Dividing Eden

by Joelle Charbonneau

  Tomorrow. That gave them almost no time to find a way out of this insanity. “Do you think that’s wise?” Carys asked, ignoring the dread blooming deep in her stomach. “After all, the tournament was planned to celebrate the coronation of the Queen. To use it for something else could be considered mocking the fates.”

  “The tournament will still celebrate the upcoming coronation, and the gathering of the court and commoners alike will give the Council an opportunity to explain the purpose of the contest between you and Prince Andreus.” Elder Cestrum glanced back at the Council members, who all nodded their agreement.

  All but Elder Ulrich, who stood out of Elder Cestrum’s line of sight and was watching Carys with his one good eye.

  Elder Cestrum turned back to Carys and Andreus. “The tournament will demonstrate to everyone that the Council of Elders, Eden’s seer, and King Ulron’s surviving children have agreed on this path to determining the new monarch. After so much tragedy, the people will not only be glad to have contest champions to cheer for during the tournament, but they’ll be inspired to learn their prince and princess are willing to go to great lengths to prove their worthiness to wear the crown.”

  Great lengths. An outsider might not hear the threat in those two words, but Carys did. Especially since the Council had just made it clear their preference was to put Lord Garret on the throne.

  Or most of them did. What Elder Ulrich wanted was unclear. He had warned her and Andreus about tonight’s Council meeting here in the Hall of Virtues. Did he want to help them block Elder Cestrum’s plot to put Garret on the throne—or had he intended to lead her and Andreus to the slaughter?

  Carys stared at him, hoping to see some sort of sign as to his motive, but his expression was inscrutable.

  Carys wondered. Ulrich might not be a friend, but maybe . . . just maybe he might not be a foe.

  “You have a long night ahead of you then, my lords,” Carys said. “And apparently my brother and I will have a long day tomorrow. So unless anyone has another book to read from, I bid you good night. Andreus, are you coming?” She gathered her skirts and paused to see if he’d heard the message she’d spoken just for him.

  “You go ahead,” he said with a nod of understanding. “I would like to examine this Book of Knowledge to make sure there aren’t any other surprises. Get some rest, Carys,” he said with his attention back on the Council. “It sounds like you’re going to need it.”

  Rest, she thought as she spun and walked out of the chamber, was something neither of them could afford. Not if they were going to avoid being caught in the trap the Council of Elders were setting.

  Carys headed back through the brightly lit but mostly empty hallways of the castle to her rooms and noticed there were more guards posted than usual. Possibly because they thought they’d be enforcing the rule of a new king tonight. That alone told Carys that Captain Monteros couldn’t be counted on to help her and Andreus. His loyalty clearly belonged to the Council of Elders. Perhaps she could find a way to buy his support back, but after tonight it was clear she and Andreus would never be able to truly count on him. The only people she and her brother could depend on to keep them safe were themselves.

  Eyeing the guards stationed in the next hallway, Carys slipped down one of the narrow servants’ corridors her brother favored, where wind-powered lights never glowed and the guard never bothered to stand. After all, why protect servants who couldn’t offer rewards when there were lords and ladies with jewels and gold just waiting to be thankful?

  Quickly, Carys made her way down torch-lined halls and up narrow, uneven steps to the doorway that opened nearest to her rooms. She felt a jolt of surprise followed by worry when she spotted Larkin hovering outside her door. Her friend had a pile of fabric draped over one arm and Goodman Marcus’s leather tailor satchel hanging from her shoulder.

  The minute Larkin spotted her, Carys’s friend burst into tears.

  “Quiet,” Carys hissed, looking past Larkin and hoping the guards who were typically stationed just beyond the doorway didn’t hear.

  Too late.

  She spotted the face of the same guard who had escorted her to the North Tower peer down the hall as she hurried Larkin inside her chamber. Another potential problem.

  Throwing the bolt on the door, she ordered, “Don’t cry. I can’t afford to grieve.” Larkin’s sympathy would shatter her. Sadness would pull her under and make her never want to surface. Even now the red bottle called to her, compelling her toward oblivion. She had to be careful to only take enough to keep away the symptoms of withdrawal. The nervous energy and anxiety it caused in small doses was far better than giving in to the nothingness that she desperately wanted. Instead, she’d focus on anger. It felt stronger. Hotter. Sharper. Anger would help her keep the siren’s pull of the drug at bay.

  Larkin sniffled. Her face tensed and turned several shades of red, but after a minute or two the tears stopped. Her friend took a deep breath and in a still-shaky voice said, “I know I could have waited to bring the dresses tomorrow, but I was in the streets when you came back from the funeral procession. I heard the Queen and saw her face . . . ” Tears brimmed over and streaked down Larkin’s cheeks and she handed the dresses to Juliette, who had appeared at her side. When she turned back the tears were gone. “The city is swirling with rumors, none of which I can believe are true. But after I heard them, I had to make sure you were okay.”

  “You can see I’m fine. Andreus is, too, but you shouldn’t be here.”

  “I want to help,” Larkin said fiercely. “The rumors say the Bastians gave your mother a drug that drove her mad and that they have a force marching on the city to seize the throne from you and your brother. Others are saying the Queen is only pretending to be mad in order to make the Council of Elders think they can control the throne and that she’s planning on poisoning them all in their beds.”

  Not the worst idea Carys had heard.

  “The Queen is being tended to by her chamberlain and the castle’s healers.” At least, that’s what Carys assumed was happening. While she was worried about her mother, she knew Andreus, the Trials, and the threats made by the Council of Elders had to come first. “Her illness has made it impossible for her to rule. Since Andreus and I are twins, there is to be a competition of sorts to decide who will be the next to take the throne.”

  “What kind of competition?”

  “That’s up to the Council,” Carys explained. “And I don’t want you involved with any of this. Go back to your father and tell him that you want to leave the city to travel to your new home tonight.”

  “Father will never agree—”

  Carys grabbed her friend’s shoulders. “Then you will make him. Tell him I ordered you to leave. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if there is a struggle for the throne or if the rumors about the Bastians taking advantage of my father and Micah’s deaths are true, there will be more trouble coming to Garden City. I will rest easier knowing that you are safe away from it all and that soon you’ll be wed and happy.”

  It hurt to say the words, but Larkin wouldn’t be safe if she stayed.

  “You are my best friend. You are part of my heart—the best part. Promise me,” Carys demanded. “Promise you’ll return home, pack up, and leave as soon as possible. Tell your father to stay with you until you get word from me that it is safe to return.”

  Larkin looked down and sighed. “I promise, Your Highness.” When she tilted her face up, Larkin’s tears flowed once again. They streamed down her face as she struggled to find composure and lost.

  Heat pricked the back of Carys’s eyes as she yanked her friend into a tight hug. When she pulled back, she steered Larkin toward the door and opened it before she herself started to cry. She was going to lose Larkin to marriage anyway, but losing her now after so much . . . It hurt so much worse. “May the winds guide you, my friend,” she said, taking Larkin’s hand. “I want you to find happiness.” For both of us.

  She willed
herself to let go of Larkin, then shut the door. The click of the latch made her heart ache, and Carys slid her hand into the pocket of her cloak and closed it around the red bottle.

  Gods, she wanted a sip. But it was too soon. There was too much at stake to lose control. She had to change, get her things ready, and meet her brother without anyone seeing.

  She considered dismissing her maid. Juliette had proved trustworthy over the last few years, but that was before information on Carys’s actions had become such a highly valuable commodity. Still, Carys wasn’t sure she had a choice.

  “Help me out of these clothes. Then assist me into the rust dress that was just delivered,” she said, knowing Juliette would expect Carys to get ready for bed instead of for another outing. If the maid had any questions about the instructions, she held her tongue as she helped Carys into the gown and did up the laces tight enough to keep the dress in place but not so tight that they irritated her still-healing wounds.

  Reaching into the cloak pocket, she slid the red bottle out, then said, “Now, take these clothes to the smoke pits and burn them.”

  “Excuse me, Your Highness?” Juliette said, folding the funeral dress over her arm.

  “Today was miserable,” Carys said, walking to a small table where tea, fruit, and cheese were waiting for her. She placed the bottle on the table. “I would prefer not to keep any reminders.”

  When Juliette had gathered the discarded garments and hurried toward the door, Carys added, “Juliette, I wouldn’t blame you if you had trouble juggling those and dropped them near the guards at the end of the hall. The cloak in particular is thick and bulky if not carried carefully.”

  Juliette met Carys’s eyes and nodded. “I did notice that it’s not particularly easy to carry, Your Highness. I will take care to make sure it doesn’t cause too many problems when I take it down to the smoke pits. I’ll be back later to see if there are any other items from today you wish me to dispose of.”

  Carys smiled at her maid’s acknowledgment of the task Carys wished her to carry out. “I appreciate your loyalty, Juliette. If ever you feel conflicted about that dedication, I hope you’ll let me know so I can assuage your concerns.”

  “There will never be a conflict, Your Highness. I shall return.” With that Juliette slipped out the door and closed it behind her.

  Carys moved to the door and waited several long seconds before turning the handle and opening the door a crack so she could listen to the sound of Juliette’s footsteps as the maid hurried down the hall. Juliette giggled at something one of the guards said. Then she let out a small shout. A few moments later, Carys pushed open the door. She could hear the guards, but they weren’t in sight as Carys slipped out of her rooms and hurried to meet her brother at the place they had always gone to when they needed to be alone.

  Years ago, Andreus had discovered a door behind a large tapestry in the now unused nursery at the very end of the hall next to Micah’s rooms. The wall hanging was two hundred years old, reached from the ceiling to the floor, and covered three-quarters of the wall. Iron masonry nails fixed the corners of the woven scene of the mountains beyond the castle. All around the mountains were swirling clouds and trees bending beneath the force of the wind. In the center of the biggest gust of wind was a broken crown. From what she could tell, no one knew how long the tapestry had been hanging in the room, or why an artisan created it, but it had been long enough that no one seemed to remember the door it concealed. She wouldn’t have known it was there had Andreus not discovered the hidden entrance while trying to hide behind the tapestry when he was little. Whoever had hidden the entrance had done so long before she was born—long before her father was King.

  Carys was relieved to see no guards were stationed in the nursery hallway. Captain Monteros must have decided there was no reason to use his men in an area where no one currently lived. Good. That meant there were no eyes to see her as she hurried into the nursery, shifted the heavy wall hanging, and slipped behind it into the darkness beyond.

  An oil lamp and flint to light it were waiting on a small table Andreus had found. Striking one of her stilettos against the flint, Carys lit the lamp, lifted it to the hook in the middle of the small room, and studied the space as she waited for her brother to arrive.

  How long had it been since they had come here? The last time she had been here was two years ago when Andreus insisted she try to break herself of the Tears of Midnight that had wrapped her in their seductive grip. He’d taken her into the tunnels below the castle and there she’d fought and screamed and sweated and clawed and shook so hard that Andreus was scared she’d die.

  It was fear for her that pushed Andreus into giving her just the small sip that Carys begged for. Just enough to make the worst of the shaking stop and keep her stomach from cramping in a way that made her wish someone would kill her. She’d promised Andreus that she’d take a little less every day until she no longer needed the drug. She’d gotten close so many times to breaking free of the drug’s grasp, but there was always a reason to give it another day. A ball to attend. Micah pushing Andreus to take a turn on the guard’s practice field. Her mother reminding Carys that it was her responsibility to protect her brother’s secret no matter the cost.

  Carys walked to the center of the room, pulled up the rug, and stared down at the trapdoor beneath, wishing all the usable exits to the tunnels hadn’t been sealed. As children she and Andreus had used the tunnels to practice his guard drills with the sword and the bow and her with the knife. He hated how she could hit the targets dead center, one after another, while he lost his breath. Day by day, though, week by week, he got stronger and they had to look for longer corridors to set up their targets. By the time they were ten, Carys knew the tunnels below the castle as well as she knew the hallways above.

  All but one of the uneven, dirt-packed corridors that ran under the castle ended at piles of boulders and rubble that stood from the floor to the ceiling. The one that didn’t led to a ledge on the southern side of the plateau. From there it was an almost sheer drop to the ground. Andreus often wondered if it was the previous ruling family who had sealed the tunnels to ward off the forces wishing to take their crown and if that one lone exit was the path the surviving Bastians took when they escaped the night the rest were slaughtered. But unless they knew how to fly, Carys couldn’t see how they got to the ground. There must be another unseen way out of the castle. Too bad Carys had no idea where that was because very soon they might need it.

  Carys began to pace as she waited for Andreus. Could he have said something to the Council of Elders that made them detain him? Could he have had another attack without a chance to take the remedy?

  Worry had her heading for the door as the knob turned and Andreus strode in. The tapestry settled as he closed the door behind him and then several seconds passed as they both waited—listening as they always did for any sound that indicated someone had followed.

  All was silent. Andreus opened his arms and Carys rushed into them. “I was afraid something had happened to you.”

  “I had to take the long way to get here. The guards and the Council of Elders’ pages are wandering the halls more than usual.”

  Her brother hugged her gently, careful of her wounds, and she pressed her ear to his chest to listen to his heart. It beat fast but steady. At least that was something to be grateful for.

  “Carys,” he said, pulling back to look at her. “What are we going to do? I can’t take part in the Trials. If I do—”

  “I know,” she said. “And if we refuse, Garret will be named King. Our family will be seen as a threat to his rule.”

  “We’ll end up like the Bastians.”

  “The only answer is for us to leave. We have to get Mother and get out of Garden City before first light.”

  “Go? To where?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere no one is looking to remove our heads? If we ride to the west eventually we’ll reach the Fire Sea. We can get a boat and sail to Ca
libas.”

  “We’ll be lucky to get out of the castle without anyone seeing the two of us. There’s no way we’ll be able to move Mother without detection. And even if we could, what then? Outride the guard when they discover we’ve gone? If we drug Mother unconscious to keep her quiet, she’ll be dead weight. If not, she’ll be trying to ride toward the mountains and the Xhelozi that have already woken for the cold season.”

  “Does it matter?” she asked. “We’ll be alive.”

  “You will. What about me? Wherever we go, there won’t be Madame Jillian.”

  Gods. She hadn’t thought about Madame Jillian and the remedy she created at the Queen’s directive. The Queen claimed Oben suffered from chest pains, shortness of breath, and prickly weakness in his limbs. She ordered the healer to create the remedy that Andreus had used for years. Andreus always had enough to see him through several weeks, but what then? Who knew if they could find another healer or one nearly as skilled?

  “We can’t stay, Dreus. Not without competing in the Trials.”

  “No. There has to be a way,” Andreus said, pacing the room. “This is our home. Father would have wanted one or both of us to lead Eden—the way he did.”

  “The way he did?” A bitter laugh ripped out of her. “Father didn’t rule. He did what he wanted and didn’t care if innocent people were caught in the middle. He didn’t bother to learn about the laws because he was the law. But now he’s gone and we’re stuck with laws he never troubled himself to learn about. Now that Lady Imogen has revealed them . . .”

  “This isn’t Imogen’s fault,” Andreus snapped. “If it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The Council of Elders would have made Garret King and who knows where we’d be. She put herself on the line and saved me.”

  “Us,” Carys said, looking hard at her brother. “She saved us.” She and Andreus were a team. The fact that he hadn’t automatically thought of both of them shifted the only foundation she had. Especially after he chose Imogen over Carys two nights ago.