Dividing Eden (Dividing Eden #1)
Joelle Charbonneau
DEDICATION
For my son, Max, who makes my heart smile.
You certainly are not the doom.
1
Freedom was a myth.
Carys’s brother Andreus didn’t think so. He said a person could feel free even when walls surrounded him.
Carys loved her twin, but he was wrong. Freedom was a mirage. It taunted and promised a great deal as it hung just out of reach.
Back when they were young, her brother loved pointing out the women carrying trays of bread through one of the city’s squares—or the commoners’ children chasing each other, laughter echoing through the narrow alleys. They were all surrounded by walls, and yet they were happy. The walls kept them safe. The walls made them feel strong and secure. That, he argued, was freedom.
As they sat on the battlements he would sketch designs for a new windmill while she watched the guards practice, picking up tips on how to help Andreus improve his skill in combat.
Those who lived in the town below the Palace of Winds didn’t understand that danger came in many guises. Not only in the form of darkness, or winter, or the Xhelozi that hunted during the cold months. Those were dangers that could be seen. Anticipated. Defeated. The massive gray stones erected at the perimeter of the town kept those dangers at bay. The white stones that bordered the castle grounds high above on the plateau doubly secured the powerful and those under their protection. But the walls were a double-edged sword. Even as they pushed back outside dangers, they kept in the things that made Carys wish for some other kind of life. One that didn’t require she hide everything she was.
Carys placed her hand on the trunk of the Tree of Virtues and bowed her head, pretending to ask it for some blessing or other, as girls did when they wanted a husband or a baby or a pretty ribbon for their hair.
Foolish girls. They thought the tree, like the walls, was a sign of safety and blessing. How anything planted in the middle of town to commemorate the slaughter of an entire royal family symbolized anything positive was beyond Carys. Of course, in Eden, it was only Carys’s family who need worry about that fate. Perspective was everything.
Duty to simpering femininity done, Carys turned toward the royal guards. “Let’s go.”
She kept her eyes on their backs as she walked, not looking left or right. Not meeting the eyes of those who fell into bows or curtsies as they noticed her.
The streets beneath her feet were soon to be paved white to match the castle walls. It had been her father’s order. He said the white would show the city dwellers were as virtuous as those who lived above. He insisted the work would begin once the war was over. Carys supposed the Council of Elders would figure out how to keep the horses from mucking up the white of those stones. A fitting job for people as virtuous as animal droppings.
She caught sight of her destination and hurried her steps toward the tailor’s shop on the far western square. “Stay outside,” she ordered the guards as she walked to the door.
“How long will you be, Your Highness?” the freckle-faced guard asked.
Carys turned and stared at him for a long moment. She watched as his face turned red, making his freckles almost pop off his skin. Carys had that effect on people. It would amuse her, if their discomfort weren’t so clear.
When the hand at her guard’s side began to tremble she answered, “I shall be exactly the amount of time I require and not a second longer. And if you question me again, I shall see to it that your commanding officer teaches you the value of holding your tongue.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The guard swallowed hard and looked down at the ground. “I apologize for any offense, Highness.”
The apology was a start. If she were her mother, it would also be his end. But she wasn’t her mother. She could only hope he’d remember this moment. If he learned from embarrassment, he might have a chance to survive behind the white walls. If not, he had only himself to blame.
Gathering her skirts, Carys stepped out of the last rays of sunlight, into the tailor’s shop, and shut the door. As soon as the latch clicked, Carys heard a familiar voice. “Welcome, Princess Carys. We’ve been expecting you.”
Carys smiled. She felt herself relax in the warmth of the greeting and of the fire crackling in the hearth on the opposite side of the stone room. A large mass of tawny fur was curled into a ball close to the fire. The fur ball opened its eyes, blinked twice, and then went back to sleep. No bows or curtsying from felines. They had no enemies to avenge, power to amass, or familial interests to protect, so they had little need to curry favor. How did cats get so lucky?
She nodded to the reed-thin man, who, straightened to his full height, barely reached the tip of her nose. The lines etched into his face were deeper than they had been the last time she saw him. Life had gotten harder in Garden City with the war. “Goodman Marcus,” she said with fondness. “Thank you for accommodating my request so quickly.”
They both turned at the sound of footsteps pounding the stairs. Carys barely had time to brace herself before Larkin threw her arms around her and hugged her tight.
“Daughter.” Goodman Marcus’s voice was sharp. “You forget yourself. The two of you are no longer children.”
“Pity, since we both were so adorable when we were small. Weren’t we, Your Highness?” Larkin stepped back, tossed her mass of long, frizzy dark curls, and laughed the way Carys so often wished she could.
“Royalty always strives for dignity,” Carys replied with mock sincerity, “which means we are far too controlled to ever be called adorable.”
“I’m certain you looked very dignified the day you fell into that pile of horse manure, Your Highness,” Larkin said with a deep curtsy.
Carys laughed. How could she not? “I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t pushed me.”
“I didn’t push you,” Larkin said. “I was giving Prince Andreus a well-deserved shove. You, Princess, simply obstructed my path.”
Goodman Marcus’s eye twitched at his daughter’s antics. Carys remembered that look well from the days when he would bring Larkin to the palace to help with the court’s dress fittings. She was too enthusiastic and filled with energy to carefully pin hems and display bolts of silk. Typically, Larkin ended up feeling her father’s hand before being put in a corner to wait until his work was complete. A corner was where Andreus found and rescued her.