Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(87)

“The Prince needs a healer,” the Chief Elder yelled as he took the crown from Andreus’s hands. “Captain Monteros, have your men get a stretcher to bring him to the castle.”

The guards arrived. Carefully, they helped him onto the stretcher. As they ascended the steps to the castle, Andreus kept his eyes on the scoring board and watched as a yellow peg was added to the board.

He had won.

He was the King of Eden.

Madame Jillian was at the top of the steps when he arrived. She ordered him carried to his rooms so she could treat the leg, which had gone numb. Then it burned as she drained the wound. She gave him what she could for the pain and sent someone to the Queen’s rooms for Tears of Midnight to dull the rest.

Andreus laughed. It wasn’t funny, but he couldn’t stop laughing even when the healer wrapped the wound and warned him the leg might never be the same again.

Then the gongs sounded and his laughter stopped.

Carys was back.

That couldn’t be. He had heard her cry out. The Xhelozi. She couldn’t have survived.

The healer tried to push him down, but he forced himself to his feet and ordered his valet to bring him his cloak.

Two members of the guard helped him limp to the courtyard. His heart pounded harder with every painful step and his chest tightened. Still he urged them to go faster until they reached the courtyard. Moments later Lord Errik appeared in the entrance of the gates with what must be Carys in his arms. Even in the bright wind-powered light it was impossible to tell.

Her clothes were in tatters and there was blood. So much blood. But the hair—almost completely white in this light—was unmistakable.

Elder Ulrich followed behind Lord Errik, telling him to slow down.

“No,” Lord Errik yelled, cradling Carys’s disfigured body close to him as he ran. “She was still breathing. There could still be time. Send for a healer.”

The Elders asked everyone to assemble in the Hall of Virtues to wait, but as they all turned toward the castle door, Lord Errik returned. Anger and blood colored his face. Andreus held his breath as he waited to hear the words that would end this.

The wind gusted, making it almost impossible to hear the words that Andreus had been waiting for.

“You are too late! Princess Carys is dead.”

Pain flared again. Andreus’s legs trembled under his weight. He limped back to his rooms before he passed out. All the while, the castle shook as the people rang the air with four words.

Long live the King.





21


“I have to see her,” Andreus said, trying to stand.

Light streamed through the curtains of his bedchamber. The seven members of the Council of Elders stood at the foot of his bed.

“You need to let me put this splint on your leg,” Madame Jillian said, holding out what looked like a small circular cage. “The poison from these cuts is still festering. The numbness and lack of muscle control might never fully fade.”

“When will I be free of this contraption?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Then who does?” he demanded. “Kings must stand on their own two feet!”

“No one I have treated ever fought the Xhelozi and lived, Your Highness.” Madame Jillian bowed. “But I am working on a solution.”

The only man she knew to fight the beasts outside the walls and survive. Andreus smiled in satisfaction. The Elders had heard. They knew now the kind of king they would be dealing with. Soon, songs would be written about the strength of King Andreus who single-handedly faced down the Xhelozi.

Elder Cestrum cleared his throat. “The Council of Elders has arranged for your coronation to occur tonight. There are decisions about the war that need to be made and can only be made by our King.”

Andreus rose from his bed and Elder Jacobs offered to accompany him on his walk to his sister’s door. “I must warn you,” the Elder said softly. “The Xhelozi were not as kind to your sister as they were to you. The Princess suffered.”

Screams echoed in his memory as he opened the door.

Her body lay on the bed. Andreus took one step into the room and froze.

Her face was gone. Someone had smoothed and brushed his sister’s white blond hair around the series of gashes and scrapes crusted with blood and gore. In one place, the cut went so deep Andreus was certain he could see bone.

His stomach lurched and Andreus grabbed the doorframe for support as his legs threatened to give way.

His sister was dead.

Her screams clawed through his mind.

“Would you like a moment alone?” Elder Jacobs asked.

“No.” He stepped back from the bedroom and shut the door, but the screams continued. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Don’t feel bad, Your Highness,” Elder Jacobs said, taking Andreus’s arm. “Your mother had a hard time seeing your sister as well.”

“My mother was here? How is she?”

“She seemed much improved.”

He thought of their mother’s attempt to get to the mountains when she first lost her mind. Perhaps he was not haunted. Perhaps hers were the screams that had met his ears. “Did she cry out when she saw Carys?”

“No,” Elder Jacobs said with a frown. “She laughed.”