“That’s what I meant,” Andreus said.
Carys wished that were true and knew she could not push her doubts about the seer or her brother would stop listening. Carefully, she said, “I’m grateful Imogen intervened, but the truth is we don’t know what her motives are or why she’s given the Council leave to create these trials. There are only so many options in front of us.”
“And most of them aren’t options.” Andreus raked a hand through his dark hair and stalked to the corner as Carys thought through their choices.
“Then there’s only one thing we can do,” Carys said. They couldn’t escape the castle with their mother and there was no way the Council of Elders would allow them to live if Garret were crowned. “We’re going to cheat.”
10
“Cheat?” Andreus threw up his hands and stalked across the room. “How in the world do you intend to cheat the Council?”
“They decide the Trials we have to face, but we decide the winner.”
Andreus turned. “What?”
Carys smiled. “We cheat. According to the law, the Council of Elders has to create the Trials. We have to participate in them. The winner gets the throne. But nowhere in there does it say we actually have to compete for real. If we decide who the winner is before the Trials start, we can take control of everything. That will limit the stress on you and the time the Trials take since we can make sure one of us wins most everything.”
“Most?”
“No one will believe the Trials are real if only one of us wins every contest,” Carys said with a burst of energy. The more she spoke the faster the words tripped over each other. “We’ll make the contest look real so the Council cannot protest the results.”
“But we’ll still have to compete in public,” he said. “You know what will happen if I have an attack.”
Everyone would see that he was cursed and both he and his sister would pay the price.
“Dreus . . .”
“You should win the Trials,” he said, remembering all the times he said he didn’t want to rule. That he was glad not to be the Crown Prince. “Honestly, Carys. It should be you. You’ve studied the guards more than I have.” She’d had to in order to help him. “You’re better at anticipating the intrigue of the Council of Elders and the High Lords.” Even if it meant stepping in front of whatever trouble was coming to keep him safe.
How many beatings had she taken in order to keep his curse hidden? She’d suffered for him. She should be rewarded. And he would spend his life hiding behind his sister.
His sister who he had seen drink from the familiar red bottle and whose hand was trembling on his arm.
His sister laid that shaking hand on his face so he couldn’t look away.
“Andreus, you care about the people in the city. And they love you for it. They see your good works. Look at what you did for Max. He’s alive because of you.” A fierce light shined from Carys’s eyes as she insisted, “None of that sounds like a person who’s been cursed. We both have flaws. We both have strengths.”
Two halves of the same whole. That’s what their nurse used to say.
“Neither of us will be able to rule without help from people we trust.”
For the first time, he allowed himself to think about what it would be like to sit on the throne. To have people notice what he did. To make changes without having to beg anyone to listen to his ideas. He could help more kids like Max—and help everyone understand that being sick didn’t mean being cursed.
“Andreus, what do you want?”
“I don’t know.” He pushed past her and wished they weren’t in such an enclosed space. It felt bigger when they were little. Now the walls were too close together for him to think. His heart was pounding hard and he couldn’t tell if it was excitement, nerves, or the curse. “I’m scared to even consider wanting the crown.”
But he was considering it. Gods. If he was being honest, he’d always wanted it. He’d just pretended that he didn’t. Why wage a war for something that could never be won?
Now it could. The throne could be within his grasp and he wasn’t sure if he should take it.
In the shadows, he asked the question that he’d never had the courage to voice before. “Carys. What if I am . . . cursed?” Always he’d denied the seers’ magical powers. The wind blew with or without them. The orb glowed bright because of the Masters of Light. But Imogen believed. She believed with her whole heart that she could call the winds. He’d wanted the seers to be powerless. If he believed otherwise . . . “What if by taking the throne I destroy the kingdom and everyone in it?”
Fabric rustled and he felt his sister’s hand on his back. “Have you ever considered that your fear of having your secret exposed could be the real curse? People make terrible choices out of fear of losing what they hold dear. Kings wage war and slaughter their subjects to keep their power. The Council of Elders would send us to the North Tower and see our heads displayed at the entrance of the castle steps in order to keep their authority. And you—you might turn away from ruling and making choices that might help the kingdom thrive. That fear could be what shatters the orb.”
“Or it could cause an attack in the Hall of Virtues, the kingdom could be told of the old seer’s prediction, and a war could be waged to remove me from power.”
“It could,” she agreed, and Andreus stalked away.
“So that decides it, then,” he said with the taste of disappointment and frustration bitter on his tongue. Carys was being honest. He couldn’t fault her for that.
But he did.
“Dreus, even if we knew for sure that the seers’ predictions were real, it’s impossible to know what the words mean. Remember when our tutor made us study King Perin. His seer told him water would flow across Eden and wash away that which didn’t adhere to the seven virtues. He ordered all the men who worked in the fields to stop tending crops and to build ships so everyone in the castle would be able to find safety from the flood the seer predicted.
“Only it wasn’t a flood.” It was an earthquake that pulled apart the earth all the way to the Fire Sea. Water from the sea rushed into the void, sweeping away anything that had fallen into the crack, and people for a hundred miles around Eden suffered from starvation because men had been building ships instead of tending the land.
“And who knows if that really was what the seer predicted,” his sister said, echoing what she’d often argued with their tutor. “You’ve said it yourself. People want to believe life isn’t random. They feel safer if the seers have the power to see the future and call the winds. So they look at things that happen and find a way to fit those events around the words.”
“Except that if I have an attack, we know what will happen. It’s not magic, it’s logic.”
“Then we will deal with it,” his sister snapped, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. “No matter what happens, this isn’t going to be easy. I never once in my life thought I would sit upon the throne in the Hall of Virtues. I think your heart is stronger than you know. I think you would make a great king. But I will not ask you to do something that could cause you harm.”
“Do you want it?” he asked. “Do you want to sit on the throne?”
Carys hesitated. Not long. Just for an instant before she answered. But Andreus heard the pause before she said, “I want us to survive.”
So did he.
Andreus took his sister’s hand and held it tight.
“Keep your remedy with you always, Andreus. And be careful. The Trials aren’t the only thing working against us. We don’t know who was behind Father’s and Micah’s deaths or who killed the men in the tower or why the wind power line was sabotaged. We can’t trust anyone but each other.”
So much happening. So many threats.
“From the moment we leave this room, we must conduct ourselves as combatants. But if I need you, I’ll leave a note beneath your step.”
His step. The loose one he never failed to trip on as a k
id when he went to the battlements. “I’m going to miss talking to you, Carys.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” Her eyes glistened. She squeezed his fingers, then pulled hers away and stepped back toward the door. “We will talk again when you are King.”
And with that Carys disappeared out the door, leaving him to wait until she was long gone before he could depart as well. So he paced the room that felt smaller with every moment as anticipation and nerves began to churn inside him.
King.
Just a few days and he would rule on the throne. He would be good at it. Better than their father had been. He hadn’t cared that High Lord James was cruel to his people. Andreus would never forget visiting the Stronghold where Lord James ruled and pointing out the dirty, starving people lining the streets of the city. His father said a strong leader did what he must to keep his people in control.
Andreus had never understood how keeping people so weak they could barely stand was a show of strength. When he was King, he’d make sure the people were better cared for.
But only if he got through the Trials without an attack. If the Council saw his curse . . .
Andreus decided he’d waited long enough. He shifted the tapestry and slipped out of the cramped, time-forgotten room and headed downstairs to his mother’s quarters.
He spotted several guards and saw the way their eyes followed him as he walked through the corridors. His hand itched to hold on to the hilt of his sword.
A maid curtsied in the hall as she hurried past and gave Andreus a flirtatious look that just a few days ago he would have taken as an invitation and accepted with enthusiasm. Now he no longer had interest in what she was offering. He ignored the girl, approached his mother’s doors, and knocked. When there was no answer, he yelled, “Oben, it’s Prince Andreus. Let me in.”
The doors opened and he hurried into the dimness. Quickly he shut the door behind him. The doors to his mother’s bedroom were closed. Bits of glass and broken china and overturned chairs decorated the room.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Oben said. “Your mother needed quiet. A number of the Council of Elders and several of the lords and ladies of the court have come by, but I have been keeping all but Madame Jillian out. She gave something to the Queen to quiet her and encourage rest.”
Which meant his mother was drugged out of consciousness. After how she’d behaved on the castle’s steps, that was probably a good thing.
“Is Mother still . . . ” Should he say the word? Insane? “Lost in her grief?”
Oben sighed. “I fear the Queen is still not herself. I saw signs of her withdrawal from this world yesterday, but I thought she’d had too much tea and was not as clearheaded as she otherwise might be. Unfortunately, today . . .”
“I know. And because of today there are things happening that will make it hard for Carys and me to help Mother through this. We’re counting on you to keep her safe. Let no one but my sister and Madame Jillian through this door until we tell you otherwise.”
A locked entrance wouldn’t prevent entrance to men with swords who would be more than willing to shatter the door, but it would keep the Council of Elders and curiosity seekers in the court at bay.
“Of course, Your Highness. I will guard the Queen with my life.”
“I know you will.” Oben’s devotion to his mother was something Andreus could count on even if it was often a little disturbing in its passion. If Mother ordered Oben to slit his own throat, Andreus had no doubt the man would do it. “I’d like to see for myself that Mother’s okay.”
Carefully, Andreus opened the door to his mother’s bedroom, walked into the candlelit room, and closed the door behind him. Mother was in bed with the covers tucked perfectly around her. Her dark hair had been brushed until it gleamed and was fanned out perfectly around her pale face. The steady rise and fall of her chest told him she was deeply asleep.
Ever since he’d been born, she’d told him how strong he had to be. She’d told him he had to be stronger than anyone ever suspected . . . just as she was. Looking at her now, he resented the words he once lived by. She’d said she was stronger than everyone knew. But she wasn’t.
Turning his back on her, he knelt in front of a small gold cabinet and opened the door to the remedies and potions Madame Jillian provided his mother. There were bottles of all sizes and colors on the top two shelves, but the bottom shelves were filled with black vials and bottle after glass bottle in the deepest of crimson red.
Quickly, he pulled all the black vials out of the cabinet and tucked them in a deep blue silk bag sitting on a chair nearby. His mother had always warned him to only take the remedy during an attack because too much exposure to the herbs would eventually render them ineffective for him. The idea of not being able to calm the curse when it grabbed hold had terrified him into drinking from the black vial only when it was absolutely necessary. He just hoped that there wouldn’t be much need for it in the days to come.
He tied the bag and headed out the door and back to his rooms only to find Lady Imogen standing outside it flanked by two guards outside his door.
“Lady Imogen,” he said, aware of the guards listening to his every word. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I know today has been long and difficult for you.”
“Today has been difficult for us all, Your Highness. I was hoping to talk to you about the Queen.” She glanced at the men flanking her. “Would you mind if we spoke in private?”
“Please, come in.” He let her pass, then shut the door behind them.
Imogen stood in the center of the room with her hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes wide with uncertainty. When the lock was turned she flew into his arms and buried her face in his chest. The feel of her body against his made everything else fade away.
Tilting her face up, he pressed his lips against hers and felt her shiver in response. He ran one hand down her hips then pulled her tight against him as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to curse the Gods when she stepped back and put a hand against his chest.
“No. The guards will be paying attention as to how long I talk with you and they report to Elder Cestrum. So I cannot stay. I just had to make sure you weren’t upset with me because of what happened in the Hall of Virtues. It was the only way to keep the Council of Elders from seizing control of the throne and hurting you in that very moment. I would have told you first, but there wasn’t time.”
“I’m glad you showed up when you did.”
“And your sister?” Imogen asked. “Is the Princess glad?”
“Carys is relieved that we aren’t spending tonight in the North Tower, but she did wonder why you had never mentioned the Book of Knowledge or that law before.”
“I never thought there was reason,” Imogen said. “Micah was alive. Your mother was strong. I never thought my vision meant that there would be a contest between you and your sister. Not until today when the Queen . . . Suddenly I knew why there had been no visions save the one since I came to the Palace of Winds. There can be no other visions until the path the kingdom will travel down is chosen. I will not be able to see what choices must be made until the winner of the Trials is decided. I know you love your sister, but Dreus, you must win.”
“Carys would make a good Queen,” he said, putting the bag with the vials on his desk.
“I know you believe that, my prince.” Imogen moved across the room and took his hands. “But there are two paths in front of the kingdom and only one of those leads to light. You are the light. You must not let your love for your sister cloud your judgment.”
Great. Another vision. Only this one pulled instead of repelled. Maybe because for the first time he wasn’t the cursed one.
“I will do my best to beat my sister at the Trials. That’s all I can do.” He kissed the back of Imogen’s hand, then turned it over and placed another kiss on her palm. But instead of the passion he’d hoped to ignite, worry flickered across Imogen’s face. She reached out and brushed his cheek with her finger
tips and looked deep into his eyes.
Then she turned and hurried toward the door. She didn’t look back as she slipped outside, leaving him on edge. There was no sleeping in his current state. He needed to walk off the nervous energy.
He put the sack of black vials in his bedroom in a space behind the mirror that he’d created years ago. Then he went back into the hall. A guard at the end of the corridor turned and watched as Andreus strode to the stairs and headed up to the place he felt the most relaxed: the battlements.
“Prince Andreus!” Max almost ran smack into him as he barreled out of the door that led to the steps of the battlements. “I’ve been watching for you. People say the Queen went crazy and that you and the Princess might go crazy too and we’ll have to have a new King. That’s not true, is it? You’re not going crazy.”
“Much of today has made me feel as if I have,” Andreus joked. But Max was taking his hands in and out of his pockets and looking at him with a stricken expression.
“The Queen isn’t feeling well enough to take her place on the throne, but my sister and I are both fine.”
“That’s good. Not about the Queen. That’s the doom. So is what happened to the King and Prince Micah. I’m . . . sorry.”
Andreus swallowed down the grief those words reawakened. Today he’d heard the Council and lords and ladies from every corner of the kingdom say those words. Over and over. None of them had been as simple or sincere.
“I’m sorry, too, Max.” He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked up at the orb shining bright against the dark of the night. A windmill churned in the shadows to the right of it. Looking at the lights reminded him . . .
“Max.” He looked down at the boy. “I know you told someone about the test for my new design. You aren’t in trouble, but I have to know who you spoke with.”
Max kicked at the floor. “Nobody important, Prince Andreus. Honest. Just Madame Jillian when she was listening to me breathe. And some of the ladies who were bored and asked me to tell them a story. And some older boys. They said I didn’t really know you so I told them to prove I did.”
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