Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(83)

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ordered herself to try again.

Swallowing hard, she shifted her weight and leaned toward her brother again. The snow fell. The air was still as she held her breath and tried to reach the rope that was keeping her brother from continuing his climb. “Can you move?” she yelled.

“What?” he yelled back.

“Kick your foot away from the ladder so I can cut the rope that’s holding you.”

He looked down at her for a long second, then gave a slow nod as she braved leaning a little farther. Her arms shook. Sweat streamed down her back as she shivered and told herself not to worry. She could do this. She’d get her brother free and make it the next twelve feet to the plateau’s surface.

Andreus kicked his foot away from the rope and the ladder began to sway.

“Again,” she yelled, judging the distance and the angle like she would a target she wanted to hit with her blade. Andreus followed her command. The movement sent the ladder an inch closer to her. Then another as it swayed on the wall.

Carys could hear the gasps from the crowd. Her heart pounded as the coarse hemp dug through the fabric of her tunic and into her arm, which was beginning to weaken more. If she didn’t want to fall, she needed both hands to hold on.

She judged the sway of the ladder as Andreus kicked his boot again and slashed with her blade knowing it was the only shot she had.

The blade caught the rope, but not enough. It was still attached to Andreus’s boot as she grabbed her own ladder and hung on for dear life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother kick again, trying to break the rope’s hold on him. She heard him shout something. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw his boot a second before it slammed against her hand.

She let go.

The stiletto dropped from her hand.

Her feet slipped and suddenly there was nothing beneath her.

She dangled from the rope by her forearm and desperately reached for a rung with her left hand when another blow struck the side of her head.

Pain swirled. Lights flared behind her eyes and her forearm slid down . . . then free.

A scream clawed her throat as she fell. The air around her swirled harder, then harder still, pushing her toward the wall—toward the ladder—as her fingers tried to grab hold of something. Anything.

The crowd below jeered.

Her hand latched onto a rung, jerking her arm, stopping her descent before her fingers slipped again.

Only this time she didn’t fall. The wind swirled under her feet—keeping her from falling long enough for her to grab the rungs one more time and find the loops with her feet.

All at once, the wind stilled completely, as though it had been sucked into the windmills. She willed herself to hang on for the next rung. And the next. And one more, until finally, she crumpled into the snow on the ground.

Everything inside her clenched and screamed and pulled and trembled as she tried to rise but couldn’t. Not even when she heard her brother step from his ladder. Not even when she heard him whisper that next time she wouldn’t get so lucky.

She heard Lord Errik calling to her—asking if she was okay. Garret crouched in the snow a few feet away and held out his hand and she shook her head.

No. She had to get up on her own. The people had seen her fall. They would see her rise. She would show them—show her brother—that she would always get back up as she promised. She needed them to see it so they would remember.

Placing her scraped, raw hands into the snow, she pushed slowly to her knees. Then, using the ladder, she pulled herself to her feet and sound exploded around her.

Blue banners waved against the snow and the darkening sky. People cheered and stomped and called her name.

Her brother’s eyes burned as Elder Cestrum pointed up to the scoring board on the wall where two blue pegs were being lowered in. Behind the board, atop the highest tower, the orb of Eden glowed bright.

Trumpets sounded and the people fell silent as Elder Cestrum stepped forward and announced, “The trial of strength is complete with Princess Carys as our winner. While I am sure they are tired and would like to rest, monarchs often do not have a chance to rest in between decisions that must be made. Duty always calls and they must have endurance to answer that call. Tonight, Prince Andreus and Princess Carys will demonstrate that endurance. For this trial, they must travel to the Majestic Tomb of Eden. The Council has hidden the crown of virtue in the tomb. The one who finds the crown and safely returns to the castle will win. Your attendants have prepared your horses. Good luck to you both because this trial begins now.”

Now.

Tears slipped down Carys’s face.

The crowd shouted their encouragement as Andreus raced toward the large staircase.

Carys could barely take a step. Her head pounded. Her arms throbbed. And she was cold. So very cold as she willed one foot in front of the other—as fast as she dared.

The wind began anew. It pulled at the strands of her hair, which had come free from its binding as she squinted down to the bottom, where her brother was already mounting his horse. She couldn’t beat him in this challenge. She wasn’t sure she’d even be able to survive it.

The cold.

The pain.

The way her legs trembled beneath her, telling her no matter how much she willed them she would soon no longer be able to stand.

The darkness and the mountains where the Xhelozi hunted.