As long as no one saw his curse, he would be that winner.
He sent Max down to bed knowing he should go too. But he couldn’t make himself leave the walls as he watched proof of the contest to come brought into existence.
Imogen was wrong to question whether he could trust Carys. His sister hated these walls. There was no way she would want to doom herself to spending the rest of her life behind them. And yet he couldn’t forget her hesitation when he asked whether she wanted the throne. Her reaction played over and over in his head as the wind pulled at his clothes and the pounding of the hammers ticked off the seconds that were pushing him toward tomorrow and the unknown Trials that would decide their fate.
11
Yellow and blue flags fluttered high over the tournament field. Sunshine bathed the day and the wind was gentle, making the temperature warm for this time of year. Carys turned and looked back at the pure white walls of the castle that now had a large wooden board hanging high above the main entrance. Everyone had been whispering about the scoreboard that had been built overnight. Speculation flew as to its purpose and when the people would find out its use.
Soon. Far too soon. Because even with a plan to beat the Council of Elders at its own game, Carys knew how high the stakes were and how great the risks.
She turned back and squinted into the sunlight. Sleep had been hard to find last night. After hours of lying in the dark with her heart pounding and her back throbbing, she’d succumbed to the need for the Tears of Midnight.
First a little.
Then a bit more.
Until finally sleep came.
She’d needed the rest and calm. Andreus was counting on her to be rested today. She’d had no choice. And she’d been careful to take just a small sip of the bitter brew this morning to stave off the effects of withdrawal. As soon as they made it through the Trials, she would stop altogether. This time she would break the hold the red glass bottles had on her.
But not yet. For now, she’d be careful. She’d manage it.
Nala shifted under her and Carys pulled on her horse’s reins as she reached the top of the hill and studied the five acres of tournament grounds set in the lowest point of the valley to the west of the Palace of Winds. The earth sloped up from the tournament field, making the competition area and the viewing grounds around it seem to be in the bottom of a bowl. The location allowed even those who were not on elevated platforms on the sidelines a clear view of the action.
It looked as though everyone from Garden City had shown up to watch the tournament. Events designed for peasants and merchants had started hours ago. People turned and waved as they noticed the parade of nobility arrive, signaling the next phase of the tournament when the most skilled members of the guard would compete. A louder cheer went up as they spotted Carys and her brother and the entourage of lords and ladies spread out behind them.
Everywhere she heard shouts of “Princess Carys” and “Prince Andreus.”
Her stomach clenched as she looked up and met her brother’s hazel eyes.
So many people. So much that could go wrong.
Within the fenced boundary of the tournament grounds Carys spotted younger members of the guard, and those who aspired to gain the notice of Captain Monteros and join the rank of the King’s Guard, charging their horses down the list field in an effort to unseat and defeat their foes.
Far in the distance, past the lists, were the wrestling grounds and men swinging quarterstaffs, as well as an unusual-looking area that Carys could only assume was being used for footraces and maybe some kind of dueling. Closer to this end of the grounds where they were riding, men—and here and there a few women—were standing ready to test their aim at a row of archery targets.
On the southern edge of the tournament field, three viewing platforms had been erected. A blue canopy hung over the one to the left. A yellow canopy hung over the platform to the right. The center canopy was white and had the blue-and-yellow flag of Eden flying high above it.
Elder Cestrum pulled his horse in between Carys’s and her brother’s chestnut one.
“Princess Carys, you will be seated under the blue canopy. Prince Andreus, you will take the yellow one. I hope you will both do your best to honor the virtues today and do take care.” He smoothed his white beard. “After losing your father and your brother, and after what happened to your mother, the kingdom couldn’t bear another unfortunate circumstance.”
Elder Cestrum snapped his reins, held tight in his clawed hand, and started forward down the sloping hill toward the viewing platforms at the back of the tournament grounds.
“Are you ready?” Andreus asked, pulling his chestnut stallion up next to hers.
Carys wished she could ask him how he was feeling, but she spotted Elder Jacobs watching them. The Elder had a black falcon resting on his gloved hand. The bird was unhooded and Carys knew it was just waiting for the Elder’s command to attack. Elder Jacobs had never lifted a sword in a tournament. Instead, he let the bird he trained cause pain to others for him. She spotted Elder Ulrich, watching the bird—disdain pouring from his one good eye. Riding next to Ulrich was an elegant-looking, olive-skinned young man around her age who seemed vaguely familiar. He had a narrow, sculpted face and dark wavy hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders. But it was the seemingly careless command of his horse as he steered it around several children who came racing out of the crowd that struck a chord in her memory. This was the man responsible for catching her mother when she attempted to race back to the mountains. The unfamiliar crest on his cloak announced him as one of the foreign dignitaries who had come for the funeral and coronation.
The foreigner listened to whatever Elder Ulrich was saying, but he was watching her intently. Just as Elder Jacobs and his falcon were.
So instead of offering her support to her brother as she wished to, she straightened her shoulders and said, “I’m looking forward to winning, brother.” And nudged her horse down the slope of the hill to whatever the Council of Elders had waiting for them.
Children waved and ran after her and her brother as their horses cantered past. Loud cheers shook the earth from those standing twenty or more deep around the tournament fences. Vendors darted around, selling strips of blue and yellow fabric, the colors of Eden’s flag. But instead of being combined they were separate. Divided. Like the two platforms she and Andreus would stand upon.
Blue for her. Yellow for her brother.