“Of course not.” She laughed. “It was loyalty to your fallen king that made you ride your horse into the ground to get here so quickly.”
“It was loyalty to you.” Garret reached out and grabbed her arm. She pulled back, but he held fast and stepped close as he said, “I am not your enemy, Your Highness. You are the reason I left the Palace of Winds in the first place, and whether you choose to believe it or not, you are the reason I have returned.”
The sound of stringed instruments drifted down the hallway. The ball was beginning. “If you think I will let you use me in order to climb the steps to the throne, you are sadly mistaken, Lord Garret.”
“You will find, Your Highness, that I am the only person in Eden who has no interest in using you for personal gain.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “Unlike my uncle and your father and Micah, I understand how important you are.”
“Because I might become Queen.”
Garret studied her for several heartbeats. “You still don’t know you are so much more.”
He let go of her arm, but she could still feel the heat of his touch as he stepped back and began walking down the hallway. “The ball will be starting and your guests are waiting, Your Highness. I need to deliver you safely to the Hall of Virtues.”
She hurried to catch up with him and spotted her brother in the antechamber that the royal family used during formal occasions to wait for their entrance to the Hall.
“I must leave you here,” Garret said, not crossing the threshold of the antechamber. “May the winds guide you until we speak again, Princess.”
With a bow he turned on his heel and disappeared out the door.
Once she was certain Garret had truly gone, she turned to her brother. Andreus was eyeing her with suspicion. “Lord Garret was sent by his uncle to escort me here. He is trying to make me believe he has no interest in the throne.”
“And do you believe it?”
“Of course not,” she said. But there had been something in the way that he spoke that made her wonder if there was more to his purpose. “But there might be value in making him think I do.”
Father always said to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, mainly so that they couldn’t see the dagger until it slid into their gut. “It couldn’t hurt for you to appear to be friendly with him as well,” she suggested. “Elder Cestrum might start questioning whether Garret has changed allegiances, and sowing uncertainty in the Council can only help us get through these Trials and secure the throne.”
“You mean help me secure the throne.”
“Of course.” Carys frowned at the way Andreus stood looking at her. His posture was stiff, formal. She sensed doubt. “Do you think I have changed my mind about wanting you on the throne? Andreus, it’s not my fault you didn’t get all three points today. I had to defend you.”
“I know,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m sorry. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have to worry about the Trials or the throne. I’d be in my grave instead. I’m having a hard time thinking about that or the man who . . . tried to kill me.”
“But he didn’t kill you,” Carys said, squeezing his hand. “And tonight you will charm everyone at the ball and win whatever contest we are given.” He looked handsome in his gold-and-black doublet. With his shining dark hair and sword at his side, he looked as if he stepped out of a storyteller’s tale.
“You’re right,” he said with a small smile. “I have to concentrate on tonight. We both do.” He dropped her hand and stepped back to look at her. “You certainly look lovely. That dress isn’t your typical style. Who made it?”
She glanced down at the dress and back at her brother, who was eyeing her with an intensity that made her shiver. “Why do you ask?” The only interest her brother ever displayed in women’s attire was assessing how quickly he could get ladies out of it.
“I’m sure the seamstress will be in great demand after tonight. I am certain people will want to seek her out. I might even want to have a conversation with her myself.”
Her brother’s words set her on edge. “Andreus, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I know you.” Almost as well as she knew herself. “There is something bothering you. If it is Lord Garret, I promise you—”
Trumpets blared. A page appeared in the doorway and bowed. “The Council of Elders has asked me to bid Your Highnesses to join them in the Hall of Virtues.”
“Very well,” her brother said, offering Carys his arm. “Shall we?”
Her stomach tightened at Andreus’s tense smile as she placed her hand on his arm and walked with him at the measured pace their mother long ago taught them was appropriate for ceremonies. They crossed through the corridor and reached the white stone arch and massive gold doors that led to the Palace of Winds’ throne room. The trumpets sounded again, the guards pushed open the doors, and Carys and her brother started forward.
Every face turned toward them and everything went silent as she and Andreus strode into the room. They’d walked this path together at formal events dozens of times in their lives. Always they had entered before their brother Micah and their mother and father—side by side—together. Then they had been the opening gambit. The ones who announced more important, more powerful members of the family were on the way. The court used to pause for them before they continued whatever they were doing. Now everyone was completely still as they once again walked shoulder to shoulder into the spectacularly lit hall.
Orbs of colored lights were everywhere. Hanging from the ceiling. Attached to the pillars. On the wall behind the dais. And the throne was lit in a way that made it appear as though it glowed with the power of the sun. Carys glanced at her brother. His eyes stared at the throne as if mesmerized by its beauty.
She couldn’t remember seeing the throne ever look so beautiful—perhaps because she was used to seeing her father sitting there. Maybe that was what made Andreus watch it with such intensity now. Maybe he too was feeling the pull of memories that clawed at her heart.
Pushing away the mental picture of her father, Carys looked around the Hall as Andreus led her through the crowd to the dais. A group of entertainers stood off to the left. Some held musical instruments. Others were carrying flaming torches they would no doubt juggle and perhaps swallow to the delight of the nobles. But now, all was still. The hundreds in attendance were dressed in the finest silks of every color of the rainbow. Carys was used to seeing judgment in their eyes. Never good enough. Never beautiful enough. Never adhering to tradition in the way they believed she should.
They judged her for her lack of care in their frivolous pageantry. And she judged them right back for their investment in it.
Now, though. Now, she sensed something different.
Each member of the court wore bands of colored fabric, tied around their arms, or wrists, or pinned to their lapels.