Eyeing the guards stationed in the next hallway, Carys slipped down one of the narrow servants’ corridors her brother favored, where wind-powered lights never glowed and the guard never bothered to stand. After all, why protect servants who couldn’t offer rewards when there were lords and ladies with jewels and gold just waiting to be thankful?
Quickly, Carys made her way down torch-lined halls and up narrow, uneven steps to the doorway that opened nearest to her rooms. She felt a jolt of surprise followed by worry when she spotted Larkin hovering outside her door. Her friend had a pile of fabric draped over one arm and Goodman Marcus’s leather tailor satchel hanging from her shoulder.
The minute Larkin spotted her, Carys’s friend burst into tears.
“Quiet,” Carys hissed, looking past Larkin and hoping the guards who were typically stationed just beyond the doorway didn’t hear.
Too late.
She spotted the face of the same guard who had escorted her to the North Tower peer down the hall as she hurried Larkin inside her chamber. Another potential problem.
Throwing the bolt on the door, she ordered, “Don’t cry. I can’t afford to grieve.” Larkin’s sympathy would shatter her. Sadness would pull her under and make her never want to surface. Even now the red bottle called to her, compelling her toward oblivion. She had to be careful to only take enough to keep away the symptoms of withdrawal. The nervous energy and anxiety it caused in small doses was far better than giving in to the nothingness that she desperately wanted. Instead, she’d focus on anger. It felt stronger. Hotter. Sharper. Anger would help her keep the siren’s pull of the drug at bay.
Larkin sniffled. Her face tensed and turned several shades of red, but after a minute or two the tears stopped. Her friend took a deep breath and in a still-shaky voice said, “I know I could have waited to bring the dresses tomorrow, but I was in the streets when you came back from the funeral procession. I heard the Queen and saw her face . . . ” Tears brimmed over and streaked down Larkin’s cheeks and she handed the dresses to Juliette, who had appeared at her side. When she turned back the tears were gone. “The city is swirling with rumors, none of which I can believe are true. But after I heard them, I had to make sure you were okay.”
“You can see I’m fine. Andreus is, too, but you shouldn’t be here.”
“I want to help,” Larkin said fiercely. “The rumors say the Bastians gave your mother a drug that drove her mad and that they have a force marching on the city to seize the throne from you and your brother. Others are saying the Queen is only pretending to be mad in order to make the Council of Elders think they can control the throne and that she’s planning on poisoning them all in their beds.”
Not the worst idea Carys had heard.
“The Queen is being tended to by her chamberlain and the castle’s healers.” At least, that’s what Carys assumed was happening. While she was worried about her mother, she knew Andreus, the Trials, and the threats made by the Council of Elders had to come first. “Her illness has made it impossible for her to rule. Since Andreus and I are twins, there is to be a competition of sorts to decide who will be the next to take the throne.”
“What kind of competition?”
“That’s up to the Council,” Carys explained. “And I don’t want you involved with any of this. Go back to your father and tell him that you want to leave the city to travel to your new home tonight.”
“Father will never agree—”
Carys grabbed her friend’s shoulders. “Then you will make him. Tell him I ordered you to leave. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if there is a struggle for the throne or if the rumors about the Bastians taking advantage of my father and Micah’s deaths are true, there will be more trouble coming to Garden City. I will rest easier knowing that you are safe away from it all and that soon you’ll be wed and happy.”
It hurt to say the words, but Larkin wouldn’t be safe if she stayed.
“You are my best friend. You are part of my heart—the best part. Promise me,” Carys demanded. “Promise you’ll return home, pack up, and leave as soon as possible. Tell your father to stay with you until you get word from me that it is safe to return.”
Larkin looked down and sighed. “I promise, Your Highness.” When she tilted her face up, Larkin’s tears flowed once again. They streamed down her face as she struggled to find composure and lost.
Heat pricked the back of Carys’s eyes as she yanked her friend into a tight hug. When she pulled back, she steered Larkin toward the door and opened it before she herself started to cry. She was going to lose Larkin to marriage anyway, but losing her now after so much . . . It hurt so much worse. “May the winds guide you, my friend,” she said, taking Larkin’s hand. “I want you to find happiness.” For both of us.
She willed herself to let go of Larkin, then shut the door. The click of the latch made her heart ache, and Carys slid her hand into the pocket of her cloak and closed it around the red bottle.
Gods, she wanted a sip. But it was too soon. There was too much at stake to lose control. She had to change, get her things ready, and meet her brother without anyone seeing.
She considered dismissing her maid. Juliette had proved trustworthy over the last few years, but that was before information on Carys’s actions had become such a highly valuable commodity. Still, Carys wasn’t sure she had a choice.
“Help me out of these clothes. Then assist me into the rust dress that was just delivered,” she said, knowing Juliette would expect Carys to get ready for bed instead of for another outing. If the maid had any questions about the instructions, she held her tongue as she helped Carys into the gown and did up the laces tight enough to keep the dress in place but not so tight that they irritated her still-healing wounds.
Reaching into the cloak pocket, she slid the red bottle out, then said, “Now, take these clothes to the smoke pits and burn them.”
“Excuse me, Your Highness?” Juliette said, folding the funeral dress over her arm.
“Today was miserable,” Carys said, walking to a small table where tea, fruit, and cheese were waiting for her. She placed the bottle on the table. “I would prefer not to keep any reminders.”
When Juliette had gathered the discarded garments and hurried toward the door, Carys added, “Juliette, I wouldn’t blame you if you had trouble juggling those and dropped them near the guards at the end of the hall. The cloak in particular is thick and bulky if not carried carefully.”
Juliette met Carys’s eyes and nodded. “I did notice that it’s not particularly easy to carry, Your Highness. I will take care to make sure it doesn’t cause too many problems when I take it down to the smoke pits. I’ll be back later to see if there are any other items from today you wish me to dispose of.”
Carys smiled at her maid’s acknowledgment of the task Carys wished her to carry out. “I appreciate your loyalty, Juliette. If ever you feel conflicted about that dedication, I hope you’ll let me know so I can assuage your concerns.”