she didn’t stop him or maybe kill him first. And she was just standing here.
Calm, she reminded herself. She unclenched her fist and waited.
Errik’s footsteps came closer. His hand touched hers. Slowly, he interlaced their fingers. She felt his body no more than a breath away. Then Errik rested his forehead against hers.
She could hear his heart beating. Or maybe it was hers. Her breathing joined with his. The hair on her neck fluttered. The whispers returned. No. Not whispers. The sound was less insistent. Almost as if it, too, was waiting.
Errik’s lips grazed her temple. Warmth spun from her stomach down to the tips of her toes. Then the warmth was gone as Errik stepped back.
“Do you trust me?”
She had only to think of the safety she felt when their hands were joined to nod.
More leaves crunched.
“Carys, would you please turn around,” he requested.
She did as he asked and waited for him to put his arms around her. Instead he quietly said, “Now fall backward. I promise you won’t hit the ground.”
Her heart pulsed hard against her chest.
Calm.
The whisper of the wind seemed to echo the word in her mind.
Trust.
Surrender.
Could she?
Errik had risked his life to save hers. If she couldn’t trust him to catch her, whom could she trust?
Carys released the breath she was holding, let go of the fear and the doubt, and leaned back, not caring if she hit the ground.
She never did.
Hands cradled her as she knew they would. They were gentle. Soft. Warmth flooded her. And after several moments, she was lifted up until once again she was standing on her feet.
“Turn and open your eyes.”
Carys spun then froze when she spotted Errik several lengths away standing near a splintered beam.
“How does it feel to float on air?” Errik strode forward. “The wind caught you. You trusted and it came.”
Carys put her hand to her nose. No blood. “You said you were going to catch me.”
“No, I said you wouldn’t hit the ground. I was ready to leap forward and break your fall if I was wrong.”
Carys wanted to be angry at the deception, but it was hard considering the hope swirling through her now. She had called the wind. It wasn’t deliberate. She had simply thought of not wanting to fall and she hadn’t. Just as when she had seen Larkin in danger. She had wanted to keep her friend safe, and the wind snapped the arrows before they could plunge into Larkin’s chest. Carys hadn’t thought about destroying the arrows. The wind had chosen that path. She had just wanted to keep Larkin safe.
The seeress had said the wind was not hers to command. But it could listen. If she stayed calm and trusted it to do what must be done.
“Carys?” Errik asked. “Are you okay?”
She looked around the barn as the wind whispered expectantly. The door to the building was open a crack. It was creaking slightly, she thought, which would make it hard to sleep because every movement of the unlatched door would make her think an attack was coming. She pictured it latched.
The horses nickered. There was a gust, and the door swung fully closed.
“It worked!” The door closing wasn’t a big thing, but it was a step toward using her power safely. She would need that power if she was going to keep the thousands of Bastian soldiers from taking the Palace of Winds. “Thank you for helping me,” she said, turning back to Errik.
He had stood by her from the first—saving her mother and supporting her during the Trials when almost everyone else had cheered for Andreus. And even when she had only seen the worst in him, he had seen the best in her—not a royal twin or a vessel of the wind or a potential ruler like Garret had. Errik saw her.
She stepped toward him and he met her halfway. His mouth slanted over hers and she pressed herself tight against him to feel the beating of his heart. Everything inside her shimmered, and when she stepped back and looked into his face, she felt something deep take root. Not trust just in Errik, but in herself. She still did not know exactly how she was going to stop the Bastian army or eliminate Elder Jacobs and all who might be working with him inside the Palace of Winds, but she knew she would. With the help of Errik and Larkin, she would find a way. She just had to make sure they never saw her coming, until it was too late to defend against her.
It was time to return to the living and claim the crown that was hers. She must scale the walls that she hated and face her twin, who wanted her dead. She would uncover the traitors who were lurking in the shadows determined to destroy her family and take her throne.
She would return to their game—and this time she would be the one to end it once and for all.
14
Madame Jillian watched with narrow eyes as Andreus walked to the full-length silver mirror on the far wall. His leg still ached, but the weakness from the attack had finally dissipated.
Two days had passed since Max had found him unconscious on the floor and had run for Madame Jillian’s help. When Andreus woke, he was certain the secret of his curse had finally been unmasked. But the palace healer had blamed the episode on the inflammation of his still-healing Xhelozi wounds, instead.
Council members visited with assurances that they were handling the business of the kingdom and that due to the unrest over news of Andreus’s illness, the Council instructed the Masters to keep the orb shining. To do otherwise would cause further panic and possibly rebellion in an already-anxious city.
Andreus let them believe he was convinced by their argument as he plotted to unmask the traitor in his midst. In secret, he had already taken the first step toward that goal in the swirled snow atop the tallest tower just after the sun had risen. Soon it would be time to let the rest of his plan unfold.
Andreus bent his leg to test the flexibility of the new brace Madame Jillian had constructed for him.
“The infection seems to have passed quickly, Your Majesty,” Madame Jillian said from behind.
“Thanks to you.” He smiled into the mirror and in the reflection saw Madame Jillian let out a pleased chuckle. “I am lucky you are so skilled. Without you, Max wouldn’t be tormenting the palace cooks, I might not be walking, and my mother would certainly not be recovering as well as she is. You are to be commended for all your work.” He turned. “Have you seen my mother today?”
Madame Jillian sighed. “I have not been able to tend to her as much in recent days as I would like. I bring the remedies to aid her mind and body, but she prefers her chamberlain’s company over my own. After losing so much, I am not surprised she is only comfortable now in the presence of someone she has known since before coming to Garden City.”
He frowned. “My mother always said Oben was assigned to be her chamberlain when she arrived here at the Palace of Winds. I assumed my father or one of my grandfather’s heads of household placed him in her service.”
Madame Jillian shook her head. “I was an apprentice then and remember the day the Queen walked up the white steps of the plateau on your father’s arm. She wasn’t Queen then, but she held her
head high as any queen I’ve ever seen. And she was so beautiful most people didn’t look at anything else. But I saw Oben at the back of the guard. I used to enjoy watching the men on the practice fields and knew he had never been to Garden City before.”
Her cheeks flushed with color, and for a minute Andreus could see her as a girl cheering on the guardsmen, hoping to gain their attention. “That doesn’t mean my mother and Oben knew each other before they traveled to Garden City.” Oben had once told Andreus that he had trained in a minor lord’s household before using his sword for the High Lord of Derio and coming to the attention of the King.
“Perhaps I am mistaken, Your Majesty,” the healer admitted. “It is just a feeling I get of a shared history. That, and he rarely if ever leaves her side. All know that Chamberlain Oben is fiercely devoted to the Queen. None would ever try to do her harm knowing they would have to go through him.”
Of that Andreus was certain. The chamberlain’s bulky robes did little to hide his strength. He had always seemed stronger to Andreus than almost anyone in the palace, except maybe Andreus’s father.
The healer dropped into a curtsy, then eyed him sharply. “Take care to rest that leg as much as possible, Your Majesty. I know it is pointless to tell you not to walk on it at all.”
When the door finally shut behind her, Andreus stepped into the bedroom doorway and called, “You can come out now, Max.”
The wardrobe door swung open, and Max came bounding into the room. “I don’t see why I had to hide from Madame Jillian.”
“If Madame Jillian had seen you, she would have asked questions about the crumbs on your clothes and scolded you for eating too many sweets.” It was an easier answer than the truth. Andreus needed both he and the boy to draw as little scrutiny as possible before he had a chance to unmask the traitor—something he would need Max to help with.
Max swiped at his mouth as Andreus warned, “There are things happening here in the Palace of Winds right now. Dangerous things.”
Max’s expression turned solemn. His eyes looked so much older than his eight years as he nodded. “I know, Your Majesty.”