Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(69)

Andreus’s expression of pride when he was declared the winner.

Errik’s warning and his smile.

The images swarmed in her head. Her fingers shook as she unfastened her dress, jumping when the fire in the hearth crackled and when the wind howled outside her window. Everything in her tensed and clenched as she pulled a simple-to-fasten dress out of her wardrobe and slipped it on. Then she knelt down next to her wardrobe and dug in the back with unsteady hands for the red bottles and the answer to the anxiety that was getting worse with every passing minute. She needed more of the Tears. Just a little would make it better—smooth everything out so she could find a way out of all of this for her and her brother, as she had always done.

Only when her hands opened the small panel at the back of the closet and she reached inside, she felt nothing.

Carys pushed herself to her feet. She grabbed armfuls of fabric and threw dresses to the floor until the wardrobe was empty and there was nothing blocking her view to confirm what she already knew.

The red bottles she needed were gone.





16


Andreus turned the empty red bottle over in his hand, then set it next to the line of other bottles on the table before going back to the window and closing it.

Perhaps he should get rid of the bottles so Carys would be forced to wonder who was responsible for taking them. Rarely did he deliberately provoke her anger. After all, he had always needed her to work with him to protect his secret. His curse.

Now that Elder Jacobs was bringing the Council to Andreus’s side, he didn’t need Carys to protect him anymore.

Still he stared at the bottles, marveling at how far they had come in only a week. Carys working to orchestrate an assassination attempt. Him ordering an innocent boy put to death.

The boy.

Andreus shook his head against the memory of the blade slicing through Varn’s neck. The sounds the head and the body made when they hit the floor.

Those sounds proved he was strong, he told himself. They proved he would be a king people feared and respected and would not cross.

He shifted his gaze from the bottles toward the bed where his mother slept before stepping out of the dim room and into the light.

Oben stood and asked, “Did the Queen stir at all when you spoke to her, Your Highness?”

“I’m afraid not, Oben,” he said with a sigh. “Whatever Madame Jillian gave Mother has her in a deep sleep.”

Oben shook his head and clutched his hands together. “Your mother seemed more lucid the last time she was awake. Madame Jillian was hopeful that this last dose would clear the rest of the darkness from the Queen’s mind and return her to us as she was before the King and Prince Micah died.”

“I hope that is true, Oben,” Andreus said, turning for the door. “You will send word if my mother’s condition changes?”

“I will, Your Highness. When it does, the Queen will be glad to hear you and so many others have come to spend time at her side.”

“Others?” he asked. “What others?”

“Several of the visiting dignitaries and High Lords have come to ask after the Queen. I have refused them all, but at one point I stepped out and when I returned Elder Ulrich was exiting the Queen’s room. He apologized for not waiting for me to allow him entry, but insisted it was of the utmost importance for him to see the Queen’s condition for himself.”

Andreus stilled. “Did he tell you why?”

“Only that it had to do with the Council’s duty to the safety of the realm.”

“Did he stay long?”

“Quite a while, Your Highness, and he spoke with her. I thought I heard the Queen’s voice while he was in there, but Elder Ulrich swore she never woke.” Oben shrugged. “I must be hearing things.”

Or not. Andreus looked back at his mother’s closed door. “What did you imagine you heard?”

“Nothing really, Your Highness. Elder Ulrich was speaking too quietly for me to make out the words. There was only one I thought I heard clearly.”

“What word was that?”

“Curse. Not long after that Elder Ulrich came out of the Queen’s room looking disturbed.”

As Andreus was now.

Could his mother have been talking in her drug-addled sleep and let loose Andreus’s secret? The possibility haunted him as he walked back to the Hall of Virtues, his hand on the hilt of his sword in case someone was hidden in the shadows. He almost hoped someone did attack. After years of living in fear of having his curse discovered and being slaughtered for the crime of being born, he was glad to face enemies he could see and kill.

The true question for him now was whether his sister was one of them.

The Hall of Virtues was empty and dark except for the throne, which was sitting in a round pool of light. All signs of the ball and the trial that had taken place here were gone.

“Prince Andreus?”

He turned and spotted Max standing in the arched doorway and smiled. “I guess you received my message. Come in.” The boy nodded and took several hesitant steps into the room instead of racing forward as was his typical way. “You must be tired,” Andreus said. “You’re normally in bed by now.”

Max shrugged and looked down at his shoes.

Andreus walked toward the boy. “Is something wrong, Max? Are you feeling all right? Have you had trouble breathing today?”