I look forward to our next dance. Let me know where and when. —Errik
She staggered to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. If anyone else read the note, they would think it was a flirtation instead of a signal. Lord Errik had gotten Larkin safely to the passages and was waiting for Carys to decide the next move.
Why? He was clever and attractive and had no reason to be putting himself on the line to help Carys. Which meant he wasn’t to be trusted. After years of teaching herself not to be close to or to trust any save Andreus and Larkin, Carys found herself helpless to block the desire to lean on him.
Whatever his motives, he had kept Larkin safe. For now. Errik had been right when he said that would only last for so long. Carys had to convince Andreus of Imogen’s treachery. Once he realized the plots against him, Carys should be able to make him understand that Larkin was an innocent fly in Imogen’s—or someone she was allied with’s—web. Because there was more than just Imogen at work here. No matter. She had plotted against their father and brother and arranged their deaths. For that alone, Carys would make her pay.
Holding the flower, Carys lay on the bed. Her eyes were heavy, her body craved rest, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her brain raced. Her heart pounded. The more she tried to sleep, the worse her stomach churned and her muscles tensed.
Her back throbbed as she shifted positions. Just a sip of the Tears would fix everything. The sleeplessness. The aches in her body and her heart. Just one drink.
She tossed and turned and rose from the bed and paced, looking out the window every few minutes, waiting for the sky to lighten—terrified that Andreus would not be on the battlements when she arrived. Even more scared that he would turn away from her if he did come. If so, she wasn’t sure what she would do. The Andreus at the ball was not the one she had known all these years. Or maybe he was. Maybe she didn’t know him the way she thought.
Maybes spun in her head. Every muscle in her tightened. Sweat trickled down her neck as she paced in front of the window and watched the stars shift in the sky. Shadows moved on the mountains. Faint screeches in the distance made Carys pull her arms tightly around herself until the sky finally showed signs of lightening.
She changed into another of Larkin’s creations—this one a deep red. When she swiped a brush through her hair at the mirror, Carys’s white skin next to the color of her dress reminded her of the ball last night. Red against white. Blood against stone.
Wrapping a dark gray cloak around her, Carys spotted the rose on the bedcovers and slipped the flower into one of the pockets of her dress so it rested next to the stiletto. With one hand wrapped around the blade in her pocket, she headed to the battlements to meet her brother.
Or not.
The battlements were empty. Windmills creaked and pulsed and pounded as they churned the air. The orb glowed bright on the eastern tower. Two guards stood near the front of the battlements, looking off in the distance for signs of trouble. They glanced at her but said nothing as she paced the stone walls and waited.
She pulled her cloak closer to ward off the chills going up her spine even though the early morning was still. No breeze blew as she held her breath and looked around the battlements. Once she thought she saw something move in the shadows, but Andreus never appeared.
The dark sky faded to light gray. If her twin was going to come, he would have been here by now. He must not have checked the loose step for the note she had left. She refused to believe that no matter what he had done, or how thirsty he was for the power of the throne, he would ignore a desperate plea for them to meet and discuss who was behind their father’s and brother’s deaths.
Carys decided to check the step to prove he hadn’t received the note. Perhaps he had and had left a reply explaining why he couldn’t come. Carys turned and saw Imogen standing in the doorway of the southern tower. The seeress’s dark hair fluttered around her as she stepped onto the battlements and headed for Carys. As she grew closer, Carys spotted a piece of parchment in Imogen’s hand.
“Good morning, Princess,” Imogen shouted above the thumping of the windmills. “I hope you had a good night. Your brother certainly did. When I left him, he was sleeping soundly, which is why he never had a chance to find the note you left for him. He had actually been thinking of leaving one for you, which is how I knew to look under the step. I’m glad I did or you would be left standing here alone. Is there nothing worse for a lady than to be left waiting for a man? Even if the man is her brother.”
Andreus had told her about the notes. What else had he spoken about? A whip of wind pulled at Carys’s cloak. “You sound as though you speak from experience. I didn’t know you had a brother.”
Imogen stepped closer. “There are a great many things you don’t know about me, Princess. Yes, I have a brother. I have not seen him since I came to Eden to study with the seers when I was five. But I think of him every day.”
“Came to study?” Carys asked. “I thought you were from the District of Acetia.” And timid. They all thought her timid. But this Imogen wasn’t the same one who stood beside Micah and flinched if he said something unkind. This was the Imogen from the Hall of Virtues with the Book of Knowledge in her hands and a plan on her lips. Only Carys hadn’t seen that. She’d been too concerned about the Elders and Garret and had only worried that her brother was letting passion rule his head. And that worry—the jealousy of his choosing Imogen over her—had made Carys blind to the truth that was standing in front of her now.
The wind howled and Imogen—frail, fragile Imogen—stood strong as a tree as she yelled, “I’m disappointed in you, Princess. A person can say they are from anywhere if there is no one to contradict them. My family admired the power of the seers and the trust they command. They wished their daughter to be one of them. And here I am Seer of Eden and soon to be wife of Andreus, King of Eden, Keeper of Virtues.”
“My brother does not believe in your supposed power.” Everything churned inside her. “He has spent his entire life hating the Guild and their seers.”
“Your brother says a lot of things, but at his core he wants approval. He ordered the death of that boy in order to gain the support of the Council. He bends on his disbelief of the seers to please me.” Imogen smiled. “He said he destroyed the thing you needed to make it through the Trials, and yet while he slept, I found this.”
From her pocket, Imogen withdrew a red glass bottle. Without thinking, Carys lifted a hand and took a step toward it.