“My father told me there was little glory in fighting for honor, and this is the last place he would want me to be.”
“So . . .” The man nodded. “You’re here as a rebellion against your family, my lord? Could you be the younger son who will not inherit the title or the land and is looking for something for himself?”
“I am the youngest in my household, and I was taught that the only way I would gain anything in life was to seek it out and take it.” It was their father’s philosophy that his sister lived by.
“My father told me the same,” the King’s Guardsman said as Graylem’s sister tilted her head to listen to whatever the seeress said. “And my older brother was not one inclined to share.”
“I, too, have a sibling not inclined to charity,” Graylem admitted.
In the distance, Deevana dropped into a low curtsy. The seeress smiled and said something, which made the other women nod before they started toward the courtyard’s gate. The guards snapped to attention. The older guard sent the other three to meet the seeress and then turned back to Graylem.
“That sword is lighter than most that the King’s Guard typically uses. If you can’t swing something bigger, you should go home.”
“If I swing something bigger, I wouldn’t win the fight. I’ve worked hard to make sure I can win. I figure in a fight winning is what’s most important. You must think so as well.” Graylem nodded to the blade at the man’s side, which was almost the same length and width as his own.
Now the King’s Guardsman smiled. “Those of us searching to make our own fortune have to do what we think is best. Are you serious about wanting to know if you have what it takes to become a member of Eden’s Guard?”
Graylem nodded.
“Then come to the Palace tomorrow morning and ask for Roddick. I admit, you have made me curious to see if there are more similarities between us than our swords.”
The guard walked to the gates and fell in step beside the seeress. One of the younger guards flanked her on the other side and the other two walked behind her as she traveled around the stone wall then down the street past where Graylem stood. Her eyes were lowered and her hands clasped in front of her as people on the street called for the blessing of the wind and the light. As she passed Graylem, she looked back at the tree for just a moment. A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of her lips, transforming her face from one of fragile loveliness to a beauty as strong as a blade. He saw his sister talking to several of the other women at the tree, and when he looked back at Lady Imogen, the iron strength was gone as she headed, flanked by the guards he had spoken with, to the Palace of Winds.
“You told me you were going to stay inside,” he said when the door to Deevana’s rooms opened and his sister appeared.
His sister didn’t bother to feign contrition. After unfastening her cloak, she threw it on the end of the bed and smiled as she dropped into an ornate armchair. “Sasha, my maid, suggested I visit the Tree of Virtues to ask the Gods for a blessing. She said it is the first thing most ladies do after arriving in Garden City.”
“And what blessing did you ask for?”
“It is not polite to ask a lady to reveal her heart’s desire. At least that is what some of the women at the tree were saying when I arrived.” She stood up and walked the length of the room. “Besides, you already know what I want. I want this.” Deevana spun in a circle with her arms extended. “The curtsies and the ladies and the beds that are as fluffy as clouds and—”
A knock came at the door. “Lady Deevana, I have the supper you requested for you and your brother.”
Deevana winked at him. “Enter!”
A handsome woman entered carrying a large tray. The girl, Sasha, trailed behind her carrying another. The smells of simmered meat and potatoes and some kind of spice that he wasn’t familiar with filled the room. His stomach rumbled as the two placed both trays on the table, took covers off the bowls of thick, brown soup, and arranged a jug of wine and a pot of tea and cups for each at each place setting.
Once everything was arranged, the woman Graylem assumed was the innkeeper’s wife asked, “Is there anything else I can get for you, my lord and lady?”
Graylem rose and bumped the table. A goblet fell to the floor with a clang and started to roll. He reached for it and bumped the table, sending a spoon flying. Heat flooded him as the dark-haired girl scurried to retrieve both the cup and the spoon.
“I will send my daughter back with a clean cup and spoon, my lord,” the innkeeper’s wife said.
“No need,” he said, at the same time his sister snapped, “Please do, and bring more bread. After so much travel, my brother and I are both hungry.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, my lady. Ring the bell when you wish the trays to be taken away.” She and her daughter curtsied and headed out.
The minute the door closed, his sister whirled around to face him. “Are you trying to get us caught?” she hissed, stalking toward him. “Lords don’t stand when servants come into the room, and whatever you do, don’t thank them. Do you want to ruin everything for me with your bumbling? No wonder Father always said you would never be able to survive outside of Blackthorn.”
Graylem turned, hating the disappointment shining in his sister’s eyes and the disdain in her voice. “We will be gone in a matter of days, and the next time you come to Garden City you will be married to a lord and you will be a lady.”
“Are you simple, Graylem? Do you not understand that people question what is different? If you act like you aren’t a lord, they will start to question whether you are.”
“As long as we pay them, it won’t matter—”
“Of course it matters. You need to act as they expect or they will start to ask questions that cannot be asked. They expect you to stay seated and to be served. They expect you to be arrogant.”
“Look,” he said, pushing away the embarrassment. “I understand how much you have always wanted rooms like these and to have people wait on you instead of you serving them. But we aren’t important to anyone. They won’t care—”
A knock came at the door.
“Enter!” his sister snapped. The door opened. “Be quick,” Deevana said as the girl hurried inside, placed the new cup and spoon on the table, bobbed a curtsy, and hurried out.
When the door clicked shut, Deevana paced to the other side of the room and placed her hand on the stone hearth. “I have been invited to the Palace of Winds, Graylem!” She looked down into the fire. “Or I guess I should say that Lady Deevana is requested to visit with the seeress at the Palace of Winds, because a kitchen maid would never have dared enter the gate and pray at the Tree of Virtues while the seeress and other ladies of the court were there. The Seeress of Eden, who will one day be the Queen of Eden, spoke to me. She will allow me to see the wonders of the Palace of Winds and listen to the musical performance that is set to entertain the court ladies tomorrow. If anyone were to question who we say we are . . . if anyone whispered in the wrong ear . . .” Deevana turned. “What do you think the Crown Prince would say if word reaches the Palace that I lied to his betrothed—to an advisor to the King and the Council of Elders—about being a lady?”
It was a punishable crime for a commoner to lie to a member of the nobility. At Blackthorn, those whose lies were exposed were flogged once for each lie that was told—painful, but lenient compared to the stories his father shared of what happened to those who were imprisoned in the North Tower of the Palace of Winds.
He thought of his own invitation to the Palace gates. After having his skill questioned by the older guardsman, he wanted a chance to pit his blade against those who were the very best. While the deaths he had caused gave him pause as to whether he could kill on command, he still wanted to know whether he was good enough to gain the right to serve. Whether he might have a future beyond the one he had lost.
Shaking his head, he said, “We should ride for Irae tomorrow . . .”
“No.” Deevana dropped into a ch
air and took a piece of bread from the tray. “No lady would refuse an invitation from the next Queen and current Seer of Eden. If I left now, it would draw even more notice and cause questions should I return.” She popped a bit of the bread into her mouth and sighed with contentment. “And none of this will be a problem if you just try to be more like the kind of lord they have come to expect.”
She poured a cup of tea and held it out to him. “Please, Gray,” she said with a catch in her voice. “We won’t be here for very long, and after this week is over, I promise you won’t have to worry over me ever again.”
“Somehow,” he said, taking the cup of tea and wishing he could swallow away the knot of worry lodged in his throat, “I doubt that will be the case, sister.”
But he could dream.
He was standing at the door of the stables the next morning when his sister slipped out of the side door of the inn. Her hair was twined into what looked like fancy ropes and wrapped around other parts of her hair that had been curled. It was probably considered attractive here in Garden City. To him it just looked complicated.
“Going to the Palace of Winds?” he asked, falling into step next to her.
To Deevana’s credit, she didn’t flinch and her eyes didn’t widen with shock, but the catch of her breath told her his presence caught her unawares. “I did not see you come out of your room.”
Not a surprise since he’d assumed she’d have set her maid or someone else watch his quarters after they rose at dawn. Which is why he slipped outside before the sun started to creep into the sky. “And you were hoping if I was watching from my window I wouldn’t see you leave.”
“I guess I should find it comforting to have a brother that knows me as well as I know him,” she said lightly. “I knew you would want to escort me to the Palace and that your bumbling could cause me trouble.”
Embarrassment curdled in his stomach, but he held his ground. His sister might not want him to be a part of her plans, but he wasn’t going to let her get into trouble if he could help it. “You said you wanted me to act like a lord. While I’m not always sure what you think that means, I am pretty sure a lord would not allow his sister to wander around a strange city alone.”
Deevana frowned then nodded. “Very well, but once we get there . . .”
“You don’t have to worry about me hovering,” he said. “No one has to know we are together.”
“You don’t think they’ll wonder who you are while you are waiting around for me by the gates?”
“Who says I’ll be waiting outside the gates?” Then he smiled. “You aren’t the only member of this family with an invitation to enter the Palace of Winds. Yesterday, while you were meeting the Seeress of Eden, I met with a member of the King’s Guard.”
Surprise filled his sister’s eyes, and she gave him a look filled with pride. “Good for you, Graylem! You’ve been busy!”
Since their horses and saddles were originally stolen from the guard, Graylem insisted they walk through the city streets to the Palace. The air was cool and crisp. Scents of baking bread, simmering spices, and people living in tight quarters hung in the air. The streets seemed endless, but with each step the Palace of Winds and the windmills atop the battlements grew closer. As did the people inside the Palace.
“I have been busy since we arrived,” he said, glancing at his sister. “And I’ve heard some things about the Seeress Imogen whom you are going to be visiting today. It is said that she has mostly avoided spending time with the women of the court and instead can most often been seen on the battlements looking up at the sky or traveling back and forth through the city to the Tree of Virtues. She always leaves an offering there.”
Her eyes flicked to him then returned forward.
“They also think she was chosen as seer because King Ulron wanted her as his mistress and cared little of whether she could call the wind or read the stars.”
“You seem to have heard a lot,” his sister commented.
He had made a point of venturing into several taverns and inns when Deevana was asleep to listen to the local gossip and to voice the occasional question. Fatigue was not as important as understanding what his sister was getting herself—and dragging him—into.
“Lady Imogen is betrothed to Prince Micah,” his sister added. “And the King doesn’t need a mistress since he already has one.”
“You seem to have also heard a great deal.”
“Young Sasha is happy to answer the questions of her lady. As is the innkeeper’s stable hand. After all, a lady must see her horse is well cared for.” She smiled.
Leave it to Deevana to find her own sources of information. Graylem could almost see her mind turning as she contemplated how her knowledge combined with his could help her gain whatever she wanted. Because she wanted something more than just seeing the inside of the Palace of Winds and playacting as a lady. He just hoped his sister wasn’t contemplating trying to become one of the King’s conquests. From what the merchants in the inn said, His Majesty was always on the lookout for another and save one who mysteriously disappeared they were all well rewarded for their attentions. Jewels and coin would not make her the lady she had wished to be, but perhaps she had changed her aims?
They turned a corner and stepped into a large square, and thoughts of his sister’s plots disappeared as he saw the white steps—dozens of them—maybe hundreds—cut into the side of the plateau leading up to the Palace. The windmills . . . The steps . . . The white walls . . . The orb waiting to shine again in the darkness . . . All were exactly as the stories described. Suddenly, it was as if he were five and sitting next to his sister as they listened with rapt attention to the Harvest Festival storytellers.
They climbed the steps side by side, his sister nodding at the guardsman they passed.
“Lady Imogen said there is a path cut into the plateau to the south,” Deevana said when they stopped at one of the landings so she could catch her breath. “I am to present myself to the guards at the main gate, and they will take me to the gathering I have been invited to attend.”
“Remember what you promised, Deevana,” he said quietly. “No stealing. Especially not here, where the King could have you thrown in the infamous North Tower and leave you to rot or worse.”
“Lady Deevana, brother,” she corrected under her breath. “And stealing is for commoners. Ladies simply have to make an impression to get what they want.” With that, she gathered her skirts and started up the last set of steps.
“Just be careful,” he said.
Deevana paused. “I am not the one who will be facing battle-trained men with swords. So it is I who am asking you, Graylem, please take care. This place is so far everything I have ever dreamed of, but it won’t be if I lose the only person left that I love.”
They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, Graylem trying to ignore the knot of nerves growing deep in his gut. He had killed the deserters who had attacked them, but he had no idea whether they had been well trained. And while he believed he could have defeated the lords he fought in the yard outside the smithy, he had never actually beaten them. If he truly wanted to be a member of the elite King’s Guard, this could be the only chance he had to convince anyone of his skill.
“You go first,” Deevana said when they reached the top. “I want to have the memory of you entering the Palace of Winds.”
“And you’d rather no one see us enter together and ask either of us questions about the other.”
“Like I said, it’s nice that we know each other so well. I would wish the light of luck shines on you . . .” Deevana gave him an impish smile. “But I honestly don’t think you’ll need it.”
He tried to smile back, but anxiety tickled his stomach as he turned and walked toward the high archway entrance of the Palace of Winds, which was flanked by members of the guard.
One guardsman stepped forward, hand on his broadsword, when Graylem reached the open gate. “My lord.”
The distinctive clangs of
metal against metal sounded from somewhere inside the walls.
It took several tries for Graylem to find his voice before he finally said, “I was told to come to the gates and ask for Roddick. He’s a member of the King’s Guard.”
“I know who Roddick is.” The guard nodded. “Follow me.”
They passed benches and trees and people speaking in clusters or standing in alcoves, but while Graylem knew they were there, he barely saw them as he followed behind the guardsman. The sounds of fighting and men shouting grew louder as they walked through the main courtyard, down a path, and into where the men of Eden’s Guard trained.
There were dozens of them in a large practice field covered with trampled grass that had yet to turn green. Their mail shirts, shields, and helmets glistened in the sun. Men charged and slashed with blades, while in another part of the practice field others launched arrows into targets.
“Lord Roddick, this lord came to the gate asking to see you!” His escort shouted toward a small group standing next to the fence at the edge of the practice field.
The King’s Guardsman turned. When he spotted Graylem, he threw back his head and laughed. “I guess you meant it when you said you were looking to find your own opportunities. Either that or you are one of the lords that comes here thinking they’ll make the women sigh and end up in a traveling minstrel’s song if they join us. No one has yet made up a song about walking the battlements on a windy night, and most women prefer men who aren’t likely to end up dead. Of course, you could be the first.”
The men standing with Roddick laughed—at him.
Heat filled his cheeks as Roddick yelled, “Get back to work,” to the men. When they did as he bade, he crossed the grass toward Graylem. “You can go back to your post,” he instructed the escort. Roddick waited for Graylem’s escort to leave before saying, “I was curious if I would see you again, my lord. It takes courage, cunning, anger, or sheer desperation to walk through those gates.”
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