“Now that you have returned, Your Majesty,” Graylem said, looking down at the ground, “I will surrender myself to North Tower and await whatever punishment you decree.”
“Do you believe I should imprison you?”
Graylem took a deep breath then looked up. “I confessed to following first Princess Carys and now the King of Eden. No matter my reasons, I was, in essence, acting as if I was an intelligencer. You know what I must have seen and you would never allow me to return to my guard duties with that knowledge.”
Andreus went still. “What do you think you know?”
“You have the same breathing illness as the boy you saved, or something like it. Your sister was helping you keep it secret so no one could exploit that weakness.”
Fear and anger churned. The whisper of his sword coming free echoed in the room. “Treason is punishable by death.” And death would end this knowledge of his secret. If others knew, he would deal with them as time passed.
Graylem swallowed hard. Fear lit his eyes. Andreus gripped his sword and waited for the guard to beg for his life or sink to his knees. Instead, he said, “I am prepared for death, but the boy should not see and think he is to blame.”
Andreus glanced at Max and hated that Graylem had to remind him of the boy’s presence. “You saved Max even though you knew doing so could mean that I would order your death?”
Graylem straightened his shoulders. “I failed my sister . . . I knew in my heart she was in trouble, and yet I didn’t act until it was too late. I was not as strong as Princess Carys was. But after her death I joined the guard and in doing so vowed that I would not fail another who needed my protection again.”
It was the crack in the guard’s voice when he said the word sister that compelled Andreus to lower his sword. It was the sound of the love Andreus once had for his twin. He knew the kind of loyalty that love evoked. “Did you speak to anyone of what you learned from following me or my sister?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Graylem said emphatically. “When I am dead, your secret will die with me.”
Andreus looked at Max’s sleeping figure again. With Imogen gone, there was none save the boy Andreus could trust inside the palace. He needed other allies.
“I have use of you so let’s hope you don’t keel over dead any time soon.” Sheathing his sword, Andreus ignored Graylem’s gaping surprise and said, “I have something I must see to. I am not sure how long I will be gone.” He removed his cloak and dropped it on the chair next to his desk. “Guard the boy until I return. We will speak of your new role as my personal intelligencer then.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Graylem bowed as Andreus turned and headed back out the door to the stairs that led to the floor below.
It was time to pay a visit to his mother.
Andreus stood outside the massive double doors of what was once his parents’ solar, although his father had rarely, if ever, spent time in these rooms.
Ever since Andreus could remember, this area of the palace had been his mother’s sanctuary. It was where the women of the court came to curry favor and where his mother ruled over Carys and him with an iron fist—always reminding him of the curse that he was born with and schooling Carys on her obligation to help keep his secret safe. Perhaps it wasn’t any wonder then that he and his twin spent a great deal of their lives avoiding these rooms, or that he hadn’t come to visit his mother since before the crown of light was placed on his head.
He had told himself that he was too busy.
That the demands of ruling required focus.
But he knew the truth. He couldn’t take the sight of his mother in her current state.
Before, she had been more than formidable. Now, since the King’s and prince’s deaths, she was no longer the strong woman who had manipulated the court and the Elders. The deaths of his father and brother had broken something, leaving her uncertain and haunted—the opposite of the woman he had known all his life. Seeing her now would be like looking into a mirror at the cracks in his own reflection.
Andreus grasped the ornate handle to his mother’s chamber. The last time he came to these rooms, Carys was alive. Inside, he had made a choice that he knew could kill his own twin, and, in essence, had.
Pushing open the doors, Andreus stepped from the cool, brightly lit hall, into the stifling warmth of his mother’s sanctum. Only the fire blazing in the large, stone fireplace and several candles glowing on a small table set for tea illuminated the large space. The yellow rug looked almost tan in the dim light. The blue-velvet, high-backed chairs that his mother preferred to have filled with ladies of the court looked almost black.
Despite his mother’s lack of fondness for the court, she had until recently always spent her days surrounded by its members. She was skilled at manipulation. She understood the rules. His father had relied on his Queen to tell him of schemes that would upset his power. Dozens of lords and ladies had ended up in the North Tower after his mother whispered what she’d learned in his father’s ear.
“You never know what someone will say or do that will give you the advantage you didn’t know you required,” the Queen had instructed him and Carys. Perhaps if he had remained in her rooms more, he might be better equipped to deal with the Council of Elders now.
“Your Majesty.” The Queen’s longtime chamberlain, Oben, stepped out of the shadows near the entrance to his mother’s bedchamber. His deep purple robes and dark hair made his mother’s faithful attendant almost blend into the shadows. Andreus straightened his shoulders to stretch to his full height, as he found he often did around the inscrutable man whose expression was as unreadable as ever.
“I did not expect to see you,” Oben continued. “Chief Elder Cestrum and Elder Jacobs did not mention that you were planning to visit when they stopped by on your command to check on the Queen’s condition.”
“The Elders were here.” Andreus shouldn’t have been surprised. “When?”
“Elder Jacobs left not long ago. The Chief Elder was here about an hour before that.”
“What did they wish to discuss with the Queen?”
“All the Elders have found reason to stop by at least once a day since the King’s and Prince Micah’s death. They claim to be concerned about the Queen’s health.”
“And you don’t believe them.”
Elder Jacobs must have come here immediately after his discussion with Andreus. Was he looking to enlist the Queen in his efforts to see Andreus wed? As for the Chief Elder, Andreus could only wonder at his motives.
“My duty is to see to the safety and health of Queen Betrice. It is not for me to dispute the Council or their intentions, Your Majesty,” Oben said.
“I hear you were on the battlements earlier. Did you see any of the Council members then?”
Oben shook his head. “I fear whoever gave you that information was mistaken. I was not on the battlements tonight.”
“Are you certain?” Oben was taller than anyone in the Palace of Winds. Max had been hiding, but it seemed unlikely he would have mistaken Oben for anyone else.
Oben gave him a grim smile. “I believe I would remember going out into the cold, Your Majesty.”
Andreus wanted to press the issue, but the stonelike expression of the chamberlain made him doubt there would be any point. Oben had never said more than necessary, even under the best of circumstances. Andreus had known him his entire life, but knew little about him save his devotion to the Queen. “I thought perhaps she might have had you meet with members of the Council if she could not. Mother has never liked to be away from court business for long if she could help it.”
“Any questions you have about the Queen and the Council of Elders will have to be taken up with her.”
Andreus frowned. “The last time I saw her she was . . . not herself.”
Oben nodded. “Madame Jillian and her herbs have helped the Queen a great deal. There are times she seems restored.”
“And the other times?”
“
Perhaps, Your Majesty, that is another question you should answer for yourself.” Oben walked to the bedroom door and pushed it open. “Your mother is awake. She has been hoping her only surviving child would come to visit.”
Andreus’s chest tightened. He stared at the dimly lit doorway wondering what he would find on the other side. Would it be the mother who insisted he learn how to charm the court or the Queen who laughed as she looked upon Carys’s bloodied, disfigured face?
Whichever he found, he would face it. He would do whatever was necessary to learn why she gave the Masters such a dangerous command.
The ornate bed in the center of the room was empty. He turned and spotted his mother, dressed in a flowing white gown. She was standing in front of a full-length mirror brushing her long, ebony hair with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Mother.”
Instead of answering, she began to hum.
“Mother, we need to talk. Eden is in danger.”
Andreus looked back at Oben, but the older man standing in the doorway looked unconcerned by the Queen’s actions. Either she was fine and toying with Andreus or this was what Oben considered an improvement from her previous state.
“Mother, we need to talk.”
With deliberate movements, his mother put the silver brush on the small dressing table in front of her before turning to face him. Her dark eyes met his and she frowned. “The last time you and I spoke of the danger facing this kingdom, you smiled and brought me a flower.”
“Much has happened since that day.” Andreus chose his words carefully. He studied his mother for signs that she had returned to herself—had reemerged from her grief as the cunning woman who once calmly instructed him to seduce his own brother’s betrothed.
When she did not respond, he asked, “Mother, what did you say to the Masters about the wind power shortage and why? They claim you talked to them before Father and Micah were brought back to us.”
She smiled. “Queens speak with a great number of people. That is my job. To talk and to listen. Those who listen hold great power. Because it is not what we want to hear that aids us, but paying attention to that which we would rather not acknowledge. You have never liked to listen, my son.”
“I’m listening now.”
“Are you?” His mother cocked her head to the side and studied him. “Then what is it that you hear?”
“It sounds as if you have recovered from your ailment.”
“Ailment.” She shook her head and laughed. “Such an interesting word to choose for the shattering of a lifetime’s work. For discovering that rather than claiming victory, you have been outplayed by fate.”
“Mother,” he snapped. She had to stay focused if he was going to get answers. “I have just come from the Masters of Light. They said they told you there was a problem with the winds. They warned you that we would not have enough power to keep the lights shining throughout the winter, and you told them not to do anything about it.”
“I warned you Imogen was not skilled as a seer. You did not wish to listen.”
“This isn’t about Imogen, Mother.”
“Of course it is.” His mother’s eyes narrowed. “I told you she was not capable. She could not become Queen. Not without destroying Garden City and the Palace of Winds. I saw her for what she was. I warned Micah. I warned you. Neither of you understood how to listen and now—”
“Imogen is dead, Mother!” His heart slammed hard in his tightening chest.
“Not soon enough.” She laughed. Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, the Masters told me about the wind power, and I insisted they allow the power to be used and the lights to burn. When the power ran out, you would all finally see what I knew from the first moment Imogen came to the Palace of Winds. She was a fraud determined to destroy us.”
Andreus gaped at his mother. She looked sane, yet— “You wanted the lights on the walls to fail?”
“Yes.” His mother smiled across the room—this time with a terrible kind of delight—and looked beyond him toward the doorway to where Oben was standing in the threshold. Watching her. “Imogen’s pretty face and cunning words would not have helped her then. Your brother would see past her façade—the beautiful face she used to bend him to her will.”
No. Imogen hadn’t seduced Micah. She had confessed to Andreus that she had felt she had no choice but to acquiesce to the Crown Prince’s wishes. The only one she had loved had been Andreus. It was only with him that her passion had flared. His mother continued before he could defend the woman he had loved and lost.
“I told Micah to use her body as he wanted, but not to trust her.” She let out a small sigh. “What we were doing was too important. Your brother swore he wouldn’t give her his faith, but I could see him faltering. He began to think he might actually be in love with her. Foolish. He was foolish! I had no other choice but to force Micah see her for the danger that she was.”
“So you put Garden City and everyone in the Palace of Winds at risk? Mother,” Andreus snapped, “don’t you see what you’ve done? Most of our guards are fighting the war with Adderton and now the cold season is here. The Xhelozi are awake and in greater numbers than ever before. As soon as the lights falter, they will attack. If I don’t find a way to fix your mistake, people will die.”
The candlelight cast a halo behind his mother as she shrugged. “They were always going to die. I finally understand that now.”
Andreus stared at his mother, his mouth agape. “Understand what? That you are willing to consign your subjects to violent deaths?”
“My dream.” She walked to the small table next to the head of the bed, picked up a delicate teacup and lifted it in a mock toast. She took a drink and sighed. “The tea keeps the dream away. It’s the only thing that does. My first memories are of the faces in my dream. Blood streamed from their mouths as their eyes went blank with death. Dozens of them. It was a vision.”
“A vision.” Andreus shook his head. “Mother, you are not a seer.”
“As much as I wished to stay with them in the Village of Night, you are right. I was never one of them. I was born with a single dream that visited me when I slept. No more. No less. But over the years I have recognized many of the faces from that dream. They’ve walked the streets of Garden City and strolled the halls in this palace. Even as I watched them laugh or struggle to gain power I understood they were meant to die, but I was certain I knew what would cause their deaths and that I alone could change it.”
“You . . . you aren’t well, Mother.” Andreus took a step backward, away from the terrifying certainty in his mother’s eyes and the insanity that still lurked behind them. None of this made any sense. His leg throbbed and his chest tightened. There were no other answers to be had here.
“And once again you aren’t listening. Imogen . . .”
“This isn’t about Imogen,” he yelled. Blood roared in his ears.
His mother threw the teacup across the room. It shattered like a thunderclap against the wall. “She was but one snake in a garden!” She paused, her breathing heavy. “How many more are there? And who is playing the tune that makes them slither? She had to be working with someone. She wasn’t that clever on her own.”
Andreus shook his head. “No. She was—”
“I saw it in her eyes the first minute she stepped into the Hall of Virtues. I saw the way she studied your brother as if searching for the right key to slide into a lock. It was the same way I thought of Ulron even before we met—as a path to gain what I wanted most—power. Imogen wanted that power. She schemed to convince your brother that she was worthy of his trust. Micah must have been foolish enough to believe her and then she killed him.”
“Imogen was nowhere near Micah when he died. Micah and Father died in an ambush to the south of Garden City.”
“How stupid men become when a woman presses her body against theirs. Did she profess love to you as well? Do you think she meant it, my son? Just because a person does not wield the sword doesn’t mean she didn’
t strike the death blow. You of all people should understand that.” His mother slowly walked toward him. “What blood did you spill to gain the crown you wear?”
The white, gauzy dress fluttered as she reached up and stroked his face. Then her hand whipped back and cracked against his cheek, sending him staggering back, his knee buckling as pain swelled in his wounded leg.
“Imogen learned of my plan. She used it against me—and there is no stopping what she started. She could not have been working alone, and now they will be coming for you. They will want what you gained.” Her mouth curled. “You are King now. If not for that all my years of planning would have been lost. If Carys had won . . .” She shook her head and stepped forward with her hand outstretched. “You will have to be wary. Stop them if you can. I took the steps and put the pieces in place so that Eden would finally walk in the virtues. So that I could be free.”
“What steps? What pieces?” Andreus moved toward his mother and grabbed her hand as she raised it again. His face still stung as he squeezed her wrist and demanded, “Free from what, Mother?”
His mother went still and looked him dead in the eyes. “Free of the vision, and the last person with control over my life. From a man who insisted that I remember that I served him and who would have put you to death had he discovered your curse. The only way to stop the vision was to remove him. Micah picked men he thought he could trust. It was all arranged. Micah understood that Ulron had to die so we all could survive.”
Andreus released his mother’s wrist.
Ulron.
The King.
His father.
His heart stilled and his breath caught in his throat. It was as if he had fallen out of the stable hayloft and onto the ground below and his lungs had forgotten how to breathe.
“You killed my father?” he whispered.