Andreus looked at Imogen’s tear-streaked face and couldn’t squelch the ever-present desire to protect her. Long dark hair. Deep-set eyes that looked away from him each time he turned her way.
Now those eyes were filled with tears and her hands trembled as she stood in front of Andreus begging his forgiveness for her failure.
He took a deep breath and pushed aside the weakness he still felt after his attack.
Cursed.
Maybe he was.
For years he’d tried to deny it. Despite his sister and his mother working hard to hide his secret, he’d wanted to believe it wasn’t real. Seers and their claims to read the future in the stars and call the winds weren’t real. He’d studied the winds and the histories of the weather. He worked with the tools that captured them and powered the lights Eden depended on.
But today . . . when he lay in the alcove with his hand pressed to the gash on his forehead where he’d struck the wall as he fell, he wondered if the curse wasn’t real. Thanks to his sister and the remedy, his body withstood the attack without anyone the wiser. His sister would need him once the punishment she took for him was over. He should tell Imogen whatever he needed to in order to get her to leave so he could go to Carys.
But looking at Imogen’s eyes shimmering with guilt, he couldn’t bring himself to escort her out the door.
“I tried to see the Queen, to explain that the stars shielded this from me, but her chamberlain told me she’d taken to her bed and could not be disturbed. And your sister is . . . busy. So I came to you.”
“I doubt my mother would have been good company, Lady Imogen.” She had probably already downed several cups of her infamous tea, which helped tamp down her temper, but in large doses loosened her tongue. “She doesn’t deal with loss well.”
“She was right to blame me.” Imogen walked across the room to stare out the window at the mountain range beyond the plateau.
“You are not responsible for my father and brother’s deaths,” he said, crossing the room to stand at her side.
“I failed to keep my betrothed safe.”
“It was the King’s Guard’s job to ensure their safety.”
“It was mine as well. And I failed. I so badly wanted to do what was right for the kingdom. I tried to follow what I believed was right. But I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” Andreus said. While he might not believe in the power she claimed to have, he did understand guilt. “I wish I could have changed things, too. I could have ridden to the battlefields with my father and Micah. Maybe if I had, I would have seen the attackers approach. I could have helped them.”
Imogen walked to him. The silk of her skirts rustled. She reached out to touch him, then just before she did pulled her fingers back. Quietly, she said, “There is nothing you could have done that a hundred and fifty men surrounding them did not try. But if I had not trusted the Guild or the vision I had telling me this would be my home, I would never have come to the Palace of Winds. Your brother and the King would not have placed their faith in me.
“I wanted to believe the vision that I belonged somewhere. That I didn’t have a home as a child because my true home was waiting for me to arrive. I was foolish and Micah should have let the Council and the King replace me as seer. If he hadn’t intervened—”
“Wait a minute.” Andreus stopped her. “My father and the Council wanted to remove you as seer?”
Seer of Eden wasn’t a job that someone just walked away from. The oath the seer took was for life.
“I didn’t mean to say that, Your Highness. Micah said no one was to know. I am just upset and saying things I shouldn’t. Everything will work out as it should.” Imogen dropped her gaze to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself. “You should visit your sister. The Princess shouldn’t be alone now.”
No. Carys shouldn’t be alone. Not tonight. Not after losing half their family and having to be punished for saving him. She should see for herself that she had succeeded and that he was okay. He owed her that. But what Imogen was talking about . . . a removal of a seer only happened upon the seer’s death—whether by natural causes or ordered by the king.
“My sister is a strong woman. She knows where to find me if she needs me. If you need help, let me help you.”
“Prince Micah said . . .”
“Prince Micah is gone.” Andreus took a step forward. He put a hand under Imogen’s chin and tilted her face up. “He can’t protect you.” Not that Micah was ever interested in protecting his betrothed. To Andreus’s eye, Imogen was just a means to an end. “But together we might be able to find a way to keep you safe. But you have to tell me what has happened that I don’t know about.”
She held her breath and studied him for a heartbeat. Two.
He saw the memory of that one night on the battlements in her eyes. For weeks, Andreus joined the shy, slight seeress there to help her understand the new windmill designs and the lines that carried their power to the lights on the castle and into the city below. At first her questions had been hesitant, but day after day her voice grew stronger and her words more confident. At least, with him. Andreus loved watching her come alive. He’d enjoyed seeing the smile that only seemed to appear when he came near and he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and keep her safe when she spoke of the family she’d lost when she was five. She’d talked to him quietly of how she wanted the Palace of Winds to be the home she’d never had, and Andreus recognized the same desire that he had experienced his entire life. The longing for utter safety.
Her beauty. Her passion for the wind. Her need for protection stirred him.
Then Micah and Imogen announced their betrothal and he’d felt betrayed.
It was Imogen who sought him out on the battlements later that night. To thank him, she said, for making her feel as if she was important. She took his arm and a spark passed through her touch even as the wind blew cold. Because of the chill, no one else braved the night atop the castle. There was no one to see him tilt his head down intending to meet her cheek only to have her turn. His lips touched hers and nothing else mattered. The shyness he had come to expect was gone. Suddenly she was like the wind—pulling at him. They fumbled into one of the windmills where nothing else mattered but the warmth of her skin.
A week later Imogen found him again—this time to ask Andreus to keep his distance out of deference to his brother. Andreus wanted to ask her why she’d agreed to marry Micah, but she walked away before he had the chance. He’d told himself he didn’t care. One night—one girl was nothing to him. To prove it he’d found other women to enjoy and used them to try and wedge a shield between Imogen and his heart.
Standing here with her hand in his, he admitted that those shields had never really existed. He wanted to hold and protect her now just as much as he had in the windmill that night.
“Please, Imogen,” he said, taking her hand. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I cannot believe after all I have done you are willing to help me. And I am grateful but there is little that you can do. I know you don’t believe in the visions, my prince. Micah said you have always doubted, so there is no way for you to understand what it is like to live your life being ruled by faith. Until I came to the Palace of Winds, my voice to the wind was strong and my sight to the stars was clear. Never when I asked the stars for guidance did they betray me. But ever since coming inside these walls I have had only one vision. The Council believes the Guild lied about my abilities. That I am part of a plot against your family and the Kingdom of Eden. But I’m not. Micah told them I wasn’t and he had me . . .”
“What?”
She shook her head. “He had me pretend to have a vision about a snake hiding in the forest. A few days later Captain Monteros brought back the head of a man he said attacked him while he was riding through the trees.”
“Captain Monteros was rewarded for killing an Adderton spy.”
She nodded. “And Micah convinced the King my vision had been true. The King took my side, but Elder Cestrum told Micah he wasn’t convinced. He is still looking to replace me, and now that your father and Micah are gone, it won’t be long until he finds a way to remove my head.”
Her lip trembled and he pulled Imogen into his arms and tight against his chest.
“The Council will not harm you now. Not after what has happened already.”
“You are not that naïve, my prince.”
No. He wasn’t. If the Council had their sights set on Imogen, Micah’s death would stall their plans, but not change their minds. And after his conversation with his mother today, he doubted the Queen would intercede. More likely than not she would do whatever was necessary to see Imogen’s head in a basket and a new seer installed in the Tower of Visions.
He wouldn’t allow that to happen. Holding her tight, he vowed, “I will do what I must to keep you safe. Just as Micah did.”
“Micah.” The word was a whisper before Imogen pushed away from his chest and out of his arms.
The jealousy he’d been denying for months clawed at him. Taking a deep breath, he shoved it back. “I am truly sorry for your heartbreak, Lady Imogen.”
She turned away from him and bowed her head so her hair draped over her face. “Your brother would have been a strong king. He asked me to marry him because he felt our union would make him stronger still, and I agreed because I thought it was the right thing to do for Eden. But I failed the kingdom and I can’t help but think I didn’t see what was coming in the stars because part of me didn’t want to.”
“What?”
“I should go.” Imogen grabbed her skirts and turned toward the door, but Andreus caught her before she could take a second step.
“What do you mean, Imogen?” His heart pulsed. Everything inside him went still. “Why wouldn’t you want to see what was going to happen?”
She shook her head and tried to pull her arm away. “I need to leave the castle. A true seer would never have let her own feelings get in the way of her visions. I wanted to care for you, brother, but he made it so hard. He knew nothing about me. Never asked where I came from or noticed what flowers I preferred. He wanted my power, not my heart, so he never cared that I had given it to another.” Imogen slowly turned and lifted her glistening eyes to meet his. “Soon your mother will take the throne and she and the Council will hold me accountable for my mistakes. I deserve to pay.”
“You did nothing wrong,” he insisted.
“Yes, I did,” Imogen said quietly. “I agreed to marry your brother, but I fell in love with you.”
Andreus stood there unmoving—staring at the seeress who had visited him in his dreams for months. None of the women he’d been with since could compare. So vulnerable. Beautiful. Sad. If she truly had powers, she was as dangerous and untouchable as ever. And she loved him.
When he said nothing, Imogen dropped her hand and sighed. “I shall leave you now.”
“Don’t.” Loss. Desire. Memories of the past. Uncertainty about the future. Duty to his family. But when she looked at him with her eyes filled with tears and regret, desire won out. He didn’t want to think about Micah tonight or his father or the fact that it was safer to let Imogen walk out the door. He was cursed. He should want to protect himself. Instead, he only wanted to hold her.
His mouth found Imogen’s in a gentle kiss that deepened and grew and made his body strain toward her. Her hands reached up and wove into his hair and once again there was nothing but the two of them. He pulled at the fastenings of his own clothes, then when she nodded at his unspoken question, began unfastening the ties of her dress.
Tomorrow would come and with it the grief of loss and regret. For now, he thought as she let him slip the dress off her shoulders so it pooled at his feet, they would comfort each other in the shadows.
If it damned them both, he didn’t care.
Imogen was gone when he woke. A small piece of purple silk, most likely torn from the hem of her gown, was on the floor next to the bed, but nothing else spoke of the passion and contentment they’d found in each other’s arms. There would be outrage if anyone learned what they had done. For him it would fade. He was, after all, a prince of the realm—the only prince now. And his interest in women was well known. He was able to take liberties with the virtues that others might not be allowed.
But Imogen . . . as a woman she was expected to hold her own virtue dear. She was also the seer and held to a higher standard still. While any who heard of his indiscretion would whisper about it for a day and go about their business, talk of Imogen’s visit to his rooms would follow her forever.
People would think she was determined to be Queen at all costs. Others would say she had shamed her promise to use her gifts to better the kingdom. None would be without opinion and most would not be good.
And still, despite that and her fear that the Council of Elders was looking to do her harm, she had bared her soul and her body to him. He should probably feel guilty. After all, no matter what they both felt, she had been his brother’s promised wife.
But he didn’t feel guilty. Maybe during the funeral tomorrow, he would see his brother’s body and have second thoughts, but for now his only regret was that he hadn’t been awake when Imogen had left so he could assure her again that he would do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe. Imogen needed his protection and his love and he would give her both.
The second regret he had was not seeing Carys last night. She knew how to take care of herself and her maid Juliette was more than capable of helping ease any pain from the lashing she would have received.
Received . . . because of him.
Gratitude and guilt pushed thoughts of Imogen aside. Quickly, he dressed in black trousers, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a rust-colored tunic with his family’s crest sewn on the shoulders. Fastening his sword at his side, Andreus considered going down to the kitchens to get some of the honey rolls his sister was fond of. Then he spotted the guard outside her rooms, ditched the idea of a bribe, and hurried down to the other end of the hallway.
The guard looked like he was barely old enough to have started training let alone be assigned to a post outside the Princess of Eden’s chamber. When the boy didn’t try to stop him, Andreus pushed open the door and hurried inside.
“Your Highness.” Carys’s maid dropped into a deep curtsy, then looked over his shoulder at the open door, which the young guard quickly closed.
“Where’s my sister?”
“Resting, Your Highness. She refused to let me stay with her and had a difficult night.”
Carys had been alone.
Guilt swirled as he walked to his sister’s bedroom and pushed open the ornate double doors.
The room was dim. Candles glowed in the sconces next to the entrance and one near the bed where his sister slept face first on top of the bedcovers, still in the dress she’d been wearing when last he saw her. Then he saw the familiar glass bottle next to her and the shards on the floor.
She’d taken two of them.
A quarter of a bottle of their mother’s Tears of Midnight should have eased the pain. Two years ago, Carys had needed a full bottle to get through the night after the last ball their father had allowed here in the castle. Andreus had known his sister was in trouble before that day. Her eyes had looked glassy. She’d lost weight so her normally thin figure appeared brittle. And even when perfectly brushed her hair had appeared dull and limp. He’d been terrified at how still she was for hours after taking so much of the drink.
After that moment, day by day she’d taken less and less until her eyes were bright again and her brain once more as quick as a flash.
He’d believed her when she said she was done needing the red bottles.
She’d lied.
Carys shifted on the bed, her hand stretched out as if trying to reach something—probably whatever was in one of the vivid dreams filled with cyclones of wind that she’d had since he could remember. She reached out again, then let out a low moan and winced with pain. He waited for his sister to wake, but her eyes didn’t open. Despite the light, the Tears of Midnight had her firmly entrenched in the dark.
Slowly, he sat on the bed next to her and loosened the fastenings on her dress so he could see the punishment she’d taken for him. He shifted the fabric as gently as he could. Still his sister flinched as he examined the angry lines of raised red and purple that ran from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back. Blood was caked over a small section in the center where the strap had struck hard enough to break through the skin.
And under those painful-looking wounds were other scars. No longer red and painful, but reminders nonetheless of the curse he’d been fighting all his life. He’d tended to those wounds when she’d gotten them. He hadn’t been here last night. But surely Juliette should have been.
Damn Carys and her pride.
She would not let her maid clean the cut and apply Madame Jillian’s ointments to the rest. If she’d allowed that, she wouldn’t have needed to be drugged into unconsciousness now. Carys should know better. She should have thought about what would happen today. Their mother would need them to help plan the funeral. She’d want to know why Carys was absent, as would the Council and the rest of the court.
Well, he’d just have to come up with a reason and hope Carys would emerge from this ready to bury their father and Micah tomorrow.
Carefully, he replaced the fabric over his sister’s back and left the chamber. “Take care of Princess Carys’s wounds and see no one comes in here until she’s feeling up to visitors.”
“But, Your Highness, the Princess said—”
“The Princess is . . . deeply asleep. She won’t be aware of your ministrations.” Then he turned and went to find his mother and to do his duty.
The day passed quickly. His mother was distracted as people asked her questions about which rooms to prepare for foreign dignitaries and guests who arrived from the kingdom’s districts for the funeral and the coronation that would follow.
Andreus was thankful Oben was quick with a reply to the questions that everyone else found so important and Andreus had no clue how to deal with. Meanwhile, his mother seemed not to care about anything at all—not even about her daughter’s absence—as she paced the dais of the Hall of Virtues, glancing every few minutes at the gold-and-sapphire throne. The only thing that seemed to catch her attention was when Chief Elder Cestrum appeared flanked by Elder Ulrich and Captain Monteros.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Elder Cestrum said with a bow. “I’m sorry to interrupt the plans for the funeral and your coronation, but Captain Monteros and I were just at the North Tower. All five remaining members of the King’s Guard are dead.”
“No. They can’t be dead.”
Andreus looked behind the Elder and captain and saw Carys standing with her hand on a gold pillar at the main entrance of the Hall of Virtues.
“I thought they were to be questioned before they died,” Carys continued as she stepped into the hall.
Elder Cestrum turned toward Carys and bowed. “They were, Your Highness. The Council was set to interrogate them this morning. But when we went to their cells to retrieve them, we found all five of them on the floors of their cells—dead. It appears they were poisoned.”