by M. Lynn
Golden Chains © 2018 M. Lynn
* * *
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Edited by Melissa Craven
Proofread by Patrick Hodges
Cover by Covers by Combs
Contents
The Six Kingdoms
The Castle of Gaule
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
What’s Next?
Golden Crown
About M. Lynn
To all those having to battle for their own freedom. Not all chains are seen.
The Castle of Gaule
Prologue
Freedom was a dream from a far-off place that no longer existed. It was a concept that made no sense to Matteo Basile. What was choice? He’d never had any. His life was a series of orders, unspoken but wholly felt.
His queen stared down at him with unforgiving eyes. What were they doing past the border? It was his first time setting foot in the kingdom that once belonged to his family, in Bela, but he couldn’t fight the warmth that spread through him. He was home.
“Madame.” He bowed low as he’d been doing his entire life. For he served La Dame of Dracon and would no doubt serve her until the end of his days.
“Matty, my boy.” Warmth filled her voice and when he finally rose to stare into her dazzling emerald eyes, he was transfixed.
Was it her magic? Or simply her beauty?
“How does it feel to be home?” she asked.
What was she expecting from him? His eyes flicked to his father who stood at her side. He gave his son a pleading look.
Warren Basile had been in La Dame’s household since Matteo was a child. He served as an advisor, consort, even a lover. He was known to sit calmly on his seat by the throne as his son was beaten before his eyes. Not with fists. No, nothing in Dracon was ever done without magic.
Matteo inclined his head. “Bela is not my home, your Majesty.”
A smirk spread across her face and she nodded. “It is now.” Raising a hand at her side, she snapped her fingers and her horse was brought forward. They’d camped on the border spanning Dracon and Bela for the night and now stood overlooking a grassy plane.
La Dame leaped into her saddle with a grace that gave no indication of her age. No one in Dracon knew how old their mistress was, but Bela was destroyed centuries ago and the stories claimed she was the one who finally bested the Basiles.
His ancestors.
He climbed into his saddle slowly, his bruised ribs screaming in protest. He’d tried to fight her, escape her magic as it pounded into him the previous night and it only ended in bruises.
As he rode down into his ancestral homeland, he didn’t feel like a Basile. He never had. They were said to be powerful, but his magic sputtered and died every time he tried to call it forth.
La Dame pushed her long, shining black hair over her shoulder and regarded him once again. Her kindness was a lie.
“Soon, Matty, all will be explained.”
“Why are we in Bela?” he asked.
She raised a brow at his audacity in speaking without permission. Her magic whipped over him, slamming him forward against his horse.
“How would you like to meet your family?”
“My…” He didn’t have any family other than his father. They were the last of the Basiles. It was why La Dame kept them close. The legends spoke of power he should have as the first in his generation of the Basiles. Where was that power? Each night, he lay awake praying for it to come. To set him free.
“Your family, yes. You see, there is something your father never told you.” She scrutinized him. His expression must have satisfied her for she nodded. “Your father had an older brother.”
Matteo pulled up on the reins and his horse jolted to a stop. “I have an uncle?”
The familiar pull of her power forced his horse to begin moving again.
“Had. Your uncle is dead.”
The hope that’d risen up in Matteo shattered in his chest. For a moment, he’d thought maybe there was someone to save him from this life.
La Dame continued. “Viktor evaded me his entire life, but his daughter won’t be able to stay away.”
His daughter?
La Dame laughed, all kindness gone, replaced by the wickedness he knew too well. “Yes, my boy. You are not the oldest of your generation. Persinette was born two weeks before you. But, don’t you worry. You will reunite with her soon. I am going to bring Persinette Basile home.”
Home? If the girl had any sense, she’d stay away. Why didn’t La Dame send someone to force her to come?
As if sensing his question, La Dame sighed. “I don’t know what Phillip did, Matteo. When I first issued the curse, he managed to twist it somehow. I cannot bring the cursed one to me against their will. She must choose to come.”
La Dame kicked her horse to speed up, throwing a few final words over her shoulder. “I’m counting on you to show her how to grovel. You’re good at that.”
Matteo raised his face to the bright morning sky. This Persinette must have the power he’d never had. He didn’t know where she was or how La Dame would get her to come, but he hoped more than anything she was stronger than he’d ever been.
Chapter One
The overwhelming reek of urine swirled in the damp air. Etta sat in the same cell she’d helped Edmund escape from. How was that for fate?
How long ago had that been? Days? Weeks? Day bled into night in the underground dungeons.
Heavy footsteps sounded against the stone as they neared. Her first instinct was to press herself against the wall, letting the dark hide her cowering frame.
She squeezed her eyes shut. She was Persinette Basile. She didn’t fear anything.
If only that were true.
Since her capture, the guards tried their best to break her, and they nearly succeeded. She wasn’t the same girl who’d left with Tyson and Edmund in tow.
Her mind drifted to them, trying to block out the guard who’d stopped outside her cell.
Were they okay? Alex might hate her, but at least he hadn’t ordered their capture.
A key rattled in the lock and Etta kept her gaze firmly planted on the ground. She pulled in her knees and hugged them to her chest to protect herself.
The guard laughed. She recognized the cruel sound. He’d been there often.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t cry for her bruised skin or aching limbs, but for the king who ordered it. He wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.
She cried out and clamped her teeth down on her lower lip, tasting blood. She’d never used her magic against any of them. Her greatest crime was being born.
He kicked her again, and all strength left her as she fell back. A meaty hand wrapped around her arm, wrenching her off the ground. She struggled to get her feet beneath her as a fist pounded into her stomach.
She’d taken beatings before, mostly when fighting her father, but she hadn’t been helpless then. At the thought of her father, a sob racked her body.
“Lance,” a voice cut through the dark. One she recognized as well.
Lance released her and her legs shook, but she remained upright. He turned to Geoff.
“You’re relieved for the night,” Geoff said. “Go get some sleep.”
Lance grunted and left the way he’d come.
Etta refused to be grateful to Geoff because she wasn’t any better off with him than Lance. He stepped toward her in a flash and she pressed her back to the wall.
One side of his mouth curved up, and he cocked his head. “The king’s protector is scared.”
She tried to shake her head but it wouldn’t move.
“Fitting. You should fear me, girl. Your father killed my king. You betrayed yours.” He slammed his palm against the wall next to her head and pressed himself up against her. His sour breath was hot on her face as he leaned in. “It’s my turn to be at the king’s side now.” His hand skimmed down her arm, inching over the front of her filthy shirt. “I can see why he liked you though.”
She stood stock still as he continued to explore her. His touch sent a shiver down her spine and her breath lodged in her throat.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat.
He laughed and pushed away from her. “You aren’t worth it. Even the king agrees.”
Her lip quivered, but she held in her tears.
“He hasn’t come to see you, has he?” Geoff asked, spreading his hands wide. “I’m all you’ve got.”
Another guard appeared and dropped a wooden bowl of grainy mush at her feet. It spattered her legs, and she stared down into it until her cell was locked once more.
When she was alone again, she sank back to the floor and curled around herself. In her state, she couldn’t even feel her magic. The only thing that broke through the numbness was the tug of the curse connecting her to a man she hoped she’d never see again.
She wished he wasn’t the same man she dreamed of every time she closed her eyes.
Strip back the layers of lies she’d lived her life by, take away the persona she’d crafted, and all that was left was a shattered girl with nothing left to give.
The inner gates of the palace remained closed, cutting them off from the people living beyond. King Alexandre knew it was a matter of security, but it didn’t seem right. He nodded to the guards in the tower to open the gate before marching through.
Geoff walked at his side as he’d been doing for weeks. He wasn’t officially the new protector. Alex couldn’t yet bear to name him that, but he’d taken on the role.
“How is the prisoner?” He didn’t need to voice her name to be understood.
Geoff shrugged. “She’s a hard one, your Majesty.”
“Geoff, for weeks we’ve been offering to move her from the dungeons and for weeks she’s refused. I’m at the end of my patience.” Unable to face her himself, he’d set Geoff to make a deal with her and he’d failed. Just the thought of Etta sitting in that cell was enough to steal his breath. “What more can we do?”
“Do, sire? Her crimes are grave. You’d be better served by letting her rot.”
Alex suppressed his growl. Geoff voiced what many of the people thought. But she was Etta. He stopped walking and stood at the crest of the grassy incline. A narrow road meandered along the hillside connecting the palace with the ruined village beyond. He closed his eyes and saw her as she’d been that day in the forest. Her rare smile. Her golden hair. How was he supposed to reconcile that girl with the one he now kept as prisoner?
Anders joined Alex and Geoff as Alex surveyed the land beyond the castle, reminding himself what it was he was protecting.
“We must command the nobles near the western border to gather their forces.”
Anders shook his head with a scowl. “The village is already lost to us.”
They’d received a messenger that morning who informed them of an attack on one of the villages near the western edge of Gaule, near the border of Bela.
“There are still people there and they need aid.” Alex turned back to look up at the great walls of his castle. How long would they remain intact once the magic folk came for them?
“Sire.” Anders put a hand on Alex’s arm to stop him. “Let Duchess Moreau deal with the people. No need for others to call their men from the fields quite yet.” He paused. “There’s more. The attackers seem to have taken up Persinette’s name as some sort of rallying cry. They know you have her and to them, she is a symbol. It’s best to distance yourself from it. Once it is dealt with and the crops are in, you can have your army. Your nobles will see to it.”
Alex shielded his eyes against the sun and regarded his two guards. Were they right? Waiting could cost them dearly.
“He’s right, your Majesty,” Geoff said. “There are more pressing matters than attacks on the border. Our reports indicate activity in Bela.”
“Bela is a desolate land. No people reside there.”
“That used to be true, but we now know La Dame has moved her court to that so-called desolate land.”
Alex breathed out slowly, reminding himself he was king. It didn’t matter if he was prepared for it. War was coming. A war they couldn’t win.
“Why the devil would she be in Bela?”
“Recruitment?” Anders asked. “Maybe she’s hoping the magic folk flood from Gaule to her forces.”
Alex considered that. The histories claimed La Dame was an even bigger foe of Bela than Gaule. It didn’t make sense.
“We need eyes across the border. Send someone.”
“Yes, sire,” Geoff said. “I think Lance will suit.”
Alex turned to walk back through the gates and pressed a hand to his side. It still ached with phantom pains. For weeks, he’d been sleeping fitfully and then waking in agony. Part of him thought it was guilt. Another part knew it was magic.
“Are you well, sire?” Anders asked.
Alex ignored his question. “Have Duke Renoir send a small force to aid Duchess Moreau in the villages that have been attacked. Make it known that he must also provide healers. Then I’d like one-hundred royal guardsmen prepared to march.” He met his captain’s gaze. “You will lead them.”
“But you need me here,” Anders argued.
Alex shook his head. Getting the captain away from his scheming sister would do both of them good.
“I gave you a command, Captain.”
Anders scowled as he issued a short bow and walked back the way they’d come.
“I tend to agree with the captain.” Geoff didn’t bother with the respect Alex deserved. “The people near the border have long harbored magic folk. We should leave them to their fates.”
Alex’s eyes blazed as he rounded on his guard. “Get out of my sight.”
“But, sire, I’m your protector.” His words cut through Alex.
He took a step toward Geoff and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. “Say that again and I’ll run this straight through your heart.”
Geoff’s jaw dropped open. He stood still for a stunned moment before turning and walking away with quickened steps.
Alex scrubbed a hand across his face. Protector. Only one person could hold that title and she’d betrayed him.
He didn’t understand how the Etta who’d been at his side was actually Persinette. His oldest friend. The girl who had grown up with him only to be ex
iled and hunted. But she wasn’t a girl any longer, and she’d come for her revenge. Only, he still didn’t know what that revenge was. She had appeared loyal. She saved Edmund and Tyson. How did that fit into the monster he wanted to believe she was?
Alex’s stormy face made servants scurry away as his feet took him to the stables. They seemed empty now without the two horses that should have been there. Tyson’s was a prince’s horse, beautiful and strong. Verité was an ornery beast.
Weeks had passed since they left and he still couldn’t adjust to a palace that now seemed devoid of love.
He hadn’t visited his mother, but she remained confined to her rooms for hiding Persinette’s true identity and sending Tyson away from the palace under the traitor’s care. Yet, she wasn’t the one who plagued his thoughts day and night.
It was the girl who sat in his dungeons. The one he’d thought he loved. The one he didn’t know at all.
He stood beside the horse pen, gripping the metal fence so hard his knuckles turned white. “Dammit,” he breathed, hanging his head. “Etta.” He needed to see her, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when he was still so angry. He hated himself for leaving her there for weeks. Alex wanted to move her back into her palace rooms to continue her confinement there, but he hadn’t issued the plea directly to her himself.
“Your Majesty,” a small voice sounded behind him.
He sighed and turned to take in his betrothed. Amalie held such a delicate beauty it was as if she might blow away in the wind.
“Lady Amalie.” His voice softened. “I’ve told you before to call me Alex.”
Her forehead scrunched, but she nodded. “My father told me to seek you out.”
