Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(17)

Andreus tried to breathe slow and deep, but the breaths would only come shallow and fast. He pushed aside his concern as the tallest of the guardsmen, with a full, dark beard and seven stripes on each shoulder to indicate he was a member of the King’s elite force, stepped forward and bowed. “My queen, it is true we failed you and our king and prince, but it did not happen on the battlefields.”

“Then where?” Carys asked, stepping away from Andreus. “Where did my father and brother fall?”

Andreus forced himself to concentrate on the man’s words and not on Imogen’s stricken face. Or the sweat trickling down his neck and his back. Or the pain that pulsed through him with every heartbeat. Growing stronger.

“It was an ambush, Your Highness. At least a hundred of them in white-and-red livery swarmed out of the wilds of the Tempera. By the time we knew what was happening, the King had fallen from his horse and over half of our men were dead. The surprise was an advantage too great to be overcome. All but the five of us fell to the cowards of Adderton’s swords.”

“Impossible,” Carys said under her breath so quietly that Andreus was sure only he had heard her under the gust of wind that tugged the cloaks around them. He could see the way she studied the men who failed to see their father and brother home. Then she stared at their father and brother’s bodies and frowned. There was something she saw that he didn’t. He tried to focus on what that might be, but the pain was spreading and it was all he could do to not gasp aloud.

“The attackers killed the King and Prince and just happened to leave the five of you alive?” Elder Ulrich stepped forward and trained his good eye on the men.

“You should have died.” Andreus’s mother’s voice cracked like a whip. “Your oath and your honor demanded that you die defending your king and your prince. You should have died!”

The King’s Guardsman stared at the Queen, then swallowed hard and nodded. “I was at the front of the Guard when the fighting started, my queen. I wanted to die defending them. I intended to die.” He glanced at Imogen, who was standing silent and sad and alone. “When I was struck down, I fell not far from where King Ulron lay on the leaves, lifeless. I wanted to rise and avenge his death, but I knew the battle was ended. Most of the King’s Guard were dead. And I realized the only way to truly avenge my liege’s death was to make sure that those who ordered the attack against us were brought to justice. I feigned death so I could recover the bodies of the King and Prince and bring them home . . . to you, my queen.”

The bearded guardsman bowed his head. Andreus’s mother started to tremble and Andreus clenched his fist as pain pulsed and grew and pulled at his chest. His knees went weak. His vision blurred, cleared, then blurred again.

No. Not now. Not today.

“Home?” his mother asked quietly. “You saved your life to bring dead men home? Your king is dead because your King’s Guard forgot how to do its job.” His mother paced in front of the bodies like a rock wolf studying its prey. “There is a penalty for breaking your oath.”

“Surely, my queen,” Elder Cestrum stepped forward, “these men have seen horrors. They can be forgiven—”

“My husband—your king—is dead. My son—the Crown Prince—is dead. There will be no forgiveness. I want their heads.”

The crowd around them gasped and murmured.

“But, my lady,” Elder Jacobs began. “These men have information that is vital to—”

She whirled around and stared at each member of the Council. “I don’t care what they might know. The kingdom will know that an oath to the virtuous crown is the way of the light and those who break their oaths and walk in darkness will perish. Andreus will be the one who shows them. Make room for the King’s justice.”

“Prince Andreus does not have his sword, my queen,” said Chief Elder Cestrum.

He heard his name and the words around it, but the voices sounded as if they were underwater. Muted as the world started to dim. Sweat poured down his back. His heart . . . it hurt. Gods, it hurt. He couldn’t breathe.

“Carys.” The word was strained and barely audible. Pain was spreading faster. Hotter. The pinpricks from before had spread. His chest was tightening. Each breath felt more impossible to take.

“Someone give my son a sword,” his mother screamed. “He will show you what happens to those who do not stay true to Eden and the seven virtues.”

He heard the whispered scraping of metal as it came free of a sheath. No. There was no way he could swing a blade. Not now. His mother would know that if she were paying attention. And now everyone would be watching him.

“Prince Andreus.” He blinked as a blurry guardsman appeared, offering a massive broadsword with both hands. “My blade is yours.”

Everything ached. His vision swam. The pulsing of his blood roared in his ears as he reached out for the sword that was bigger than the one he wore when he wasn’t working with the Masters.

“Do it. For me, my son,” he heard his mother command.

His legs threatened to give way. He’d never be able to lift the sword. Not now. Not with his chest barely able to take in air and his knees weak and fighting to keep him upright. But what choice did he have?

The lights were so bright. The pain of his curse dug deep into his chest.

Cursed.