Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)(89)

But the curse was not evil—not like she had thought.

It was power.

Carys heard the wind, and the wind heard her.

She could call it to her aid.

She had done so on the battlements against Imogen. It had saved her on the wall.

And it had driven back the Xhelozi when they surrounded her on all sides.

Now there was nothing standing in the way of Carys’s power. Nothing except Carys herself.

A few days. A few weeks. The pain of the withdrawal would stop. She would be stronger. She’d learn to focus her power, figure out who was trying to steal the crown and she would return here to the Palace of Winds—where she now knew she belonged.

“Do you still believe you need to speak with Lord Garret? If so, you should let me bring him here to you.” Errik knelt next to her.

“No,” she said, forcing herself to stand. Dust swirled in the small room. “I will handle Garret myself. There is something else that I need you to do.”

Andreus stood in the Hall of Virtues’ antechamber where he and Carys had waited before their entrance to the ball. Now three days later, he was to wear the crown. His first command would be to take the scoring board down from the walls. He didn’t want anyone to remember his sister had even had a claim to the throne. He had won. He was the King.

He paced across the small room to practice walking with the black iron contraption Madame Jillian had affixed to his leg. The rods were heavy and felt awkward, but now when he walked into the throne room, he would be doing so without any assistance.

Alone.

His chest tightened.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty.” Max pushed aside the curtain and took a hesitant step inside. The boy was dressed in a hastily altered velvet tunic of yellow and blue and was to be given new rooms to go along with his new status as king’s squire. He should have been delighted, but Max still showed fear in his eyes around Andreus.

It would fade, he told himself. Just as the ache Andreus felt for Imogen would disappear—just as, weeks from now, he would no longer remember Carys’s screams.

Max shuffled his feet. “I am s’posed to tell you that the coronation is about to begin.” Then with an off-balance bow, he darted back through the curtain to take his place near the front.

The trumpets sounded.

Andreus’s heart thumped.

The curtains parted.

The tightening in his chest grew.

He took a deep breath and walked slowly through the high-arching entrance of the Hall as everyone—the court, the visiting dignitaries, and the Council of Elders—stood. He limped down the center aisle and those who watched dropped into low bows and curtsies. Elder Cestrum stood to the left of the throne. Andreus tried not to look at the empty space on the right where the Seer of Eden should have stood. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the crown. It sat glittering on the throne—waiting for him.

Elder Cestrum placed the polished crown on his head. It was heavy and dug into his scalp. He straightened his shoulders to appear triumphant, but couldn’t help but picture the crown as it looked when he first handed it to the Elder—stained with blood.

One by one the Elders knelt before him to offer him their oaths of fealty, followed by the High Lords, Captain Monteros, and the members of the court. The names and faces ran together, but the lack of one stood out to him.

Elder Cestrum’s choice for King. Lord Garret.

Carys slipped out of the shadows as Lord Garret passed by the alcove in the empty corridor and pressed the point of her stiletto into his back. She dug the tip into his flesh as he reached for his sword—drawing blood to show she was serious.

“I’ll take that.” She slid his sword out of the scabbard as Lord Garret turned his head so out of the corner of his eye he could see her face.

“You—you’re not dead.”

“No. But you might be soon.” She dropped the sword to the ground and kicked it behind her. “Tell me who on the Council is plotting to take the Throne of Light from my brother.”

“Are you looking for allies or enemies?” He shifted so his hazel eyes could meet hers. “Your brother tried to kill you, Highness. We all watched him strike you on the wall.”

“He didn’t succeed.”

“Do you know why?” he asked, his eyes intent on hers. “I do. I know how you stopped your fall because I was there on the battlements when the wind tunnel appeared. I watched your mother’s man strike you on the head at her command and watched as the wind tunnel faded into the sky. And no tunnel has appeared in the sky since your mother gave you the drug that is making it almost impossible for you to stand now.”

She shook her head. That’s not what she had been told. She’d been hit with a piece of the windmill which had been broken and tossed by the wind tunnel. Seer Kheldin had made the wind appear. He had been the one who sent it away.

Garret drew closer. “I’m not your enemy, Princess,” he said. His red hair blew in a sudden draft and he smiled. “You have never believed me, but I wish to help you. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

She lifted her blade as sweat trickled down her face. “Prove it,” she said. “Tell me what the Council is plotting and I’ll let you live.”

“I could do that,” Garret said leaning forward. “But I won’t. At least not yet.”