The fire was burning. Now had she done enough to rise once the flames burned out?
She dragged a table in front of her door before taking to her bed. The hunting party could return, and her uncle might choose to visit while she slept.
But he didn’t come and neither did sleep. No amount of meditation could calm the anxiety churning harder and faster with each passing minute. The cut on her arm throbbed. Her hands ached from where she had scrubbed them with lye soap. Dawn, and the effect of her actions would soon be upon her.
She remembered the Tears of Midnight and raced to the drawer of her dressing table. With shaking hands, Betrice withdrew the tiny flask. She consumed only a thimbleful. A strange licorice flavor spread over her tongue.
And then she remembered no more.
She jolted awake and found the sun streaming through the windows. And her maid was desperately calling her name and pounding on the door.
“Lady Betrice, you have to wake up. The King and the High Lord are holding audience. They expect you right away! Wake up!”
The maid raced to get Betrice tied into a cap-sleeved red and yellow gown. She apologized that there was not time to send for a tray, but Betrice was glad to have an empty stomach when she joined the crowd of nobles streaming into the Great Hall of the Keep.
She walked past Oben, whose expression did not change upon seeing her. It was as if they had never met. Her uncle was already standing on the dais next to his shining high-backed silver chair. She was told each High Lord had a similar seat—a gift from a long-gone King to show his support of those chosen to guide their part of Eden. Banners representing each of the kingdom’s virtues lined the Hall’s walls. The banner of red and gold representing the virtue of charity that hung behind the silver chair was much larger than she remembered.
The room went silent as Prince Ulron strode down the center aisle of the Hall, flanked by men wrapped in mail shirts and the blue and yellow tunics of the King’s Guard. The guardsman lined the floor in front of the dais as Prince Ulron took his place on the top. The prince scanned the crowd in front of him as her uncle’s steward moved to the bottom of the first step of the dais and announced, “His Majesty King Adham, Defender of Virtues, Keeper of Light, ruler of Eden.”
More guardsmen accompanied the monarch as Betrice dropped into a deep bow along with those around her. The King ascended the dais, but did not sit as was expected. Instead, he turned and said, “Yesterday, it was brought to my attention that there is one in our midst who seeks to undermine the choices I have made as King. There is one who thinks she can with one stroke destroy the foundation of the peace I want for our land.”
Prince Ulron turned his head and looked directly at her. Betrice clenched her hands at her sides and resisted the urge to flee. The guards at the doors would stop her. Oben would not give aid. No one would.
In a way, she was relieved at the way her story would end. She placed her hand on the bodice of her dress and felt the bulk of the ring hanging between her breasts. She would accept the consequences of her choices with her head held high.
She straightened her back, standing at her full height, and met Prince Ulron’s stare as the King announced, “Bring Lady Pardana forward.”
“No!” someone shrieked as several members of the King’s Guard dragged a woman with tangled auburn hair down the center aisle and threw her on the base of the steps. The King’s retainers gasped in horror in front of Betrice and blocked her view. Even on tiptoes she couldn’t see the woman who desperately begged, “I have done nothing wrong, Your Majesty. I promise you, I am loyal to Eden. Tarak! Tell them, I am loyal. Tarak!”
“Quiet!” the King bellowed. “There were letters from Adderton found under the rug in your rooms.” King Adham nodded and a herald stepped forward with a piece of parchment in his hands.
“My dearest daughter, Pardana,” the herald read as everyone else went quiet, and Pardana stopped fighting and went still. “I am glad to know you are well and that you are sowing the seeds that will soon produce fruit. When the Throne of Light is returned to the true and most virtuous rulers, you will be rewarded. Stay strong and walk in the light. The hopes of all in Adderton are with you.”
“No!” Pardana shrieked and tried to pull herself free. “This isn’t right. It isn’t true. Tarak!”
“Let it be known that any plots against the throne will be ferreted out and let your head serve as a message to the Kingdom of Adderton that Eden will no longer tolerate its duplicity. Snakes who lay in wait to strike will be flushed from the bushes and destroyed.”
There was the whisper of steel freeing from a scabbard.
“I am innocent, I tell you. Inno—”
Then the sound of the blade connecting with flesh before the two thuds made Betrice’s stomach heave—Pardana’s body and then her head as they separately hit the ground.
“And let it be known,” the king continued. “Since it is now doubtful that Adderton has been negotiating in good faith, my son will not agree to the terms of the betrothal agreement. Instead, his bride will be from a family whose loyalty to the crown of Eden has never been in doubt. I give you Eden’s future queen—the niece of High Lord Xavier, Lady Betrice.”
Heads turned in her direction. Whispers echoed like the voices in her nightmares.
“Lady Betrice.” Prince Ulron stood at the front of the dais with his hand outstretched. Those standing in front of her parted, giving her a clear view of the blood pooling around the headless body of Captain Tarak’s wife.
Bile filled her mouth as she lifted her chin. She was careful to pick up her skirts as she walked over rivulets of blood and climbed the steps to take Prince Ulron’s hand. From there she could see the woman’s head. Next to the steward’s feet, Pardana’s sightless eyes stared upward as if in shock as the chamber erupted in cheers. Her uncle shouted something about another feast, but she was barely listening as Ulron led her toward the side door of the hall and into the dim hallway beyond.
“You are surprised, Lady Betrice,” Prince Ulron said quietly. “I do hope you aren’t disappointed at the announcement. You did say you wished to join our party when we rode to Garden City.”
Yes. Yes, she had.
“Of course, I’m not disappointed,” she said as the Prince watched her with his intense gaze. “I just . . .”
“You didn’t expect to become a princess?”
“I didn’t think you would believe me.”
He smiled, softening his hard, handsome features. “I didn’t know what to believe, but while I might not always see beyond the obvious, I do not ignore any threat. I had my guards search Captain Tarak and his wife’s rooms.”
Her heart thudded hard.
Prince Ulron turned and paced away from her as he explained, “Lady Pardana had poisons as well as an Adderton-made dagger—a weapon favored by Adderton assassins. The combination sealed her fate and appears to have changed mine.”
She felt the fire she had thought dead burning anew. “I am glad you heeded my warning, Your Highness. I would never want you to come to harm.”
Prince Ulron closed the space between them and placed a hand on her shoulder. “This court is filled with schemes to acquire influence and power. The Bastians will not disappear just because the heads of Pardana and her husband are delivered to them.” Ulron’s heavy hand was gentle but firm as it traveled down the bare skin of her arm. “I require someone at my side with the skills to unravel these plots before they have a chance to be spun to fruition.”
“I am happy to serve you, Your Highness. You need not make me your princess.”
“Perhaps not. But one who spots schemes is just as likely to be able to create them. I find it is easier to trust someone whose fate is tied to my own.” He pulled her closer and leaned down so his face was inches from her. “As my queen, you will bear my sons, stand by my side and if I fall, so will you.” His lips whispered against hers before he stepped back. “After what has transpired, my father has decided we shall lea
ve your uncle’s hospitality today. In case Captain Tarak and his wife’s plot extended further than the two of them, we will not be taking additional swords from your uncle’s garrison with us when we ride.”
Oben’s face flashed before her as she thought of what lay ahead.
“I trust you will not object if I select two or three attendants to take the journey with me.” She smiled. “I, like you, prefer to surround myself with those whose fates are tied to mine.”
Blood pounded in Betrice’s ears as Prince Ulron considered her then gave a curt nod. “Of course, my lady. Just make sure you are ready when it is time to leave.” He leaned forward, brushed his lips against her cheek and whispered, “Remember, I do not like being disappointed.”
“I am not the kind of lady who forgets.”
“You sent for me, Lady Betrice.”
She turned. Oben stood in the open doorway. The stony resolve she had come to expect had been replaced by an air of defeat.
Good.
She looked at her maid. “Get your own bags and say farewell to your family. I will meet you in the courtyard in an hour. Don’t be late.”
The girl bobbed a curtsy and scurried around Oben to prepare herself for the journey.
Betrice picked up one of the white gowns she’d worn in the Village of Night and carefully folded it before placing it in one of the four open leather packs on her bed. She would leave nothing of herself behind when she quit this place. Not the person she was now or the girl she had been.
When she finished fastening the straps of the pack, she said, “Come in and shut the door.”
She heard the shuffle of feet and the click of the latch before turning. “Do you still wish to go to Garden City with the King?”
Oben’s jaw clenched. “The King has decided to forgo taking any of the High Lord’s men into his own garrison, my lady.”
“Yes. My uncle’s men will all be remaining here,” she said, slowly crossing the room. “My men, however, are more than welcome to make the journey.”
His eyes flashed as he limped toward her. “Your men.”
“My maid is preparing for the journey as we speak, but I have decided I have need of a chamberlain—someone to guard me, manage my personal affairs and help me learn the secrets of the people who reside in the Palace of Winds.” She looked up into the face that had compelled her from the first. “Do you know of anyone who might be interested in such a position?”
“I might, my lady,” he said.
“Of course,” she said, putting a hand on the center of his chest—atop her uncle’s crest. “I would require an oath.”
Oben tensed beneath her touch. “What kind of oath?”
“An oath that says he is first and foremost loyal to me above all else.”
“I have already given an oath—”
“One that I would never ask you to break,” she told him. “I will help you fulfill your oath, if you give me your word not to act until the time is right. You want vengeance for a life lost. If you pledge yourself to me, we can both get what we desire.”
He cocked his head to the side. “You will be a princess of the realm—away from your uncle’s authority. What more could you want, Lady Betrice?”
She reached up and pulled his lips down to hers. “What do you think?” she whispered.
For a second neither of them moved as they breathed mouth against mouth, waiting for one of them to act. When they did, it was at the same time. Oben’s mouth pressed against hers, as her lips parted fiercely to match him. His arms pulled her against his chest and she wove her hands into his thick hair as if daring him to try and pull away. Her head spun, and her heart raced faster and faster until she pulled back and stepped away.
“I ride within the hour,” she said. Oben stood breathing hard in front of her. He was strong, but she was stronger. Together they would be unbreakable. “And I require an answer. Will you give me your oath and come with me to the Palace of Winds? Will you guard me with your life?”
Oben’s dark eyes searched hers. “I will if you answer my question. What is it that you want? And what will you be willing to do in order to get it?”
She wanted what she realized she didn’t have the minute her uncle came into this chamber with his knife and his men. “I want control. Jurisdiction over my own life.” Holding up her hand, she admired the stain of ink on the inside of her thumb she hadn’t been able to remove after she’d finished placing the note she’d written under Captain Tarak’s rug. “And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”
“So am I, my lady,” Oben said with a low bow.
When he rose, Betrice corrected him. “I am not your lady.” She pulled the chain from where it hung between her breasts and unfastened the ring from the links. Holding it out to him, she said, “I am a queen.”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOELLE CHARBONNEAU has performed in opera and musical theater productions across Chicagoland. She is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Testing trilogy as well as two adult mystery series. Her YA books have appeared on the Indie Next List, the YALSA Top Ten Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers list, and state reading lists across the country. Her newest standalone YA thriller, Need, has been optioned for a feature film and is currently in development.
www.joellecharbonneau.com
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BOOKS BY JOELLE CHARBONNEAU
Dividing Eden
Into the Garden
Eden Conquered
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2017 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ISBN 978-0-06-245588-8
EPub Edition © September 2017 ISBN 9780062455888
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FIRST EDITION
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Joelle Charbonneau, Into the Garden
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