Andreus stood with two of the High Lords and their ladies, but only half listened to the conversation swirling around him as he watched his sister move through the crowd. She was making a fool of herself with the entertainers and the young lords and ladies who normally she studiously avoided.
The rowdy laughter and cheers were certainly not a show of temperance. But then he saw one of the girls tie a band of blue onto Lord Trevlayn’s arm, and he wondered if Carys’s motives were really so clear.
“Your sister looks beautiful tonight, Prince Andreus,” Elder Jacobs said softly as he came to stand at Andreus’s side.
“Yes, she does,” Andreus agreed, even though it was a word he’d never used to describe his twin. But tonight with the jewels in her hair sparkling and her dress glowing in the wind-powered light, Carys commanded attention from men and women alike. Her appearance unsettled him. After the tournament today and Imogen’s revelation about the origin of the knife, he realized the one person he thought he knew better than any was really a mystery to him. Carys always told him that they were a team. That she was happy not to have to have secrets between them. That she was content blending into the background with him.
She’d obviously lied.
He studied his sister as she beamed while those surrounding her lifted their glasses and toasted her. He saw the way her eyes turned and stared at the throne sitting empty at the front of the Hall. And he knew Imogen was right. That Carys wanted the throne as much as he did and she was playing a dangerous game in order to get it.
“I don’t remember a formal occasion where the Princess had so many friends surrounding her.” Elder Jacobs turned his dark, intense eyes on Andreus. “Or a time where you were so interested in hearing from the High Lords about their districts.”
Carys always said the Elder of Mulinia—Eden’s District of Temperance—reminded her of a serpent. Andreus had never agreed more as the man’s words oozed together in an almost hypnotic way. Clearly, he wanted something, but Andreus wasn’t sure what that was. He chose his words carefully as he said, “My father and Micah preferred I keep my interest in the running of the kingdom to myself. As for Carys—” Andreus frowned as Carys strolled across the hall toward a man he vaguely recognized from the funeral. “I guess she is taking advantage of their interest in her now that she has a chance to gain the throne.” He thought for a moment. “She certainly seemed to like the attention of Lord Garret. I guess she has the Council of Elders to thank for that.”
“The Council, Your Highness?”
“It was the Council that ordered Lord Garret to act as her escort to the ball tonight.”
Elder Jacobs stared at Andreus for several beats, then said, “I fear you are mistaken, Prince Andreus. The Council as a whole ordered no such thing. If we had, it would have given the appearance of favoring your sister in the Trials.”
Andreus seethed. “If Carys were to win the Trials, the Council of Elders could arrange for her to marry Lord Garret. That would help you achieve your goal of putting him on the throne.”
“That was Chief Elder Cestrum’s goal, Your Highness. My goal is to serve the realm, and Eden is best served when we adhere to the law. When I agreed to support Lord Garret as the next ruler, I believed it was the only option for keeping Eden whole during these troubling times.” Elder Jacobs looked around them, then quietly added, “Personally, I was relieved Lady Imogen provided us with another option and have been delighted that you are having such success with the Trials thus far. There are some on the Council who feel the Princess would allow them to gain more power in the kingdom, but you and I both know she is not the ruler this kingdom needs.”
“And I am?” Andreus shook his head. “I find that hard to believe after what almost happened in this very hall.”
“A mistake,” Elder Jacobs admitted. “We all make them. I supported the Chief Elder’s choice of successor. You comforted a vulnerable young lady after the tragic loss of her fiancé.”
Andreus stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. You’ll find I make it a habit to discover all I can about those I wish to make my enemy . . . or my ally.”
“And which one am I?”
“I would have thought that was obvious. Elder Cestrum still wishes to put his nephew on the throne despite his nephew’s unexpected reluctance, but I have come to understand the error of that choice and believe that you, Your Highness, have a chance to do great things if you have the right people at your side. Your father was at odds with the Elders, but I could convince them to work with you. As representatives of the districts, the Council of Elders wields a great deal of power with the High Lords and the common people. Influence a smart man could use—if he were to win the Trials and become King. Perhaps a smart man could figure out how to tap into that influence even before the Trials’ end to guarantee that he wins.”
Andreus went still as he studied Elder Jacobs, who was watching the dance floor as though the words he spoke were of little importance. For a second he wished Carys were with him. She would be able to untangle everything Elder Jacobs had said, and all that he hadn’t. If Elder Jacobs knew about Imogen and their relationship, how much else did he know? Could he know about the curse? Carys would be able to read into the hidden meanings of the words. She’d be able to tell him if she thought the Elder suspected Andreus’s affliction and was simply toying with him, or if his offer of the crown and the support of the Council were real.
If they were, the crown would be his no matter what his sister’s plan. The Council and the districts they represented would bend knee and follow him without question. He would be a stronger King than his stubborn father was or his intractable brother ever would have been.
He looked at the throne as it gleamed bright as the sun on the dais and heard Imogen’s voice playing in his head as she warned him to beware of his twin. Of the desire for power that had taken hold in Carys even as she pretended to be working to hand that power to him.
“Your sister is clever, my prince,” Imogen had said while buried in his arms. “She understands that the love of the people holds more power than any crown. By killing the man she sent to attack you, she has gained the support of those who once looked upon her with doubt.”
He shook his head, hating that he worried whether what Imogen said was true. “If Carys had wanted to win the throne she could have just let the man kill me. Instead, she killed him.”
“And in doing so gained the admiration of everyone watching. Just yesterday they were calling you their hero, but now even though she is losing the Trials, the Princess is all they talk about.”
The court had spoken about her, too. And all with fascination.
“I am sorry, my prince, but I fear your sister has turned against you. If she knew about us I would say it was jealousy that has caused her to do you harm. After all, she is your twin. She feels she has a claim on your heart. Who knows what other lengths she might go to keep it?”
He didn’t want to believe that Carys could be involved in the attack against him, but the more he thought about it, the more he recalled the way she assumed that if she truly competed, she would win the Trials and the throne would belong to her. She wanted the throne, but once he’d objected to her plan for him to help her gain it, she pretended to have no interest.
And then there was Carys’s reaction to learning that he had spent the night with the seeress instead of waiting for his sister to return from the North Tower. His sister had acted as though he’d betrayed her. But she was the one who was guilty of betrayal. She was the one who with her secrets and now her jealousy was intent on harm.
The stilettos, the Tears of Midnight, and Carys’s ball gown—and its possible connection to the seamstress Captain Monteros was searching Garden City for—proved louder than words that his sister was skilled at hiding things from him. He had been a fool to take his sister at her word. Imogen’s assertions made sense and her worry for him was real. He should have paid attention to the doubt he felt when Carys promised her interest in the crown was only to protect him from his curse.
But he would also be a fool to take Elder Jacobs at his word now. And he was done being anyone’s fool.
“After your support of Garret, it would be hard for a smart man to trust you at your word, my lord.”
Elder Jacobs smiled. “That is not only true, it is wise. Trust is earned and I would like us to trust one another. I find the virtue of temperance fascinating. I suppose I had no choice since I grew up in Mulinia. But I believe I would be intrigued by the complexity of the virtue even if I had not. So much of temperance is about not giving in to one’s most passionate emotions and impulses. That sounds so simple, but I find the virtue of temperance to be a double-edged sword. Don’t you?”
Andreus waited for the Elder to make himself clear. “Because temperance can cause inaction. It can also cause confusion. You see, it is easy to understand how a person should not give in to emotions like anger, but it is harder to see that temperance applies as well to the desire to forgive—and to gain approval from those around them. Especially if a person is King. Kings cannot give in to their desire for affection when they have been betrayed. That is when strong action is required. A definitive line must be drawn in the sand so people know it cannot be crossed.”
“Are you saying you don’t believe I can draw that line?”
“Me?” Elder Jacobs shook his head. “No. But there are others on the Council who have . . . concerns.”
“What kind of concerns?” Andreus demanded.
“Your lack of enthusiasm for your training with the guard, your willingness to work with commoners on the windmills, and your fondness for the boy who you rescued make many wonder if you are weak. A kingdom this large must be ruled in part by strength—a strength your sister showed at the tournament today. The Council and the kingdom know that she will deal swiftly and permanently with any who seek to injure the kingdom or the crown. I fear by tomorrow the Council will be tailoring the Trials to ensure they can award points to Princess Carys. Unless, of course, you do something to change their minds.”
Two lords and their ladies walked over to extend their sympathy to Prince Andreus.
He clenched his fists at his side, but smiled and thanked the nobles for their kind words. Then, he apologized for needing time to confer with the Elder about an important and private matter.
“Of course, Your Highness. Please tell the Queen she is in our thoughts.”
He assured them he would even though he knew he wouldn’t. As far as he knew his mother was still in a drug-induced stupor. He hoped she would stay that way until he could secure the crown.
If the Council was turning toward Carys, it meant they were once again seeing Andreus as second best.
He wouldn’t let them. Not this time.
Once the nobles were out of earshot, he turned back to Elder Jacobs and asked, “Do you have a suggestion as to how I might change those minds? I would be happy to speak to each of the Council members if that would gain their support.”
Elder Jacobs sighed and quietly said, “I fear words will not do much good. You see, many on the Council believe you are not capable of tempering your desire for approval in order to instill fear, which is a tool all effective kings must be willing to command. The court and the commoners alike must know you are capable of punishing those who do you harm or there can be no respect for the crown. Without that respect the kingdom will falter. The Council of Elders is waiting for a demonstration that you can instill fear. I have assured them you will not disappoint. If I am right, the Council will shift their allegiance to you. You will be declared the winner of all the trials, for appearance’s sake, and the throne will be yours.”
Andreus glanced back at the gold-and-sapphire seat on the dais behind him. Still studying the glistening throne, he heard Elder Jacobs say, “I expect you will not let me or the kingdom down tonight, Your Highness.” And with that, Elder Jacobs strolled into the crowd.
As others approached to curry favor and offer their sympathies, Andreus looked around the room for Imogen. She had to be warned that Elder Jacobs was aware of the two of them. Elder Jacobs’s words felt like a threat. If Andreus didn’t take advantage of the Elder’s desire to be an ally and rally the Council to his side, then the Elder had made it known that he had the tools to be a very dangerous enemy.
He would not lose Imogen or the throne that Carys promised would be his, and he fought to bite back his frustration each time a new noble stopped to talk with him as he moved around the Hall searching for the seeress.
“Your sister is not at all acting like your mother would,” High Lady Rivenda sniffed as she looked to where Carys was standing—closer than she should be—to the man she had been dancing with not long ago. “I had heard she had overcome her . . . difficulties. Clearly, not.”
“My sister is just feeling the stress of this terrible week, my lady,” he said, automatically defending his twin. When he realized what he had done, he changed tactics and offered, “It has been difficult for us all. I guess you can’t blame her for resorting to whatever offers comfort.”
“She is lucky to have a brother who is so understanding,” Lady Rivenda gushed. “I am so sorry for your losses and wish you luck in the Trials. My Lord Wynden and I are rooting for you.” She pointed to the yellow jewels she wore and Andreus smiled before extricating himself from the conversation.
Where was Imogen? Her worries about Carys’s jealousy pulled at him as he spoke with several other lords and ladies, several of whom wished to introduce him to their daughters. Then he spotted Imogen speaking with Elder Ulrich and he couldn’t help but smile. Lady Imogen’s gown of rich yellow, a public pledge of her belief in him, made his entire being swell with pride. She was his. Micah might have wanted her, but Imogen loved Andreus. Just as he had loved her from the first. He would do whatever it took to give her the home she always yearned for as a child. If that meant—
A scream scraped over the music and the laughter. Then another.
Reaching for his sword, Andreus looked around for the cause as Captain Monteros and several of the castle guard emerged from the crowd with a screaming young man in tow.
“Leave me go. I just wanted to see what a ball was like. I didn’t cause no harm.”
The crowd parted and the Council of Elders appeared at the base of the dais in the front of the Hall. Elder Cestrum nodded at Captain Monteros as he grabbed the boy and threw him to the white stone floor. Andreus stepped toward the front of the room and saw his sister appear on the other side. The man she had danced with was at her shoulder as she watched the trembling youth sprawled face down on the ground.
“Excuse me, Elders.” Captain Monteros bowed. “My men captured this thief inside the Hall.”
“I ain’t no thief. I was just told—”
“Silence, boy.” Chief Elder Cestrum stepped forward. “This is a serious charge. Captain Monteros, do you have proof this boy was in fact stealing in the Hall of Virtues?”
Captain Monteros nodded to one of the guard members standing behind the protesting youth.
“I saw him,” the guard said. “He cut a purse off a lord’s belt. That’s when I grabbed him.”
“I have the purse right here, my lords,” Captain Monteros said, holding up a small, black velvet bag. “It belongs to Lord Nigel and proves without a doubt that the boy is a thief.”
“I am not!” He pushed himself to his knees. Fear shone from his eyes even as he straightened his shoulders in defiance. It reminded Andreus of Max the first time he woke up in Madame Jillian’s quarters and saw a prince standing over him.
The Hall that had been filled with music and laughter seconds ago was silent as they waited while Elder Cestrum and the Council spoke in hushed tones to each other. When they turned back, Elder Cestrum said, “The Council has decided to leave the decision as to the boy’s guilt and his punishment in the hands of Prince Andreus and Princess Carys. The successor who pronounces the punishment that we the Council feel serves best will see his or her sentence carried out and will be awarded an additional point. Would Prince Andreus and Princess Carys please step onto the dais?”
Elder Jacobs glanced at Andreus as he moved past the other members of the Council and walked up the four steps to stand next to the Throne of Light. For a moment Andreus could picture his father sitting there, Micah standing at his side. The image was gone as he turned and watched his sister reach the top of the dais. Her eyes were filled with concern as she looked down at those on the floor of the Hall.
“Princess Carys.” Elder Cestrum pointed with a black iron finger at the boy kneeling on the ground. “This boy has been accused of stealing the purse of a High Lord in the Hall of Virtues. What punishment would you command be carried out to see that he and all others in the realm understand the severity of this crime?”
Carys looked at Andreus. Then she stepped down from the dais and crossed to the boy on the ground with his defiantly raised chin and terrified eyes.
“What is your name?” she asked.
It took the boy two tries to say, “My name is Varn, Your Highness.”
Carys cocked her head to the side and calmly asked, “How did you come to be in the Hall of Virtues tonight, Varn?”
The controlled way his sister spoke was the essence of temperance. Concerned, Andreus glanced at the Council, who were watching Carys intently as the boy on the white stone floor explained, “A man said there would be food here. He told me I could come. So, I did because I was hungry, Your Highness.”
Andreus could see some in the crowd shift with impatience, but there were others who clearly believed the boy’s simple declaration and felt sorry for him.
Carys frowned and whirled toward Captain Monteros, her voice louder as she demanded, “Captain, how is it this boy was allowed into the castle, let alone the Hall of Virtues?”
Captain Monteros stared at Carys. “He must have snuck past the guards at the gate, Your Highness, and—”
“How many guards did you post at the entrance?”
“Dozens, Your Highness.”
“And they all are aware that my brother, their prince, was attacked by an assassin on the tournament grounds?”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“And yet this boy, who looks as if he hasn’t bathed in weeks and hasn’t eaten a real meal in at least as long, managed to gain access to the castle, wander dozens of corridors to reach the Hall of Virtues, and venture inside without any of the castle guard seeing him?”
A gasp went through the crowd as the significance of Carys’s words became apparent. Captain Monteros’s eyes shifted behind Carys to the Elders.
She didn’t wait for his answer. The bottom of her dress rippled and tendrils of hair blew around her face as she spun to face the Council. “If the guards Captain Monteros trained cannot be trusted to keep Varn and others who are uninvited out, how can I trust the word of the one who spoke against this boy tonight?”
“Are you saying the boy is innocent?” Elder Cestrum asked.
The room held their breath as Carys said, “Did I say that, my lord, or are you putting words in my mouth? Perhaps my maid can get you a dress to wear so you can just pretend to be me.”
Carys’s angry words made everyone in the room mumble—with surprise or disapproval, which Andreus could not tell. The Chief Elder’s eyes narrowed. If he wasn’t angry with his twin, Andreus would have applauded the insult. As it was, he was glad for the lack of control she was currently displaying. Certainly, a loose tongue was the opposite of temperance. Her words were coming faster and faster, and he could see the way she trembled. Most people would think it was because she was so upset, but he knew better. He recognized the signs of the Tears of Midnight losing effectiveness.
“You wish to know what I think?” His sister turned back to look at the boy, who appeared more terrified than when this began. “I believe there are many in this room and this castle who are to blame. This boy is but one of them. And it would be unjust to punish one without punishing them all. A week in the stockades in the center of Garden City for the guards who failed in their duty will make sure they don’t do so again. As for the boy—since there was no one concerned enough to tell him he could not enter the castle, my verdict is that he is to go free.”
The guard members standing behind Captain Monteros exchanged nervous glances.
The youth started to scramble to his feet, but Captain Monteros grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down. “I don’t believe you are done yet, boy,” Captain Monteros said, standing over him. “Prince Andreus has yet to give his verdict on what your punishment should be.”
Elder Cestrum nodded. “Yes. Prince Andreus. Your sister has given us a fascinating view of what her reign as Queen would look like. Publically punishing the guard is a . . . unique choice. Now the Elders and the court here in the Hall of Virtues would like to hear from you. What ruling would you give this young man for his crimes?”
All eyes turned to Andreus. He pretended not to feel the weight of their expectation as he studied Varn huddled on the floor. Andreus had no doubt as to how the boy got in the castle. After his discussion with Elder Jacobs, Andreus was sure that this “theft” was designed by the Council as part of the Trials. The boy was here because the Council wanted him here. The guards let him through because that had been their orders. Did the boy cut the purse Captain Monteros was holding off a lord’s belt? The boy had no knife that Andreus could see. If he had one, surely the guards would have taken it and shown it as another sign of the boy’s guilt.
His sister was right to say the boy should be set free, at the very least given a minimal punishment for this “crime.” But Andreus knew that was not the ruling the Council wanted—not the ruling he was supposed to give. Not if he wanted to convince them that he was strong enough to set aside his desire for approval and do what the kingdom needed. That he could draw a line in the sand that others knew could never be crossed without serious retribution.
Micah used to say their uncle had been right to want to lead a force decades ago against Adderton for their sheltering and support of the living members of the Bastians. Their uncle claimed King Ulron was weak for not hunting the last of them. He said strong men removed the head of a snake if they truly wished to ensure its death.
Instead of striking down Adderton and the Bastians, their father ordered the guards to seize their uncle for what he claimed was a plot against the crown. Not long after, Father took the advice offered by his brother and removed the snake’s head. No one after that dared to call King Ulron weak.
Now the Council was looking for that same strength—from him. As long as Andreus could convince Elder Jacobs and the rest that he was his father’s son, the crown would be his. His sister’s bid to bring the Council to her side would fail. Imogen would be his Queen and Carys would accept her new place in his life—or he would deal with that, too.
But first he had to cut the head off this snake.
“I understand my sister’s desire for mercy. It is only human to be swayed by a tale of hunger and a sad face. A strong ruler cannot act out of pity, but must instead think of the law.” Andreus glanced down at the boy—Varn—whose defiant pose was gone now. Instead, he seemed to be pleading for help with his eyes.
Andreus’s resolve trembled like the innocent boy in front of him. He thought of Max and for a moment wondered if Varn and Max could have known each other on the streets of Garden City. What would Max think after hearing that Andreus had passed judgment on a boy who was in essence just like him? Would he still believe Andreus was his hero?
Andreus pulled his gaze up and found Imogen standing not far behind the boy in the crowd. To keep her safe, he must be King. To be King, he must prove to the Council he was strong. What was one life when compared to all the others he would help as King? One life against hundreds of thousands.
And really, the boy was here in the Hall of Virtues. He must have known that when he walked into the castle and came through these doors he was doing something wrong. Still he came. For that arrogance the boy deserved to pay a price.
Keeping his eyes firmly on Imogen’s face, Andreus straightened his shoulders and said, “This boy stole a purse. Thefts must be punished. If they are not, it only encourages others to incite trouble in our city and the kingdom. The punishment for theft is the loss of a hand.”
“But I didn’t do it, Your Highness,” the boy cried. “They—”
“Silence,” Andreus snapped. “By interrupting you have shown clearly that you have no respect for the lords of this land. Not only did you steal a purse, but you used a weapon to do so.”
“Andreus,” Carys said.
He could hear the concern in his sister’s voice and he shoved it to the side. Thinking of the throne sitting just behind him, he walled up any pity he felt for the boy and instead focused on the way everyone waited for him to continue. High Lords hung on his every word. The Council of Elders and the guard were waiting to act as he ordered. Terror made the boy on the floor shake.
They all watched him as he had always seen people look at his father. He was no longer the one who guarded a terrible secret—no longer the one that was cursed. He was the one with power.
“To allow you to walk free would be a signal to all of Eden that attacking a lord is allowed.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Andreus!”
He wasn’t listening to his sister or the boy. He felt the power of the throne calling to him as he said, “For the crime of attacking a lord with a knife, stealing from him, and open disrespect to the throne, I order this criminal put to death.”
Elder Cestrum stepped forward. “The Council agrees with Prince Andreus. The boy is to be taken to the North Tower, where he will be executed as the Prince of this land has decreed.”
“No,” the youth said, shaking his head at the same time Carys yelled, “Andreus! What are you doing?”
The lights flickered in the hall. The shining orbs hanging from above began to sway as Captain Monteros yanked the boy to his feet and shoved him toward the two guards.
“It wasn’t me,” the boy shouted. “Your Highness. You have to believe me. It wasn’t me!” He pulled himself free of the guards’ grasp and came racing toward the dais. His hands were clasped in front of him—begging for mercy.
“I didn’t do it,” Varn shouted. “Please, Your Highness. Please—”
Light flashed off the steel in Captain Monteros’s blade as it slashed through the air.
Andreus heard his sister scream.
The lights flickered again. Captain Monteros’s sword bit into and through flesh. Blood spurted like a fountain, staining the white floor. Shrieks rang through the room and then went silent as the boy’s body crumpled to the ground and his head landed with a thud and rolled toward the dais.
When the Chief Elder stepped forward and declared Andreus the winner of both the ball and the extra trial, putting him two points closer to the throne—closer to the power he had just wielded—Andreus knew he should be horrified by what he had done.
The boy was dead. His words were the sword that killed him.
He had crossed a line he had never thought he would cross.
Regret bubbled up inside him. But when he saw Imogen’s understanding expression and saw Elder Jacobs nod when he met his eyes, Andreus shoved it back down instead, focused on the rush of strength and control. That power was what he wanted. That power would let him destroy the curse that had controlled his life since the day he was born. Once he had the throne, the “curse” would be no more and the people he had always feared would realize they should now fear him.
No, he would not regret his choice.
A glance at his sister shaking and sweating as she looked up at him with horror told him exactly what line he had to cross next.