by M. Lynn
Alex met his gaze with confusion swirling in his own.
“Tonight, I’m going to escape.”
“Tyson…”
“Don’t try to stop me.” Tyson’s eyes hardened and he no longer looked like the teenage boy he was. “Etta has to be on her way. I’ll find her and we will come for you.”
“How do you know she’s coming?”
Tyson stared at him. “Do you even know who she is?”
“Persinette Basile.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He turned away to face the doors as they opened. “It doesn’t matter if she was born to be queen or if she was a pauper. She is Etta and always will be. There is no doubt in my mind she would risk everything for you. It doesn’t matter what you do to each other. She lies. You imprison. Etta is the noblest of all of us. She will come. It’s why you’re here. La Dame is counting on that too.”
A guard ripped Tyson away and shoved him through the door.
La Dame joined Alex, escorting him through the darkened woods to the tower. He didn’t sleep that night and when morning came, his freedom was no closer than it had been before.
Chapter Fourteen
Edmund froze beside Etta, his hand clamping like a vice around her arm as footsteps approached them across the courtyard.
She placed her hand over his for a moment before busying herself unhooking Verité from the wagon. After days of hard traveling, she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep. Guilt gnawed at her for the thought. Alex and Tyson were still captives and she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Edmund,” Anders’ harsh voice cut through the night air.
“What are you doing here?” Edmund turned his back on his father to unhook the second horse. Two stable lads took the horses toward the stables, but Edmund still hadn’t turned back to face Anders.
“I am commander of his Majesty’s forces.” He scowled. “You do not demand answers from me.”
Edmund turned, but Etta put a hand on his chest to stop him. He stared at the father who disavowed him for the magic that ran through his veins. A magic he should have known about as it came from his mother.
“Captain,” Etta began. “There are more important things to discuss. We did not expect to see you until we reached the border tomorrow so it comes as a bit of a shock.”
Edmund glared at her as a woman walked into the courtyard, dressed in a servant’s smock.
“Edmund.” She smiled. “We did not expect you back.”
“Orenna.” His voice went from angry to charming in a matter of moments. “I will always come back to see you.”
One eyebrow arched. “Don’t flirt with me, sir. It isn’t nice when we both have duties to attend to.”
He laughed and Anders grunted beside him.
To Etta’s surprise, the girl faced her and dipped into a curtsy. “Persinette Basile, if we’d had word of your coming, there would have been more of a welcome than this.”
Etta pushed back her hood. “How do you know me?”
Orenna smiled as if it was the greatest jest. “These are the borderlands. Everyone knows you. Once the villagers hear of your arrival, they will rejoice.”
Fear snapped into her. “They must not.”
“I agree,” Anders said, much to her surprise. He cocked his head. “Their presence will stir up unrest and they would not be here if the matter was not urgent. Come, we will discuss it inside.”
Maiya had been silent until now and Orenna regarded her with a curious expression. “You can come with me. I’ll show you to the guest wing.”
Duchess Moreau’s estate was unlike anything Etta had ever seen before. It stood in stark contrast to the imposing palace.
Their steps clicked across sky blue tiled floors, past walls of limestone adorned with bright murals.
Anders led them through the halls to a circular room. As soon as Etta stepped through, she stopped, her eyes drifting to the glass ceiling that showed off the night sky. Starlight danced across the shadows, giving the space an ethereal glow.
Edmund nudged her shoulder. “When I first arrived here, I was in bad shape. Guilt and pity ate away at me. I’d come to this room every night and stare into the heavens. The stars healed me.”
Anders lit a torch on the wall and sat at the single table in the room. “Now, tell me why you have returned with the kingslayer’s daughter.”
Edmund glared. “I don’t trust you.”
“I am—”
“The king’s commander. Yeah, I know. But you are also a man who wants to destroy magic. Does your loyalty stretch past the bonds of hate?”
“My loyalty is to the king of Gaule. He sends me to the border and here I am. I arrived at the Duchess’ estate this morning. It’s a day’s ride from the garrison. We have captured some of the folk who’ve been terrorizing the countryside and I need instruction. The king is too far to receive a messenger in time so the Duchess holds authority over the matter.”
“He’s closer than you think,” Edmund grumbled.
Etta collapsed into a chair. “He’s in Bela.”
Ander’s head snapped up.
They told him everything from the kidnapping to the battle beginning in the streets of Gaule castle. He listened intently as he stood and began to pace. “We can’t leave the border unprotected. Not while La Dame is in Bela.”
“You can’t let the traitors take Gaule either.” Etta was losing her patience.
“I know that,” he snapped. “We must call in the Moreau forces, but I don’t have the authority to do that.”
Etta reached into a pouch at her waist and produced Duchess Moreau’s ring. “You do if the Duchess has ordered it.” She set the ring on the table and pushed it toward him.
He snatched it up to examine it. A long moment passed before he spoke. “I’ll get this to the duchess’ commander, giving him the power to call them in. Moreau’s people can man the Garrison. I can have my men ready to march in two days. Can they hold out that long in the palace?”
“We think so.” She paused. “Tomorrow we’ll cross the border and reach Alex two days after that.”
“I’m sending some of my men with you.”
“No.” Edmund crossed his arms.
“Boy, you can’t go after the king with only two women to help you.”
Etta tilted her chin up. “Do you wish to fight me to see if I’m worthy?”
Edmund hid a grin. “Go ahead, father.”
He grunted and made for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Bring our king home.”
“Make sure he still has a kingdom to come home to.”
Etta tossed and turned in her bed until finally giving up on sleep altogether. She dressed hastily and tucked a knife into the sheath on her leg. Closing her door quietly, she padded from the guest wing and backtracked to the room that was open to the world.
It was unoccupied when she arrived, save for the stars winking up above.
Ignoring the chairs, she lowered herself to the center of the floor and leaned back on her elbows. Peace enveloped her.
She imagined Alex looking at these same stars and pain snaked up around her arm and down into her heart. Maiya continued to heal her, but each time she did, the effects lasted for a shorter and shorter period.
The only knowledge that gave her comfort was as long as a heart beat within her chest, one did in his as well.
All of them had grown tense on their journey, rarely speaking. They had no comforting words for each other. Even Edmund was morose.
The door creaked open and Etta glanced back at it. Orenna stood there holding a candle.
“I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“It’s okay.” Etta sat up. “Some company actually sounds nice.”
The girl smiled shyly and walked farther into the room, dropping down beside Etta. “I come here most evenings to talk to the stars.” A flush reddened her cheeks. “You probably think that’s crazy.”
> “What do you say to them?”
She started as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. “Well, a lot of things I guess. Mostly I ask them to look after my family.”
Etta laid back. She wanted to talk of anything that would get her out of her own mind. “Are they in one of the border villages?”
“They were. After one of the attacks, they disappeared.”
Etta closed her eyes almost wishing she hadn’t asked. She wasn’t good with emotion and Orenna’s voice thickened.
“There are rumors,” she went on, clearing her throat. “So many of our people have gone missing. People say they are taken into Bela to serve La Dame.” She stopped for a moment. “That’s good, though. Right? It means they’re still alive.”
“I’m not sure anything about La Dame is good.”
Orenna considered her, but Etta kept her eyes trained on the sky.
“Our village protested your arrest,” she finally said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Many of us have magic. The duchess protects us from discovery, but after your identity was revealed and you were imprisoned, we decided we were done living in secret. We refused to send our shipments of food to the palace. At first, the guards arrested anyone who disobeyed orders. Then the attacks began, and they thought it was us, so they stayed away. They didn’t care if magic folk killed magic folk.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t us. La Dame sent her people to sow unrest. When the attackers began naming you as the reason for their actions, we were confused. You were our cause, and they twisted it. They turned you into a prop for their war. Made non-magic folk distrust you.” She turned to Etta and dipped her head. “I never distrusted you.”
Etta closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Orenna wasn’t the first to look at her as if she would save them all, but she didn’t know if she could be who they wanted her to be. She wasn’t a leader. She could barely trust herself, how were these people supposed to count on her?
“I’m not a queen.” It was the first time she’d said it out loud, and it was accompanied by a loud rush of air.
“You were born to be queen.” Orenna wouldn’t give up.
“You’re wrong.” She got to her feet and brushed her hands down her pants. “I was born to serve. Born to fight. I never had any choice.”
“You do now.”
Etta shook her head. She’d never have a choice as long as the curse tied her to Alex. She watched the girl who now appeared younger than before. Her parents had been taken from her and she still had hope brightening her eyes.
She was stronger than she knew. When Etta’s father died, she lost her brightness. Her youth. She left the room without another word as her last visit with her father played in her mind. Would he be proud of her now? Her charge was in the hands of the enemy. She’d let that happen because she’d fallen in love. It made her weak. It made her drop her guard.
Viktor Basile would be ashamed.
She’d promised him she’d break the curse. He hadn’t believed in her, but her promise stood firm. How could she have grown so complacent?
Was she meant to be queen? Queen of what? A people who were scattered among the kingdoms. A land that had been abandoned before being taken by La Dame. Was she queen of ruins and long-forsaken people?
Orenna was wrong. Persinette was queen of no one.
“Father,” she whispered. “I’m going to prove you wrong. I may never be queen, but I will be free.” If the curse was no more, what would become of her and Alex? He was the king. No path forward existed for them together, but without the curse, they could both embark on their paths alone.
The descendants of Bela believed in her. If La Dame was taking them, she would stop her. How, she didn’t know. The legends of the Basiles were wrong. As the first and only of her generation, her magic should be stronger.
But it wasn’t.
As she reached her room, a spasm shocked her as it dug into her shoulder. Gritting her teeth to keep from calling out, she stumbled into the hall to pound her fists on Maiya’s door.
The tremor intensified, burning down her arm.
Maiya appeared, sleep ruffled and confused.
Before she could speak, Etta fell through the door and crashed onto the floor.
Sweat poured down Alex’s face as he cried out once again. La Dame jerked her hand and her magic ripped into his skin like a thousand white-hot pokers.
He’d been forced to attend another ball, but when it was finished, he hadn’t been sent back to the tower. He was in a sizable room with high wooden ceilings that trapped his echoing screams.
Biting down on his lip, he tasted blood.
“Is this because of Tyson?” His voice came out with a ragged moan.
La Dame gave a crooked smile and leaned forward. “He is of no consequence.” Her power shot forward once again and he screamed.
Tyson, true to his word, had escaped. Alex waited for news of his capture to come and it never had. His brother was truly away from this place. It was an insufficient comfort at the moment.
“Although,” she continued. “I am looking forward to his return with my favorite guest of all.”
She was distracted for a moment and Alex let himself breathe.
“You let him go?” He leaned his head back against the chair, his chest heaving. “Why?”
She grinned. “Do you really think you’re the one I’m after?”
“Etta.” Her name on his lips was like a prayer.
Her smiled didn’t waver as she nodded. “You’re not as stupid as you look, young king.” She ran her fingertips down his cheek. “Such a beautiful boy.” Straightening up, she hardened her features. “My men were ordered not to pursue Tyson and his cousin. Matteo was always such an insolent boy. Nothing like his father.”
She waved a hand, and the door clicked open. A man walked through, still dressed in his ball attire. The collar of his jacket was unbuttoned, but that was the only liberty he’d taken with his clothing. Alex recognized him immediately. He’d just met him that night. Matteo’s father. The brother of Viktor Basile.
He had the Basile look about him. High cheekbones and perceptive eyes. But there was a strength Viktor had always exuded that this man lacked.
He walked forward and kneeled. “My queen. I am sorry my son has caused you so much grief.”
La Dame ran a hand over the top of his head. “Matteo has a greater purpose now.” Her smile turned down. “But you have outlived your usefulness to me.”
His eyes widened a moment before La Dame’s magic slammed into him. The impact sent a wave through the room and Alex flew back against the wall.
The man’s shock froze on his face as he collapsed backward, a black hole in the middle of his chest.
La Dame had never been able to use her power to control what Matteo and Warren did as Basiles, but that had never meant her other powers were useless against them.
Alex tried to push himself from the ground, but his arms failed him and his face hit the cold stone floor. An eternity passed before La Dame’s footsteps moved closer, each slap against the ground reverberating through his skull.
He lifted his eyes up over her swishing skirt and the dark lace of her bodice to where her inky hair framed the black pits of her eyes.
“You killed him,” he said. “He was loyal to you and you still killed him.”
“He was a Basile,” she screamed. “They’re loyal to none but themselves.”
“Do you have no soul?”
“I did. Many years ago. And they took her from me.” She marched across the room, throwing the door open without touching it.
Once she was gone, Alex turned over onto his back, each movement an agony. Even as his lungs begged for breath, his chest screamed to lay still. But the worst of it was still his heart, tied by the curse, and beating painfully against his ribs.
He closed his eyes and forced air in through his lips and then out again.
La Dame’s final words wouldn’t leave him. She’d lost someone and blamed t
he Basiles. Was that the reason for the curse? Was it more than a king stealing a healing plant generations ago? King Phillip of Bela took his men over the wall of Dracon not to invade, but to save his queen with a rampion weed. And his descendants paid the price for his folly. It might have taken many years for Bela to be destroyed, but that day was the beginning of the end.
Two guards stomped into the room, the rings of their mail jingling together. Alex barely noticed as he was hauled to his feet. They carried him from the room and into the courtyard where La Dame was waiting with a wagon.
She’d regained her composure, but something was still off.
They dumped him into the wagon and it began to bump along the path through the forest to his tower prison.
As he gazed at the stars above, he wondered if Etta could see them too. Where was she? Wherever she was, she’d have felt every blow he’d taken and he couldn’t protect her from any of it.
Delirium took hold and a laugh burst from his lips at the thought of anyone needing to protect Etta. She’d kill him for the thought.
The warmth began in his lower abdomen where the worst of his injuries were and spread from there. He knew the feeling well and sent up a silent thanks to Etta. She must have been with a healer.
The agony abated as comfort enveloped him. He lifted his head for a better look at the stars, counting them until they reached the base of the tower. A guard lifted him from the wagon and La Dame made the stairs appear out of the stone. He let his head loll against the guard’s shoulder so as not to let his healed state be revealed.
After the guard dumped him into bed, La Dame left without a word. As soon as she was gone, he scrambled toward the window and sat straddling the sill, bathed in moonlight. Leaning his head back against the stone, he let the silver glow wash over his face.
“I wish you could hear me, Etta. You shouldn’t come for me. I’m not worth it. As long as she doesn’t kill me, you’ll be able to live your life. The only thing that exists here for you is death.” A tear slid down his cheek. “Only death.”
