Several times Deevana shouted his name and asked for them to slow, but he insisted they keep riding—first to the road and then south for as long as their horses could gallop. Finally, he slowed his horse and called, “I think we are far enough away now to make camp. The horses need rest.”
They left the road and found a small pond where the horses could drink. In the distance beyond he saw the steady glow of dozens of wind-powered lights against the night.
“That’s a lot of lights,” Deevana said, coming to stand next to him. “Do you think it could be Temperance Hold?”
He shook his head. “We haven’t traveled far enough to reach the District of Miluina yet. It must be a large village near a keep.”
“If it is, they have a lord more generous than Blackthorn was,” his sister observed. Graylem nodded. Blackthorn Keep used wind power to light its halls and power the village water pumps and the mill. The rest made due with torches and candles to chase the shadows. Their father used to tell stories of windmills the size of mountains and cities that glowed like the sun even when the moon shone. Maybe they weren’t exaggerations after all.
He tethered his horse to a squat bush next to the pond then reached for the reins of his sister’s mount.
“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” she said.
He felt Deevana’s eyes on him as he stared at the lights in the distance. “You saw Father teach me how to use a sword.”
“Not like that. Father had quick hands and quicker feet, but he couldn’t fight like that.”
“The sword he used was heavier. I started using a lighter one when I began working with Goodman Bryant.” A few weeks after he’d started at the smithy, there had been a tournament held by the Blackthorns. The son of a neighboring lord had fought with the same kind of blade Graylem now carried. The lord was of lean build, just like Graylem, and appeared as if he would be at a disadvantage next to all the bigger, stronger fighters. Graylem had never seen anything like it.
It took him weeks to convince Goodman Bryant to help him make a similar sword. Once he did, Graylem practiced what he remembered seeing on the tournament field—alone, and then with whatever apprentice was willing to face him. He’d lost more than he’d won to start. Then one day he started winning.
“And you kept it a secret.”
“It wasn’t something anyone needed to know,” he said, glad the moon wasn’t bright enough for the blush of his half-truth to show. His father would have pushed him to use the skill to aid his thieving. His mother would have endlessly worried for him. So he had kept his secret and waited for the day he could prove himself with his blade.
He never imagined that the first time he did so, he would cause men to die.
“I wonder what other secrets you are keeping,” Deevana whispered. “What else can you do?” Before he could think of an answer, she turned toward her packs to set up camp. For a change, she said little as they ate and only complained of his unwillingness to let her use his blankets when it was time for sleep.
“You should have thought to pack your own instead of bringing along—” He glanced at the bundles next to his sister. “Whatever it is you brought with you.”
Deevana sighed. Graylem refused to feel guilty when she settled into her cloak and he into his blankets, but he failed when she shivered in her sleep. Carefully, he placed one of his blankets over her and wrapped himself in the other. He watched as some of the lights in the distance darkened as he waited for the screams of pain and the gurgles of death to fade from his mind.
“I had the most wonderful dream,” Deevana said when the pond glistened with the early morning light. “I dreamed of hundreds of lights like the ones we saw last night. And the orb shining high above the Palace of Winds.”
“It sounds as if you slept well.”
“You didn’t?” she asked, turning toward him. Whatever she saw in his face made his sister frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, not wanting to give voice to the images of death that had haunted him through the night. He reached into his travel pack, pulled out a roll, and threw it to his sister. “It’s time for us to ride. The farther south we go the farther we will be from the men we relieved of their horses.” The men might want their horses back, but they wouldn’t risk traveling closer to Garden City where they could be recognized as deserters.
“Do you think we could see it?” Deevana asked once they were on the road again.
“See what?”
Deevana rolled her eyes and laughed. “The lights of Garden City. The orb of Eden. I want to know if they are as bright and beautiful as everyone says.”
“Knowing you,” Graylem said, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince your husband to take you there. Maybe you’ll even see the Hall of Virtues and the Throne of Light.”
“Or I could see it before then.” She smiled. “After all, we are riding south to Irae. Garden City is on the way.”
He had planned on giving Garden City a wide berth. The last thing they needed before Deevana was safely married and assured her new life was a city full of items that could tempt her. “There’s no time. We don’t want word of your supposed death reaching Lady Venia and her son before you do.”
“There is little to no chance of that happening, Graylem. And the way your face currently matches your hair tells me you know that to be true. So why can’t we stop in Garden City? Lady Venia and my soon-to-be husband can’t be expecting us to arrive anytime soon. If they were, you would have talked to me about the marriage prospect before yesterday.”
“You’ll see Garden City once you are married,” he assured her. “If you just wait . . .”
“But if I wait, I won’t see it with you.” Deevana yanked on her reins and brought her horse to a stop. “I won’t be able to picture you there. And that’s where you intend to go after, isn’t it?”
His horse danced underneath him as he urged it to stop. “What?”
Deevana sighed. “You kept your skill with the sword a secret for years. I’m guessing it’s because you wanted to enter one of the Blackthorn tournaments and take all the other swordsmen by surprise. If you won, you would have been given enough coin to live on for years and offered a position as one of the ranking members of some northern district lord’s guard.”
Graylem shrugged. “And now they think I’m dead.”
“Which is why you have to do something else. And really, this is better because you are better than that life.”
“I’m not our father, Deevana. I don’t need more.”
“Maybe not, but you deserve more than what being in the service of Lord Blackthorn would offer. Now you can set your sights higher. What higher place could there be than Garden City and the Palace of Winds? You could be a defender of the Seven Virtues and slay the King’s enemies.”
Graylem looked off in the distance.
“You didn’t like killing those men. It haunts you.” It wasn’t a question. Like it or not, just as he knew his sister’s heart, she knew his.
“I never took a life before,” he said quietly. “I always knew I might have to as a member of Blackthorn’s guard, but so rarely does that happen. I guess I just told myself it would never happen.”
“You know you didn’t have a choice. They attacked us. They would have killed both of us had you not defeated them.”
Defeated.
A nice word to cover unpleasant things.
“You told me you thought they were deserters of Eden’s Guard.”
He nodded.
“What would happen to them if they were caught and brought back to Garden City?”
“They would be put to death,” he said, feeling some of the pressure inside his chest release at the truth Deevana offered. The men had earned their deaths long before they had met him. And yet . . .
“I know you’ve always been frustrated with me,” Deevana said. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and she smiled. “You’ve always liked to follow the rules that I felt chained by. You believe in earning what life gives you. There is no one I can imagine making a better King’s Guardsman because you do what is right. It’s why you feel responsible for my happiness.”
“I care about your happiness because I love you. You’re my sister.”
“And what of your happiness?” she asked, her eyes ablaze with feeling. “I know you don’t think that I worry about you, but I do. It’s an older sister’s job to worry about her younger brother.”
“You are only ten months older, and you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Of course I do. You have ensured my future. You burned everything we owned to make sure I could live that future. And now it is my turn to make sure you don’t give up on yours.” Deevana nudged her horse closer to his, and she reached over and took his hand in hers. “It’s my fault that you lost a chance to gain the life you wanted to live. Let’s go to Garden City now so you can see whether a better life might be waiting for you there. I can be there for you the way you have always been there for me. And when I start the life that you have worked so hard to give me, I will be able to do so without regret.”
Warmth and relief flooded him. Despite living in the same house and seeing each other every day, Graylem had been isolated from his sister as he planned for the future and worried about what she might think of those plans. Now . . .
Something glinted in Deevana’s eyes, and he noticed the way she leaned forward on her horse. The way she held her breath as she waited for him to agree. He had seen that anticipation before.
“And that’s the only reason you want to go to Garden City. For me. To help me decide if I should try to become a member of Eden’s Guard?” he asked.
Deevana’s eyes narrowed for just a second, and the knot inside him tightened. “No, that’s not the only reason,” she admitted with great sincerity. Then she gave him an impish smile. “It’s also because it will be fun!”
His sister’s sense of fun lasted two days. The sun shone as they slowly made their way south through their home district of Orgo to the very northernmost part of the kingdom of Eden, toward Miluina. Then sleet fell from the sky and the food Graylem had brought with him began to run low. He had to stop their travel in order to set traps and hunt—two things Deevana chafed at.
“Why don’t we go to one of the farmhouses or get food in a village?” she asked.
“Because winter has just come to an end and the farmers will have little enough food for themselves. They won’t have extra on hand, and unless you have a wealth of gold that I don’t know about, we don’t have the coins necessary to pay for food and still have enough to stay in Garden City for a handful of days.”
His sister frowned each time they stopped early so he could tread through the trees and over the hills, putting his father’s bow to use, but she was full of effusive praise when he arrived back at their camp with a gray rabbit or a grouse, and, on their second week of travel, a hill deer who must have recently joined the male herd Graylem had stumbled across. The animal had not been quick enough to sense danger before the arrow found its heart.
It took time to skin the deer as well as cook the meat and dress its fur. But for once Deevana didn’t mind helping with the chores or the delay since it meant gaining a warm ground cover for her to sleep on and enough meat to allow them to travel for days without needing to waste time on finding more. Graylem also used the time to practice with his sword and work out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. All the while he slashed at imaginary foes and ducked away from the blades he could picture coming toward him, he could feel his sister’s eyes watching. Though every time he turned toward their campfire, she was looking away.
The sleet and rain disappeared as the days passed. Green buds appeared on the trees. They saw more travelers on the road, and one night he and his sister camped with a Garden City merchant and his daughter. While Deevana discussed the jewelry the merchants made and the lords and ladies who purchased their wares, Graylem asked the only question he had need to have answered.
“How many days will it take for us to get to Garden City?”
“My daughter and I have been traveling for just over a week, but you are traveling without a cart. You should arrive sooner.”
Less than a week. And according to the merchant, it would take about that much longer to reach their final destination and Deevana’s new home. They could spend several days in Garden City and still be able to travel south in plenty of time.
Still, he couldn’t help worrying when his sister changed the subject each time he spoke of her upcoming wedding.
Her smile grew wider with every farm and village they passed, and three nights later, when Graylem spotted the distant but steady glow in the sky where no star had shined the night before, he couldn’t help his own spurt of excitement. Their father had told stories on wintery nights with Graylem and his sister sitting in front of the fire. He spoke of the enormous orb that had been placed on a pedestal at the top of the tallest tower of the Palace of Winds. Its light was a symbol of the purity of the virtues the Kingdom of Eden had been founded upon and was meant to guide those who were searching in the dark to the safety of the great white walls. It was the walls, the virtues, and that light that the King and his guard were sworn to uphold.
Humility. Charity. Temperance. Patience. Endurance. Strength. Chastity.
Justice was not among the virtues. Neither was honesty, as his father was quick to point out. Therefore the virtues were also important for those who were successful thieves. It was Deevana’s lack of humility that no doubt raised suspicions in Blackthorn Keep and set them on the road south. In just a handful of days he and his sister would stand inside the walls of the city that exemplified those virtues. And there, Graylem would learn whether he belonged.
“What are these?” he asked. He pulled a pair of black trousers decorated with silver thread on the cuffs from his travel bag and looked for his sister. Despite being close enough to see the walls of Garden City, she had insisted they camp near a river so they could both bathe before they entered.
He pulled out another pair of brown trousers, these edged with threads of gold, and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “Deevana, where are my clothes?”
“Those are your clothes,” his sister called. The bushes nearest the river rustled, and Deevana stepped out wearing a dress he had certainly never seen before. “So,” his sister said as she smiled. “What do you think?”
He scrambled to his feet, the trousers in his hand forgotten.
The dress his sister was wearing looked richer by far than any he had seen Deevana wear before—richer than any girl in their village had ever hoped to own. It was a green color that matched the winter tree needles they had in abundance up north, cut with pale blue and edged with gold. The brush in Deevana’s hand was silver. Also something he had never before laid eyes upon. But she had clearly used it to brush her hair until it fell like a crimson waterfall around her shoulders.
“Is that what you stole?” he asked. “Clothes? Brushes?” Was this for what they burned everything their mother had loved?
“Lady Blackthorn looked terrible in this dress. She said so herself and insisted that it be carried away. I just waited until there was no one around to notice when I took it farther than she anticipated.”
“And those?” He pointed down at the clothing in his pack. “Were they unflattering as well?”
She lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed. “No one notices when a few trousers or a dress go missing. Not when they have so many. I wanted to leave you a gift that you could use on a special day so you would think of me.”
“Because you were always planning on leaving Blackthorn.” It made sense. The dress. The bulky items that she must have already had packed in bags ready to take with her when she made her escape. “You planned on leaving me behind.”
The realization didn’t surprise him. Neither did the hurt.
Deevana walked toward him. Sunlight gleamed off her hair as she said, “We are not children anymore, Gray. You were making plans for the future, and I was as well. I knew you would disapprove of the methods I used to secure what I needed on my path, so I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing the love of the only family I had left.”
“You didn’t want me to put a stop to whatever it is that you had planned.”
She reached down and plucked her red cloak off her bags. Shrugging it over her shoulders to protect her from the chill, she admitted, “Perhaps that was part of it, too. But that’s behind us now because here we are ready to ride into Garden City together and see the Palace of Winds and everything we have ever been told about. Is it wrong that I want to do so in clothing that isn’t stained by dirt and sweat and the blood of the men you killed?”
Guilt surfaced again, just as he knew his sister had intended. Straightening his shoulders, he asked, “What else did you take, Deevana?”
“Things to sell,” she admitted. “Which I intend to do once I get to the city. Do not worry, Graylem. I am Father’s daughter. I avoided taking anything with the Blackthorn crest or markings that would show they are from a noble house in Orgo. No one will know they were not ours in the first place, especially not when I am dressed like this and you are dressed in those.” She nodded at the trousers in his hand.
“Deevana . . .”
“And,” Deevana added, “members of the guard will be far likelier to answer your questions and introduce you to their captain if you appear to be a noble of skill looking to serve your king instead of a peasant seeking out a place to sleep and three meals a day.”
Graylem frowned and looked back down at the trousers in his hands. As much as it bothered him, there was nothing he could do about the items his sister had liberated now. That was in the past. And if he balked at Deevana’s ideas it would make the future far more problematic.
Despite wanting to throttle her, he kept his voice calm and said, “I’ll wear these, but only if you promise that once we are inside Garden City you won’t cause trouble. I need you to promise that you won’t steal—not silver or clothing or anything—not even if you justify it by saying it will help me because it is better than what I have.” He looked into her eyes. “Do we have a deal, Deevana?”
“I promise that I won’t steal, Graylem,” Deevana said solemnly. “And if it makes you feel any better, the shirts I took for you had holes in them. I mended them myself.”
He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. “Then maybe they have blood on them after all.”
The brown trousers were the least decorative, so he chose those and went behind a bush to change so his sister couldn’t laugh at him as he fumbled with unfamiliar closures. He wasn’t sure why lords needed crisscrossing ties and then a flap with a buckle at the top and more ties at the bottom of his legs when just one simple tie to keep the britches from falling down would do.
It took him a good quarter of an hour to properly get into them, and he made a vow not to drink much of anything until he was sure he could unfasten them with haste if need be. He then unfolded the light blue tunic and smiled at the uneven stitching on one of the cuffs before slipping it over his head. After checking the fastenings again to make sure his pants wouldn’t fall, he walked back to where his sister waited with her hands clasped in front of her and a gleam in her eye. Their bags were already stowed on their horses, the fire extinguished.
He grabbed his cloak from the branch of a tree and shrugged it over his shoulders. “Are you ready to go?”
The smile his sister gave him was wide and filled with delight. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.”
The sun shone brightly as they rode. The grasses got greener and the air warmer the farther south they went. Billowy white clouds dotted the brilliant blue sky. Then the clouds shifted and Graylem felt his breath catch as in the distance he saw what could only be the Palace of Winds. He knew the Palace was sitting atop a plateau, but from where they were it looked as if it were floating with the clouds. In the glare of the sun, he couldn’t see the orb, but he could make out eight windmills churning atop the battlements.
They urged their horses to go faster as the Palace of Winds grew larger and higher and the walls around Garden City came into view, only slowing when they reached the main gates where carts and people went in and out. Graylem couldn’t help but stare. The walls surrounding the city were taller than Blackthorn Keep by double, perhaps triple the height and they were smooth as glass. His father said walls were made for thieves to climb, but these walls—only thieves with more recklessness than sense would consider scaling them with hope of success.
He studied the guards standing at the gates in their mail shirts with cloaks of blue and yellow—their hands resting on the hilts of the broadswords hanging at their sides—as he rode beside his sister into the city that was home to Eden’s King and Queen.
“We should first find a place to stay,” Graylem said, trying not to gawk at the sheer number of people roaming the wide street. It seemed to stretch from the gate straight ahead into the heart of the city, which was bustling with activity. “The merchant, Goodman Tyrelle, suggested the Red Stag. Perhaps we should stop and ask one of the guards for directions.”
His sister shook her head. “Let’s wait until we get closer to the center of the city,” she said as she nudged her horse forward.
Kids laughed and ran in and out of narrow streets. Other people shouted as they sold their wares. The smell of so many people mixed with baking bread and the soot of torches and fires was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t sure how far they rode into the city. It was impossible to gauge when all the buildings looked much the same.
Eventually, Deevana pointed into the distance with delight at a large tree in the middle of an open square. A man in a yellow and blue cloak with the seal of the Seven Virtues stood with three other guardsmen near a low wall. The seal, Graylem realized, marked him as a member of the elite King’s Guard. Beyond the wall, closer to the tree, were a group of richly dressed women. One, standing a little bit apart, wore a snowy white cloak. Her head was bowed in contemplation or prayer.
Excitement filled his sister’s face as she nudged her horse forward and yelled, “Follow me!”
Before he could ask for an explanation, she turned her mount toward the buildings at the northern side of the square. She stopped in front of one with a symbol of an in-bloom rose often used to represent the virtue of Chastity and the District of Lussuria hanging on a plaque over the door.
His sister slid off her mount and handed the reins to a young, brown-cloaked boy who stepped out from the stable beside the building. Before Graylem had a chance to dismount, she tossed her hair and in a firm, haughty voice said, “My brother and I are here to see Lord Nigel and Lady Ariella of Justice Hall.”
“Lord Nigel and Lady Arielle aren’t here, m’lady,” the boy explained.
“But they will be?” she pressed. When the boy just stood gaping at her, she asked, “This is the inn where they stay when they come to Garden City? Or do I need to tell Lord Nigel and Lady Ariella that they are not remembered by this establishment?”
“Excuse me, my lady!” A man with a neatly trimmed dark beard and a frown for the boy appeared in the inn’s doorway. “My apologies for my son’s confusion. The lord and lady of Justice Hall do often stay here when they come to Garden City. But they are not in residence now.”
Deevana’s eyes flashed as she walked toward her brother. “I know they told you they would be here by now, but I am sure there is a good reason for their delay. You will send a messenger after this man shows us to our rooms.” She turned toward the inn’s owner and lifted her chin. “If we have to wait for them to arrive, we might as well wait here.”
“Yes, my lady,” the man said with a nod to his son. “It would be our honor to serve you, my lady. And we have two of our best rooms available.”
Before Graylem could say anything, his sister winked and swept through the inn’s open door, leaving him with no choice but to follow.