Guard members fell in step in front and behind Carys and the Chief Elder as they swept through the halls to the courtyard. Her father would have seen the buildings go dark as he approached Garden City. He would have questions that he wanted answered, and with little time to prepare, Carys realized there was only one way to explain someone finding the flaw in the system without Andreus being blamed. She would confess to telling someone of her brother’s finding and take whatever punishment her father chose to dole out. After years of being punished for her obstinacy, her lack of understanding, or her sharp tongue, she knew it would be severe. But she would survive it. She always had and always would as long as it kept her brother’s secret safe.
Framing the words in her head, she stepped into the courtyard behind Elder Cestrum and strode down the lantern-lit white stone path to the gate of the Palace of Winds. They arrived just as a group of men climbed the final steps that led onto the plateau of the castle. The sound of the windmills pulsed. The men staggered forward under the fatigue of their trip and the soiled, heavy sacks they were carrying.
One fell to his knees, dumping his sack to the ground in front of him.
No. That wasn’t a sack.
Carys raced forward. She heard someone yell her name. Hands tried to hold her back, but she shoved the man trying to shield her out of her way. There was no hiding from this truth. No hiding from the dirt-streaked material that she now realized was stitched with the crests of Eden.
Something inside her cracked and she dropped to her knees. Her stomach clenched. Everything trembled as she reached out and rolled over the body that had been dumped on the steps.
Memories flooded her. A deep voice telling stories about the War of Knowledge. A man larger than life on a throne of sapphire and gold. Hands that calmed her when she was small and scared in the dead of winter, terrified the Xhelozi would hurt them all. Amber eyes, so like hers, that she hoped one day to see approval in. Eyes that would never open again.
Carys couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Tears burned her eyes, her throat. She couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone. Her father wouldn’t allow that kind of weakness. He wouldn’t forgive. He wouldn’t . . .
Something was set on the ground next to her father. She blinked to clear her eyes and felt the wall holding the tears back crumble as the light her twin had helped restore shone on the bloody, waxen face.
Wind whipped her hair.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she touched her older brother’s icy hand.
The orb shone bright, but darkness had come to Eden and Carys didn’t know if there was any light that could chase this kind of darkness away.
4
Unless he had gotten himself into trouble for mouthing off while serving the ladies of court, the boy had to be around here somewhere. Andreus nodded to a Master ordering apprentices to put away their tools and headed toward the back of the battlements.
He started to duck into the base of one of the windmills when he heard Max’s voice call, “Prince Andreus. Did you see? Everything in the castle went dark and all the ladies started screaming. No one knew how to find candles or that they should stand still so they don’t crash into things in the dark.”
No. Andreus doubted they would.
“I’m betting you didn’t crash into any walls getting up here.”
Max straightened his shoulders despite how hard he shivered as the wind once again began to gain in strength. “Not once, Your Highness. And I came here because that’s what you said I should do if ever there was an attack and the lights went out.”
Andreus had forgotten he’d told Max that the safest place in an attack would be the battlements. The four-story white wall on top of the plateau made it the safest and most secure castle in Eden and in any of the kingdoms beyond the mountains or the waters.
“I heard the apprentices say you were the one who fixed the lights.”
Andreus smiled at the admiration in the boy’s eyes. “The Masters worked on it, too, but yes,” he admitted. “I was the one who found the problem first and figured out how to rework the wires to get the lights on again.”
“I knew it. How did you do it in the dark? Did you—”
“We can talk about that some other time.” Andreus put a hand on Max’s shoulder and steered him toward the stairs down into the castle. “Now, I’m going to ask you some questions while I walk you to your bed.”
Andreus picked up the pace as several members of the guard and a few servants stopped and bowed when he passed. If his sister was right about the test and the sabotage on the lights occurring on the same day not being a coincidence, he didn’t want anyone to overhear him discussing it with Max.
“Did I do something wrong?” Max glanced up at Andreus with fear in his eyes as they reached the first floor. “Did Lady Yasmie . . .”
What had the boy to do with Lady Yasmie? Whatever it was they’d deal with it later.
“No. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, realizing that Max was struggling to keep up with him. Great. Now Andreus was scaring the boy based on his sister’s paranoia. Slowing he said, “I just have a few questions about people you’ve talked to since coming to live at the castle and whether—”
The clanging of a gong sounded in the wide hallway. When he was little the striking gongs filled him with excitement. Now they made his palms sweat and his stomach clench. “My father has returned.”
“The King?” Max yelped. “I thought he was delayed at the southern battlefields. Does this mean we won the war?”
“We can always hope,” Andreus said, knowing if the war had been won his father would have sent a runner ahead to make sure the army returned to feasts and music and triumph. If only. That alone would have been enough to distract Father from the rest of the Hall of Virtues business for weeks. “Run along to bed. With Father and Micah home, things will be busier for everyone tomorrow. We’ll talk once things have settled down.”
“All right, Your Highness,” Max said with an awkward but enthusiastic bow. Then he turned and bolted down the hallway toward the servants’ quarters and Andreus hurried toward the courtyards that led to the gates of the castle to greet his father and king.
He must have seen the lights go out on his ride. There would be no hiding the event. The best Andreus could hope for was that his father would be content in seeing the problem had been fixed—at least until Andreus figured out who was behind the sabotage and what their reasoning had been.
“Andreus.” His mother’s voice snapped behind him and he turned to watch her, wrapped in a cloak of deep red, striding down the white path. The towering, ever-present Oben was trailing silently behind her.
“Mother, I didn’t expect you to come to the gates or I would have waited for you.” Ever since Andreus could remember, Father insisted on being greeted when the gongs sounded his return, but Mother never once that he could remember followed that decree. Instead, she waited for Father to come find her and to beg forgiveness for leaving her behind at the castle while he went away. Whether she actually missed the King in his absence was debatable, but not as important as the charade that she performed each time he returned.
“Tonight’s mishap with the wind power left me little choice but to defend you and our family from your father’s wrath.”
“I can defend myself.”