It hurt to think.
She didn’t want to think. The emptiness was swallowing her whole. There was only one escape. She didn’t care what the price was anymore.
Fingers shaking, Carys uncorked the bottle and put it to her lips. The bitterness filled her mouth as she drank deep of the potent brew that had held her prisoner to the dark for years.
So aptly named, she thought. Tears of Midnight—when the night was darkest and the pain too great to bear. When there was no light.
To hell with the light, she thought as the throbbing in her back dulled. The ache in her heart numbed and everything inside her went warm and fluid and the emptiness grew farther and farther away.
Carys dropped the red bottle. It shattered on the ground and she smiled as the weight of the emptiness inside her faded. She welcomed the darkness. And embraced the abyss.
6
Andreus looked at Imogen’s tear-streaked face and couldn’t squelch the ever-present desire to protect her. Long dark hair. Deep-set eyes that looked away from him each time he turned her way.
Now those eyes were filled with tears and her hands trembled as she stood in front of Andreus begging his forgiveness for her failure.
He took a deep breath and pushed aside the weakness he still felt after his attack.
Cursed.
Maybe he was.
For years he’d tried to deny it. Despite his sister and his mother working hard to hide his secret, he’d wanted to believe it wasn’t real. Seers and their claims to read the future in the stars and call the winds weren’t real. He’d studied the winds and the histories of the weather. He worked with the tools that captured them and powered the lights Eden depended on.
But today . . . when he lay in the alcove with his hand pressed to the gash on his forehead where he’d struck the wall as he fell, he wondered if the curse wasn’t real. Thanks to his sister and the remedy, his body withstood the attack without anyone the wiser. His sister would need him once the punishment she took for him was over. He should tell Imogen whatever he needed to in order to get her to leave so he could go to Carys.
But looking at Imogen’s eyes shimmering with guilt, he couldn’t bring himself to escort her out the door.
“I tried to see the Queen, to explain that the stars shielded this from me, but her chamberlain told me she’d taken to her bed and could not be disturbed. And your sister is . . . busy. So I came to you.”
“I doubt my mother would have been good company, Lady Imogen.” She had probably already downed several cups of her infamous tea, which helped tamp down her temper, but in large doses loosened her tongue. “She doesn’t deal with loss well.”
“She was right to blame me.” Imogen walked across the room to stare out the window at the mountain range beyond the plateau.
“You are not responsible for my father and brother’s deaths,” he said, crossing the room to stand at her side.
“I failed to keep my betrothed safe.”
“It was the King’s Guard’s job to ensure their safety.”
“It was mine as well. And I failed. I so badly wanted to do what was right for the kingdom. I tried to follow what I believed was right. But I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” Andreus said. While he might not believe in the power she claimed to have, he did understand guilt. “I wish I could have changed things, too. I could have ridden to the battlefields with my father and Micah. Maybe if I had, I would have seen the attackers approach. I could have helped them.”
Imogen walked to him. The silk of her skirts rustled. She reached out to touch him, then just before she did pulled her fingers back. Quietly, she said, “There is nothing you could have done that a hundred and fifty men surrounding them did not try. But if I had not trusted the Guild or the vision I had telling me this would be my home, I would never have come to the Palace of Winds. Your brother and the King would not have placed their faith in me.
“I wanted to believe the vision that I belonged somewhere. That I didn’t have a home as a child because my true home was waiting for me to arrive. I was foolish and Micah should have let the Council and the King replace me as seer. If he hadn’t intervened—”
“Wait a minute.” Andreus stopped her. “My father and the Council wanted to remove you as seer?”
Seer of Eden wasn’t a job that someone just walked away from. The oath the seer took was for life.
“I didn’t mean to say that, Your Highness. Micah said no one was to know. I am just upset and saying things I shouldn’t. Everything will work out as it should.” Imogen dropped her gaze to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself. “You should visit your sister. The Princess shouldn’t be alone now.”
No. Carys shouldn’t be alone. Not tonight. Not after losing half their family and having to be punished for saving him. She should see for herself that she had succeeded and that he was okay. He owed her that. But what Imogen was talking about . . . a removal of a seer only happened upon the seer’s death—whether by natural causes or ordered by the king.
“My sister is a strong woman. She knows where to find me if she needs me. If you need help, let me help you.”
“Prince Micah said . . .”
“Prince Micah is gone.” Andreus took a step forward. He put a hand under Imogen’s chin and tilted her face up. “He can’t protect you.” Not that Micah was ever interested in protecting his betrothed. To Andreus’s eye, Imogen was just a means to an end. “But together we might be able to find a way to keep you safe. But you have to tell me what has happened that I don’t know about.”
She held her breath and studied him for a heartbeat. Two.
He saw the memory of that one night on the battlements in her eyes. For weeks, Andreus joined the shy, slight seeress there to help her understand the new windmill designs and the lines that carried their power to the lights on the castle and into the city below. At first her questions had been hesitant, but day after day her voice grew stronger and her words more confident. At least, with him. Andreus loved watching her come alive. He’d enjoyed seeing the smile that only seemed to appear when he came near and he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and keep her safe when she spoke of the family she’d lost when she was five. She’d talked to him quietly of how she wanted the Palace of Winds to be the home she’d never had, and Andreus recognized the same desire that he had experienced his entire life. The longing for utter safety.
Her beauty. Her passion for the wind. Her need for protection stirred him.