Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(45)

Carys wished she could ask him how he was feeling, but she spotted Elder Jacobs watching them. The Elder had a black falcon resting on his gloved hand. The bird was unhooded and Carys knew it was just waiting for the Elder’s command to attack. Elder Jacobs had never lifted a sword in a tournament. Instead, he let the bird he trained cause pain to others for him. She spotted Elder Ulrich, watching the bird—disdain pouring from his one good eye. Riding next to Ulrich was an elegant-looking, olive-skinned young man around her age who seemed vaguely familiar. He had a narrow, sculpted face and dark wavy hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders. But it was the seemingly careless command of his horse as he steered it around several children who came racing out of the crowd that struck a chord in her memory. This was the man responsible for catching her mother when she attempted to race back to the mountains. The unfamiliar crest on his cloak announced him as one of the foreign dignitaries who had come for the funeral and coronation.

The foreigner listened to whatever Elder Ulrich was saying, but he was watching her intently. Just as Elder Jacobs and his falcon were.

So instead of offering her support to her brother as she wished to, she straightened her shoulders and said, “I’m looking forward to winning, brother.” And nudged her horse down the slope of the hill to whatever the Council of Elders had waiting for them.

Children waved and ran after her and her brother as their horses cantered past. Loud cheers shook the earth from those standing twenty or more deep around the tournament fences. Vendors darted around, selling strips of blue and yellow fabric, the colors of Eden’s flag. But instead of being combined they were separate. Divided. Like the two platforms she and Andreus would stand upon.

Blue for her. Yellow for her brother.

As she looked around the spectators she spotted dozens who must have heard what the colored bands symbolized. They were sporting yellow flags and armbands. None that Carys could see in the crowds displayed blue favors. Her brother’s skill and magnanimity were known far and wide. The people already thought he was a hero. They would be excited to have him as their King.

She hadn’t been flattering Dreus when she assured him he’d make a good ruler—far better than she would. She didn’t have the patience for listening to the grievances of blacksmiths and merchants and lords and soldiers, didn’t have the desire to fix their petty concerns with a royal decree. And when it came to the windmills—she liked the results of the powerful machines, but she had no interest in understanding how they worked or managing the Masters of Light or allocating power allotments to the city.

And even if she was willing to deal with those things, the idea of having armed guards follow her wherever she went sounded horrifying. Andreus liked attention. But every time Carys had to push herself in front to protect her brother she learned anew how painful it was to be seen—and judged. The strap hurt, but those wounds healed. It was the way everyone looked at her—as though she were unworthy of the crown—that made her want to sink into the red bottle and stay there.

People whispered.

They shook their heads, and Carys knew that even if she had not given her promise to keep her brother safe, she would still get those reactions.

Needlepoint and sitting around playing cards or strumming instruments held no fascination for her. A model of feminine decorum she’d never be. She was destined to be the royal disappointment to the kingdom. There was no point in inflicting that on the throne if there was another choice. As long as she got Andreus through whatever these Trials would be, he would keep the kingdom from passing judgment on her.

Carys pushed Nala to a gallop to the south side where the viewing platforms waited. Spectators in the back pushed and jostled to get a glimpse of the noble procession, while the others up front cheered when one of the men competing at the lists was knocked from his horse. The fallen man scrambled to his feet and raced for his sword instead of yielding. Carys didn’t have to watch to know that, for the smaller man, it wouldn’t end well as he faced down a much larger opponent who had ditched his lance in favor of a battle-ax. The promise of the coins or valuable weapons offered to the winners was too tempting for those in need to turn down. They’d rather risk an ax in their throats for the possibility of a better life than survive and be forced to live the lives they currently had.

The procession rounded the back of the platforms as the spectators gasped and then several long seconds of silence descended on the crowd. Quiet in the middle of the tournament meant only one thing.

Death.

The sound of cheering then resumed, signaling the body had been removed and the next contest had begun. Nobles often bet on whether or not competitors would survive the events they participated in. She wondered if they would bet on her and her brother today.

When they reached the viewing platforms, grooms came to take their horses as the Council of Elders’ pages, easy to spot in their all-black attire, informed the nobles of the purpose of the yellow and blue platforms and instructed them to choose a spot on the one representing the successor they hoped would win the crown.

One by one familiar faces from the court hurried toward the platform with the yellow canopy. A few had the decency to look back at Carys with guilt, but most never bothered to glance her way as they pledged their support to her brother.

She then saw Imogen, wrapped in a snow-white cloak, blush as Andreus escorted the seer up the stairs to his platform.

Good, she thought. If the seer and the court openly supported Andreus, it would make it harder for the Council to depose him in favor of Lord Garret. Carys spotted him now, looking at her from the base of the center platform where the Council members sat. Elder Cestrum put his clawed hand on Garret’s broad shoulder and said something to him, but still Garret didn’t move. He just stared at her. His long red hair hung free today and in the sunlight framed his face like the sun.