by M. Lynn
He snorted, his breath blowing the hair from her face.
Her smile was weak as she struggled to sit and took in the beast clearly for the first time. It really was him. “How are you here, my friend?” His amber eyes met hers as he lowered his head. Reaching out her hand, she stretched her fingers against his soft neck in disbelief.
He stomped his foot, and she gripped his mane to pull herself to her feet, leaning on Verité for support. She rested her forehead against him and smiled. “I missed you.” Tears pricked her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s you. Where did you come from? Where are Edmund and Tyson?”
Fear gripped her heart. If Verite was there, that meant something could have happened to them.
What was she supposed to do now? When she left to go after Alex, she’d have to search for them as well. If they were… she couldn’t even face the thought.
Darkness closed in around them. “Come on, boy.” She tugged on his mane, her voice shaking. “We don’t want to be out here after they close the gates for the night.” She stumbled over her own feet but managed not to fall as she led him through the gates. He followed without question, as always, his trust in her was complete.
By the time she made it to the stables, only lanterns lit the doorways. A stable hand greeted her at the door.
“Darn,” he said. “Where’d ye find the bastard biter?”
Etta stepped around him without a word.
“Mademoiselle, I can take ‘im from here. It’s my job, yeah?”
He tried to step between Etta and Verité but Verité snapped his teeth and the man jumped back with a yelp.
“I’m taking an empty stall.” Etta continued walking, forcing her face not to show the twinge of each step. “The only person that comes near this horse is me.”
The man gaped at her as she led Verité into a stall at the end of the row and set about obtaining grain from the feedbags and water from the barrels along the wall. Verité set in to his feast hungrily.
Etta slid the door shut and peered over the top. The rotting wood came up to her chest, giving none of the privacy she wanted, but she was too exhausted to care. Sitting down against the wall, she closed her eyes. After a few moments, Verité lowered himself beside her and she was able to sleep for the first time since Alex was taken.
The crunch of teeth biting into an apple filled the air, but Etta wasn’t ready to open her eyes. She laid against Verité’s warm side, his broad body a protection against anything that would come—including intruders intent on waking her in the wee hours of the morning.
She slid one eye open, barely registering the lithe blond man sitting atop the half wall of the stall. Relaxing into sleep once again, her thoughts filled with Edmund and how weird it was he’d returned to the palace.
Her eyes sprung open, and she bolted upright. “Edmund.”
He bit into his apple again and grinned, letting juice dribble down his handsome face. It was the most precious thing she’d ever seen because he was there. He was alive. He’d come.
“I see my newly made friend abandoned me for you.” He gestured to the horse who’d risen to his feet so quickly, he’d almost thrown Etta to the ground.
“He was my friend first.”
What did you say first to someone whose very presence allowed you to breathe again?
Edmund swung his legs over the wall and jumped into the stall before tossing the remaining apple to Verité. “Ah, I can’t deny the truth in that, but we’ve come to an understanding, him and I.”
She climbed to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I keep him supplied with apples, sometimes carrots, and he leaves all of my digits intact.”
“You’ve been spoiling him, then?” She laughed. “I won’t forgive you for fattening my horse.”
“Your horse?”
“Yes, what do I have to do to reclaim him? Defeat you in a duel? Again.”
He shrugged. “Not this time. Palace life has probably made you soft.”
Her lips pressed together to suppress a laugh. The feeling was fleeting and on its heels came guilt. How could she laugh and joke when Alex was in danger?
When her smile fell, Edmund crushed her to him. They clung to each other as if everything around them was falling away.
“We’ll get him back,” Edmund whispered hoarsely. “I promise you that.”
“You came back.”
“I had to.”
She nodded against his chest, taking comfort in the fact that he was the one person who understood what it felt like to lose the true Alexandre Durand.
Her body tensed up as a new spasm struck her. Edmund stepped back and gripped her arms as he met her gaze. “What is it?”
“They’re moving again.” Tears hung in her lashes. “I can feel it.”
“The curse?”
She nodded, gritting her teeth to keep from calling out. Edmund pulled her back to him. “We must leave as soon as we can.”
He released her and turned to the bag he’d left hanging on the door. Pulling out another apple, he glanced back at her. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Edmund, I’ve been living in the palace. I have access to the kitchens.”
He shifted his eyes away sheepishly. “I know some of what has befallen you, Etta. I kind of thought you were still a prisoner, and I’d have to mount a rescue.”
“I was imprisoned on the king’s order. You would have defied Alex for me?”
“To save him, yes. Even if it was only to save him from himself. You didn’t deserve anything you endured. I would have been here sooner if I could.”
She accepted the apple he extended her way. “You’ve missed a lot.”
“So have you,” he countered.
Biting down slowly, she studied his face. He didn’t look changed, but life outside the palace was hard when there was no safe place for their kind.
A breeze blew through the stall, alleviating some of the horse’s stink and she smiled.
“Why do you think we’ll be able to help him?” she asked.
He paused for a moment, swallowing a bite. “Because I know where he is.”
“How could you possibly?”
He brushed a hand through his long blonde locks. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you, but first, we must begin our trek. I arrived in the village yesterday.” He patted Verité’s side. “This beast ran off the minute our backs were turned.”
“Our?” Relief rushed through her. “Tyson is with you.”
His eyes strained and he shook his head. “I have a young healer traveling with me.”
Etta snapped her eyes to his. “Who?”
“We met her during the attack on the village. Her name is Maiya.”
The world began to spin. Maiya was supposed to be removed from all of this. “What about her father?”
Edmund thought for a moment. “I came upon a group of magic folk traveling toward the border. After I convinced them not to cross it, I told them where I was headed. Maiya said she needed to help. Something about making up for betraying a friend. Her father tried to stop her, but she’s stubborn. He was needed to lead the group to safety so he and Maiya parted ways.”
“What about Tyson? Where is he?” Etta’s hand shot out to clutch at the wall.
“We need to get you to Maiya.” Edmund ignored her question and put a hand on Etta’s back and she stepped out of his reach.
“Her healing won’t help me. I’m not injured.”
“We have to try.” He opened the stall and ducked out to get a saddle from the hook on the far wall. Etta struggled to throw a blanket over Verité’s back. When Edmund returned, he took it from her and finished saddling the horse before lifting her easily onto it. He climbed on behind her and snapped the reins. The stable hands jumped out of the way as they thundered out onto the street.
Edmund held an arm firmly around her waist and it was the only thing keeping her from falling.
Verité was different
from other horses. Even in her weakened state, when Etta rode him, she felt inspired. It was the same connection that existed when magic flowed from her fingers.
Edmund steered Verité out through the gates and onto the road. The last time Etta had been to the village was during the attack. Since then, it had begun to come back to life.
“I thought the village was destroyed,” she said, awe filling her voice.
“I had as well.” Edmund’s chuckle vibrated against her back. “When Maiya and I arrived, we planned to hide out in the ruins of the town, but those had been cleaned up. People were returning and beginning to rebuild.”
“I wish Alex could see this.”
“Me too.”
They turned onto the familiar road where Maiya’s healer shop had been located. The building had stood strong during the attack. They tied Verité in the alleyway. The irony of it being the alley where she’d tied Edmund in weeds upon their initial meeting was lost in a cloud of pain.
Edmund slung her arm over his shoulders and half carried her into building where Maiya waited.
Maiya rushed toward them. “Oh my, is she okay?”
“It’s the curse,” Etta bit out as Edmund helped her onto a bed.
“I don’t know if I can heal that.” Maiya shifted her uncertain gaze to Edmund.
“Try,” he pleaded.
Maiya nodded and stood beside the bed. Her steady hands raised the bottom of Etta’s shirt to reveal bruised skin.
“I can heal these.” She pressed her palms to the discolored skin and the throbbing in Etta’s abdomen began to fade. Pale skin shone brightly under her touch.
Etta breathed out heavily and Maiya moved to the head of the bed. She lifted the collar of Etta’s shirt and slid chilly fingers down to place them where her heart beat against her chest bone. She closed her eyes as concentration creased her brow.
The tightening on Etta’s heart began to ease, and she peered up at her friend. “Thank you.”
Maiya took a step back and wrung her hands together. “I wouldn’t thank me yet. You can’t possibly believe my magic can defeat even a part of the curse. The pain will return.”
Etta sat up, free of pain for the first time in days. “So, when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.” Edmund paced the room, his steps loud in the confined space. “First, I must speak with the queen mother.” He stopped moving and sat in a chair, hanging his head. “I must tell her I failed. I didn’t protect her son.” He raised his tortured eyes, searing his sorrow into her. “La Dame has Tyson as well.”
Maiya stayed behind while Etta and Edmund left for the palace. At the gates, Edmund pulled his hood up to cover his hair.
One of the guards stopped them with hard eyes. “Persinette Basile, we’ve been told to watch for you.”
“Well, you see me. Now let me pass.”
Another guard joined the first, and she didn’t recognize either of them. But they knew who she was, what she could do.
“We can’t allow you in the castle unescorted.” The first man drew his sword in threat. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”
The second guard spit on the ground at Verité’s feet. Verité showed his teeth with a growl.
Edmund tapped her thigh, and she nodded. All sound was pushed from the place as Etta slid from Verité’s back. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area for signs they weren’t alone. A smile curved her lips, and the guards took a step back.
She didn’t draw her sword as she walked toward them. “The queen mother will hear of this.”
“The council has control now.” The first guard gripped his hilt tighter. He was young. A puppy. The second was older, and he’d been smart enough not to draw his weapon.
Edmund chuckled behind her. “If you think Queen Catrine Durand doesn’t rule that council as if they were her kingdom, we may have to forgive your insolence on account of your clear stupidity.”
“Don’t come any closer,” the older guard commanded. “Times are changing. We are taking back our kingdom that Alexandre Durand gave away to people like you.”
She stopped inches from the tip of the sword. “That’s King Alexandre.” Knocking the sword aside easily, she lunged for the younger guard as she called her magic forth. Slamming him back against the wall, she forced the sword from his grasp as the vines climbed the stone, wrapping first around his ankles before slithering up over his torso. He screamed, but Edmund’s magic made sure no one heard.
She released him and turned to the second guard who had drawn his sword. He charged toward her, blade raised, and she twisted out of the way. He chopped at the air and she evaded each move with ease. He cut at her legs and she jumped.
“Need some help?” Edmund leaned back in the saddle casually.
“Wouldn’t want you to tax yourself,” she called back, ducking as the blade sailed over her head.
“Just don’t get yourself killed by this fool. Wouldn’t want Alex to die as well.”
“Your concern is touching.” She spun again, exhilaration rushing through her. If she drew her sword, the fight would be over instantly, but she needed the fight to take her mind off everything else.
As her lungs began to burn and the guard’s heavy swings arced wildly, she ducked and grabbed his arm. She knocked his blade to the ground. He threw a punch, but it missed its mark and she shook her head.
“Edmund,” she called, releasing the man’s wrist. A forceful wind aimed straight for her opponent, pushing him up against the wall so Etta could tie him there as well. Without another glance, she remounted Verité.
“That looked like fun.” Edmund rested his chin on her shoulder.
“We have to figure out what’s going on here.” She snapped the reins and entered the outer castle. “Why’d they let us through the gates this morning and refuse us entry now?”
“This morning you didn’t look like Persinette Basile. You were bundled in my cloak and could barely stay on the horse.”
She arranged the hood on her cloak to cover her golden hair and keep her face in shadow. Guards patrolled the streets, and she avoided looking at any of them directly. Why was the royal guard wandering the outer palace?
They bypassed the stables to ride Verité directly toward the inner gate.
“Why is it shut?” Etta scanned the gates for any indication of what had happened in the short time she’d been away. “We’ve only been gone for a few hours.”
“Oi,” a gruff female voice called down to them from the top of the inner wall. “Step back from the gates. None are allowed entry.”
“We need to speak with the queen mother,” Edmund called back.
“We don’t allow any traitorous bastards in here.”
Etta shielded her eyes to look up at the woman, not recognizing her. She wore a guard’s uniform with a chain mail headpiece. Her weathered face regarded them coolly.
Pushing back her hood, Etta narrowed her eyes. “I am no traitor. I am Persinette Basile.”
The woman disappeared and a few minutes later, the door at the base of the gates opened and Simon peered out, ushering them in.
“Etta.” He helped her dismount. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“What’s happened?”
“Many things.” He nodded toward Edmund in question.
Etta put a hand on his arm. “Simon, do you know Edmund?”
“Of course. We were in the king’s guard together.” He held out his hand. “Good to have you back.”
Edmund shook his hand, and they left Verité in the courtyard without removing his saddle, knowing he’d be okay on his own. The palace was full of people. Some were guards or servants, but others looked like simple townsfolk.
“You look better than you did yesterday,” Simon noted, leading them through the halls.
“Maiya’s back.” She gripped his arm to stop him. “What are we walking into here, Simon?”
“The past few hours have been hectic. After you left the council meeting yesterday, things devolved. They voted
to release the nobles we’d been holding. Everything else blew up from there. Nobles are choosing sides. The guard has splintered. They’re seeking out suspected magic folk in the outer castle. Some have taken refuge in the palace.”
“All of these people are magic folk?” Edmund’s eyes bounced from face to face as they continued walking.
“No.” Simon turned into the royal family’s wing and they left the refugees behind. “Others just came for protection.”
“Why should they need protection if they have no magic?” Edmund asked.
They stopped outside Catrine’s door and before Simon pushed it open, he turned back to them. “Because this isn’t just the purge of years past. It’s a rebellion.”
Those two words stuck in her mind as they entered the room. Queen Catrine sat in front of the fireplace next to Duchess Moreau and Amalie. Camille stood at the table pouring wine and her husband, Duke Caron, paced nearby. Each face turned to them as the door slammed shut.
Catrine was the first to rise.
“Edmund?” She rushed toward him. “Dear boy, it is good to see you.” She cupped his cheek, and he inclined his head.
When he straightened, there were tears in his eyes. “I have failed you.”
Etta took his hand in hers. There was much to discuss, but he needed to get the words out.
Catrine waited patiently.
“La Dame has Tyson.”
She sucked in a breath and stepped away from him. “How?”
“We were in one of the border villages when it was attacked by La Dame’s forces. At first, we thought they were friendly because they were calling out Persinette’s name. But then the fighting began. It was magic against magic as many of the villagers were descendants of Bela.” He swallowed thickly. “There was a man who could control fire. When I used my magic on him, it increased the flames. Not even Tyson’s water could put them out. We were trapped on opposite sides of the flames. I saw his shirt catch fire. A magic man put it out, but then they took him. I couldn’t stop them.”
Catrine stumbled back to her chair and fell into it, a sob caught in her throat. Amalie moved to put her arms around the queen mother’s shaking shoulders.
