Recovered? From losing Imogen? Elder Cestrum, too, would feel his blade when all was over. “I am ready to do my duty and participate in the next trial.”
“As soon as the Princess arrives . . . ” Elder Cestrum shifted his focus. “Ah, there she is. Once the Masters tell me they are ready, we can begin.”
Andreus shifted to look at his sister, who was walking slowly with the foreign lord at her side. Her hair was pulled off her face, her skin paler than usual. Even from here Andreus could see the glassiness in her eyes and the pain that each step caused her. His mother’s Tears of Midnight suppressed pain. So perhaps it wasn’t any wonder a body that had been used to feeling nothing for so long would interpret each step as something filled with agony.
Despite the lift of her chin and her straight back, Andreus could tell his twin was suffering. He looked back at the dark blood stain on the stone and any residual guilt faded away. Imogen must have suffered before she died. It was good his sister would, too.
As she called his name, he turned and headed toward the platforms. He would not let her manipulate him with her slippery words. He’d made a choice. This would end. And it was going to end today.
Elder Cestrum beckoned to them both. “This trial will test two kinds of strength: the ability to inspire your people to follow you, and the physical strength it takes to lead them when it is time to fight. You each will step onto your designated platforms and inspire the people in the city below with your words. When the speeches are done and a point awarded to the one who the people display their affection for, a gong will sound, signaling it is time to use the rope ladders to climb down the wall to the steps below. The winner will be the one who safely reaches the bottom first.”
Andreus stiffened.
“You can’t expect the Prince and Princess of Eden to climb down this wall,” the foreign lord shouted as he stepped closer to Carys. “They could die.”
The wall was over forty feet tall. Snow was falling from the sky. Darkness would soon be upon them, and the curse could show itself when he was too high up for anything to help him. And then, yes. He could lose his grip and die on the stone below. But so could Carys.
“Each day a monarch rules on a throne is filled with risk,” Elder Cestrum said with a smile. “My nephew assures me he could make the climb down without falling. Of course, if the Prince or the Princess want to refuse, they can nullify the Trials . . .”
And Garret would end up on the throne.
Andreus stepped to his platform, turned toward his sister, and said, “I am happy to prove that I am my father’s son. I will do what it takes to win and keep my throne.”
“You can’t,” the foreign lord shouted to Carys above the pounding of the windmills.
Carys stared at Andreus for several long seconds and said, “I have no choice.”
“Very well.” Elder Cestrum looked to the Masters standing next to the blue platform. “Are we ready?”
The Masters nodded.
“Good. Then Prince Andreus and Princess Carys, I ask you to take your places. Prince Andreus will speak when the first gong sounds. Once he is done, Princess Carys will begin. Two gongs will signal the start of the physical part of the trial. All of us on the Council will be watching from the bottom. I wish you the best of luck.”
With that Elder Cestrum headed for the stairs. Lord Garret stopped, leaned down and whispered something in Carys’s ear, then lumbered behind.
Andreus stepped closer to the battlements and could hear the noise of the crowd that had been masked by the churning of the windmills. The square below the steps was filled with people, as were the streets and the rooftops. A cheer went up as they spotted his face, which helped quell the nerves he felt as he ascended the four steps that led to the top of the yellow platform.
His stomach lurched as another cheer went up and he looked at the rope ladder that was affixed to an iron rod in the middle of the platform and then disappeared over the battlements. Which is exactly what he would have to use. He was used to looking down from the height of the wall, but climbing down it . . . The Council was right about one thing—it was going to take a lot of strength to overcome the fear of stepping over that edge and even more determination to make it to the ground with the temperature dropping and the snow falling around them.
He turned to his sister, who was struggling to unfasten her cloak. The foreign Lord Errik stepped forward to help her, but she shook her head. The cloak finally fell away and Andreus stared at her with surprise.
His sister was wearing pants. Black and fitted and something their father would have had her flogged for if she had made an appearance in them while he was alive. She was wearing a white-sleeved tunic that hung just below the black belt at her hips, from which both silver stilettos hung. But it was the fitted vest—half deep blue, half yellow—that was the biggest surprise. Not just her color. But both of their colors. The colors of all of Eden.
Shaking off any assistance from her foreign friend, his sister walked stiffly to the platform, took a deep breath, and one step at a time made it to the top.
Despite the cold she was sweating. And when she looked at him and held his gaze, he could see the pain swimming in her eyes as she yelled his name.
“You will pay for what you have done,” he said as the Master hurried around the platform, checking the system that would carry his and his sister’s voices, amplifying the sound for all to hear.
“Imogen had Micah and Father killed,” his sister shouted. “I left a note asking you to meet me so I could tell you what I’d learned, only she came instead.”
“You can say anything. She is not here to defend herself anymore. Because of you.”
A gong sounded, cutting off whatever else his sister might have tried to say to sway him. Adderton was to blame for Micah and Father’s deaths. If Carys thought her tall tales were going to harden his heart toward Imogen, she was wrong.
Refusing to look at his sister, Andreus stepped closer to the edge of the battlements so he could look down at the people below.
Taking a deep breath, Andreus angled himself so his words would travel into the iron cone the Masters had suspended above the platform. Then, hearing Imogen’s words about what a King should be echoing in his memory, he said, “For years I have worked beside the Masters of Light on these walls. I chose to study the windmills and the power they bring because I wanted to help keep Garden City safe. And that is what I want to do as King: keep Eden safe. I will lead the Masters in new ways to ward off the Xhelozi. I will insist the guard seek out their dens in the summer and cut each one of them down until there is no longer anything to fear from the mountains. And with the aid of the seven High Lords and the virtues their districts represent, I will see that the war with Adderton is won. The orb of Eden will shine more brightly than before as a symbol to all kingdoms of what is possible when the seven virtues are heeded and the people walk in the light.”