Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(31)

But by the time the doors to the tomb were once again closed, darkness was starting to fall.

The ride back was faster—which meant it was bumpier. Carys’s still-healing wounds screamed with each bounce. But the screech that came from the mountains—and the answering call that sounded like a rusty gate being opened—made everyone turn and look behind them and had Carys nudging her horse, Nala, to go faster.

The cold season was upon them. The Xhelozi were beginning to awaken.

The sky darkened. Huddled deep in her cloak, trying to ignore the anxiety, Carys felt the desperate craving pulling at her. The procession rode out of the foothills and closer to the plateau where the orb of Eden and the rest of the lights glowed bright and promised safety.

Another screech echoed in the night. Farther away than before, but still terrifying. Carys looked over her shoulder and squinted at the mountains rising through the shadows.

Something moved near the foothills.

The Council and Captain Monteros urged everyone to go faster. The city gates and the safety of the walls were less than a mile away. Just as they reached the main entrance, a horse veered from the front of the group and circled back in the direction of the foothills of the mountains.

“Mother,” Carys yelled as she wheeled her horse through the group of riders. “Mother, stop!”

“My king!” her mother wailed. Her cape billowed as she rode in the direction of certain danger. Behind Carys, Andreus shouted, but he was too far away to catch up. Carys leaned forward, pushing Nala to go faster as she glanced toward the base of the mountains and the shadows moving there. Not all of the Xhelozi would be ready to come out of their hibernation, and only once that Carys could remember did any who awoke this early travel this far from the mountains. But any that did would be hungry.

“Mother,” she screamed. “Stop.”

A horse from the back of the procession thundered away from the group. Her mother’s horse slowed as the black stallion and the man in a dark cloak pounded toward them and Carys was relieved to see him grab the reins.

“Let me go,” her mother called. “I have to go. They want me to go.”

The rider ignored the words and led the Queen and the horse back in the direction of the gates.

“No! I command you,” her mother screamed. “Your queen commands you!”

She kicked at the other rider and caught the horse in its flanks, causing it to rear. The rider held on to his own seat, but lost his grip on Mother, who slid off her horse and began running toward the mountains, yelling, “They’re calling for me. Can’t you hear it? I have to go.”

The Queen stumbled on a rock and pitched forward. Oben reached her and helped her rise.

Blood trickled down Mother’s face as Carys reached her.

“Mother,” Carys said, sliding from her own horse while Oben tried to help his queen stand. “You’re hurt. Let’s get back to the Palace of Winds so Oben can stop the bleeding and get you ready for the coronation.”

Her mother shook her head and pulled against Oben’s grip. “They are waiting.”

“You’re right,” Carys said. “Everyone is waiting for their queen inside the city. Oben, perhaps it would be better if you helped Mother into one of the carts for the rest of the journey?”

Oben nodded.

“No.” Her mother screamed and kicked and tried to bite Oben to force him to release her from his iron grip. But he held fast as he climbed with the Queen into one of the now empty funeral carts. “Didn’t you hear? I have to go.”

“Get her into the city,” Carys commanded the driver. Andreus and Elder Cestrum took up places behind the cart and rumbled toward the gates.

“Clear the way,” Captain Monteros yelled as the gongs sounded and Carys’s mother passed through the gate into the safety of the city while screaming, “Let me go. I don’t belong here. You have to let me go.” Finally, she stopped struggling and yelling and instead kept murmuring the words to herself.

People came out of their houses and lined the streets that were lit by the power of the wind. They were no longer somber and quiet as they had been earlier during the final procession of the King and Prince. Now they were shouting and a few young children were racing down the street waving at the procession. To them death was over and the time for the next step in the kingdom had come. It was the way things were. The way things were supposed to be.

“Long live Queen Betrice,” someone shouted.

“No!” Carys heard her mother say.

Another voice took up the cheer as the streets became lined with more people looking to show their support for the new ruler.

The solo shouts grew into cheers as the procession reached the base of the white stairs that led up to the castle sitting high above.

“Long live the Queen! Long live Queen Betrice.”

Andreus helped their mother down from the cart. Oben stayed a step behind. The Queen looked around bewildered as Chief Elder Cestrum took her arm and began leading her up the white stairs.

The shouts grew louder still as Andreus took Imogen’s arm and headed up behind them with Carys following—watching her brother lean down and whisper something to the seer that made her look up at him with a small, secret smile.

Their mother and the Chief Elder halted on the first of the wide landings carved into the castle’s long staircase entrance. Elder Cestrum turned and held up his iron claw. The crowd below went silent.