Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(78)

Elder Jacobs stepped forward. “The word of a lord who has taken an oath to the King weighs more heavily in our laws than that of a commoner who might be encouraged to say what he believes will gain him reward. One who seeks to be King should understand that. The captain and the guard will hunt down the true attacker. Meanwhile the Lady Imogen will be taken to the chapel and honored as her service to the kingdom demands.”

Elder Cestrum and Elder Urlich turned toward Captain Monteros. Carys’s foreign dignitary faded back and headed off to one of the northern exits. The gathered nobles whispered to each other as if it was settled. Nothing was settled. He was to be King and they would listen to his commands.

“Wait . . . ” His throat was too tight for the word to have any force. He had to get out of here. He had to relax so the symptoms of the curse would fade. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave her.

“I admire your dedication to the woman who was to marry your brother, Your Highness.” Elder Jacobs stepped next to him and lowered his snakelike voice. “But I fear many will start to wonder if you have other motives for demanding the justice you seek. More . . . intimate reasons that might not seem as virtuous should they come to light.”

Andreus pulled his eyes away from Imogen’s face and looked at the Elder. “That sounds like a threat.”

“No, Your Highness. It is a warning from one who would like to see you take the throne in strength. And I would be a poor ally if I didn’t mention that if your . . . involvement with Lady Imogen comes to light, it will not take long for speculation to begin about whether you had a hand in your brother’s death.”

“I had nothing—”

“Of course not, Your Highness. But there are those who would see your involvement as a sign of disrespect for the Crown Prince, and your desire to punish your sister as an indication that you don’t want to have to compete anymore for the throne.” Elder Jacobs looked at Lord Garret, who was speaking with Elder Cestrum, then back at Andreus. “The next trial is at dusk. If it is vengeance you wish, there will be opportunities for you to take it then.”

Elder Jacobs held his gaze for one second . . . two . . . three. Then he turned and walked back to Imogen’s body. Everything inside Andreus ached for her. He wanted to kneel on the stone beside her and gather her body in his arms—to warm her against the cold wind and the flakes of snow starting to drift down from the sky.

But it was getting harder and harder to pull in air. His left arm tingled. The attack was worsening.

Elder Cestrum would see it.

Andreus would lose the throne and the chance to see his sister pay for what she had taken from him.

So, he forced himself to turn his back on Imogen’s body, nodded for Max to follow, then retraced his steps—each harder to take than the last—to the stairs leading down into the castle. Pressure built in his chest. When he reached the staircase, he took several steps down to make sure he was out of view before leaning his head against the cold wall. Tears swelled, pushing against his throat. He pounded his fist against the wall as his heart strained harder to burst free.

“Prince Andreus? Are you okay?”

No. The attack was getting worse. And while he trusted Max’s loyalty, he couldn’t let the boy see him struggle.

“Sir, you look unwell. Maybe you should sit?”

Andreus pushed away from the wall and told Max, “I’m fine, just upset.” His ears rang. He took a step forward—

—then everything went black.

Max’s face swam before him. The boy’s fear-filled eyes widened as he saw Andreus move. Immediately the boy rushed to help Andreus get to a sitting position.

“Your Highness, are you all right? I wanted to get Madame Jillian, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

It was then Andreus saw the small knife in Max’s hand and the alcove he was currently sprawled in. He couldn’t have been out for more than a moment, but the boy had pulled him into the protected space and was prepared to defend him against any attackers.

Andreus ruffled Max’s hair. This boy was special. His soul was made of the seven virtues and Andreus had to protect it—had to see threats coming and head them off the way his sister—

The way he couldn’t for Imogen.

She would want him to take care of the boy. He owed her that.

“Max, there’s something I have to tell you. Until the Trials are over, it is better for anyone close to me to stay out of sight. Once I win the throne, everything will be back to normal. Do you understand?”

Max bobbed his head. “Yes, I—”

“Good. Now, go.”

Max bowed, started down the stairs, then turned back. “I don’t want to work on the windmills no more.” With that he darted off.

Andreus put his hand on the wall and took deep, even breaths to try to slow his heart rate and encourage the attack to ease. He took the steps at a slow pace as the straining muscle pounded . . . but not as hard. The attack was easing. As long as he rested, he could encourage it to fade entirely.

The desire to storm through the castle, find his sister, and wrap his hands around her throat was strong. He could taste the need for vengeance. But he forced himself to walk slowly and to breathe with deeper and deeper breaths even as his frustration over the deliberate pace simmered.

His chest still ached, but breathing no longer set his chest on fire by the time he stepped into his hallway. He looked at his door, then strode down the hall past the guard standing watch and pounded on the entrance to his sister’s rooms.