Golden Chains

by M. Lynn

  Chapter Fifteen

  The minute they crossed into Bela, the band around Etta’s heart began to loosen. She hunched forward in her saddle in relief.

  “Etta, are you okay?” Maiya asked, riding up beside her.

  “We’re getting close. I can feel it.”

  Edmund appeared on her other side. “We’re about two day’s ride to the palace.”

  “Let’s hope La Dame is really there.” Maiya kicked her horse into a gallop and the others followed.

  They passed into a sweeping ravine with the greenest forests Etta had ever seen. Bela had lain dormant for so long without people ravaging the land and it thrived as a result. Tall trees stretched as far as they could see in every direction. The paths cut into the forests were long overgrown and hidden.

  They slowed to a walk and Etta ducked her head to avoid a branch. She let her magic flow from her fingers to clear the path before them. The trees shrank back, their roots retreating from her power. Vines twisted and slithered like snakes to move from their way.

  For a moment, she forgot about the mission or the kidnapped king as she reveled in the feel of the woods. A bird swooped in overhead, its wings stretched out as it glided toward a thickset tree to perch along a high branch.

  That’s when it hit her. She was home.

  Etta didn’t know Bela, but in her heart, it was hers. She patted Verité’s neck and leaned forward. “The Basiles have returned.”

  She didn’t want to rule. That power frightened her. But she was born to fight and she would fight for Bela until her last breath.

  Maiya approached Etta when she slid from Verité’s back to begin making camp when the sun began to dip below the horizon. “How’s the pain?”

  “It won’t kill me.” Etta set to work removing Verité’s saddle.

  “Do you want me to…” She waved her hand.

  “No.” Etta put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I think I need to feel it right now.” She clenched her teeth and hefted the saddle, carrying it toward the base of a tree and setting it down. Verité’s blanket was next. He’d ridden hard all day. He deserved to be taken care of first, no matter how deep her weariness went.

  He bumped his nose on her shoulder and then walked away to munch on the grass that was plentiful here. Etta was glad she didn’t have to use her magic to procure food for the horses because it had been all but depleted during the day.

  They tied up the other two horses, but Verité was allowed to roam. He would stick close. He always did.

  Satisfied they were okay, Etta, Edmund, and Maiya silently made camp.

  Edmund scratched his chin. “I don’t think we should make a fire tonight.”

  Etta’s shoulders drooped. The night was already growing colder and the warmth would do them some good. But Edmund was right. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You think La Dame’s people would see the smoke when we’re days from her?” Maiya asked.

  “She probably has patrols searching the countryside.” Edmund spread his blanket on the ground and sat down.

  “Are we trying for surprise?”

  Etta shook her head. “She knows we’re coming.” She caught a piece of dried meat Edmund threw toward her and bit down. Venison. She sighed, remembering her own forest in Gaule before life became such a mess. Maybe her life was born a mess.

  She leaned back against the rough bark of a wide oak.

  Maiya’s soft snores began in no time. Edmund glanced at her before meeting Etta’s eyes. They both laughed.

  “When I first came across Maiya and the group she traveled with, she knew me instantly.” He smiled at the memory. “I remembered her from the attack on the village when she helped us.” He trailed off for a moment. “She’s fiercely loyal to you. When I told her of my mission, she didn’t hesitate to join me. Her words were ‘I’ll get Etta to La Dame if it’s the last thing I do.’”

  “She’s young.” Etta studied the girl’s handsome dark-skinned face. “She thinks I can win.”

  “And you don’t.” Edmund knew her too well.

  Etta was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. “I have been training my whole life. My father prepared me to have a place at the king’s side. I can kill a man many different ways.” She looked sideways at Edmund but he hadn’t flinched. He too was a warrior. “I could have spent my entire life protecting the king and no one could do it better than me.”

  He raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

  “My father didn’t prepare me for La Dame. He trained me to do everything in a fight except use my magic. My magic was to be hidden at all times. I’m trying really hard not to be angry at him for that. He should have seen this, should have known the possibility. Instead, he believed I’d just live out the curse as so many Basiles before me have. I’m so utterly unprepared and I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Edmund considered her, staring into the darkness that separated them. “You can,” he said simply.

  “How do you have so much faith in me?”

  “You’re meant for this. I knew you’d be great the moment I saw you in the tournament. You won’t fail because you refuse to fail.”

  “So, I’m just stubborn?”

  His lip quirked up. “Stubborn doesn’t begin to describe you.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence after that and Etta drifted off to sleep.

  She woke with a start as stinging metal pressed against her neck. It took her a moment to come to full awareness and her eyes snapped to the broad-shouldered man hovering over her.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but a force slammed into her. Someone was using magic.

  The man near her didn’t smile and in his eyes, she sensed… regret?

  “They’re soldiers of Gaule,” a woman yelled. “We need to do away with them.” Etta twisted hard, catching a glimpse of a petite woman holding up Edmund’s sword. On the hilt, was the insignia of the royal guard.

  The man removed the knife from her throat as another shock of power slammed into her. “Who are you?” she ground out, panting from the effort.

  Another man stepped into view. “People who’ve been beaten down by Gaule one too many times.”

  Etta reached out her hand as her eyes shifted to take note of Maiya lying unconscious nearby and Edmund being shoved roughly against a tree. He met her eyes before flicking them to the tree at her back.

  Should she tell them who she was? With her shortened hair, she wasn’t easily recognizable. Her magic pulsed underneath her skin, begging to be set free.

  She let it loose. A branch shot out from a near tree, knocking one of the men over the head. Etta rolled and lurched to her feet as she pulled the grasses from the ground, expanding them and twisting them up around the woman’s legs. She slashed Edmund’s sword at the grass bands binding her feet.

  Etta lunged for her own sword and spun, catching an attacker in the belly. Edmund knocked his man away and twisted him into a headlock. A sickening crack rang through the air and the man slumped to the ground, his neck broken. Two women were left. One raised her hand to use her magic, but Edmund was quick. Etta pulled her knife free and tossed it to him. The first woman dropped as the blade sank into her chest.

  The last woman backed away. Etta and Edmund both advanced.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “I… I didn’t want to kill you. That was them.” She pointed to her dead companions.

  Etta placed a hand on Edmund’s arm and he handed her back the blade. After cleaning it on the grass, she sheathed it and regarded the woman with hard eyes. “Why did you attack us?”

  “You’re soldiers of Gaule. W-we just escaped from there and won’t go back.”

  Etta’s heart sank as she turned to Edmund. “They were just scared.” Dropping her sword, she turned. “And we killed them.”

  Edmund was still focused on the woman. “Where were you headed?”

  Her face paled, and she diverted her eyes.

  “Where?” Etta growled.

  “We hear
d a rumor La Dame was gathering forces to march against Gaule.”

  A roar ripped from Etta’s mouth as she twisted around.

  “Why would Belaens fight for her?” Edmund asked.

  “Because, Edmund,” Etta spat. “This is what happens when you terrorize a people for as long as Gaule has. Eventually, they fight back with whatever means they have.” She put her hands on her head and regarded the gray sky. “The only real choice they have is which enemy to serve.”

  She flicked her hand to the woman who was still struggling against the grass holding her in place. Her bonds loosened, sinking back into the ground. Waving to the two women, she turned away. “Go.”

  They didn’t have to be told twice. Their backs retreated as they ran through the thick forest.

  Etta dropped down beside Maiya and felt for a pulse. It throbbed strongly in her neck. She shook the girl’s shoulder and Maiya’s eyes opened slowly.

  “Is it morning already?” Maiya asked.

  Etta sat back on her heels. “You were asleep? How could you sleep through that?”

  “Sleep through what?”

  Before she got a chance to respond, Edmund pulled her to her feet. “Why didn’t you tell them who you were?”

  “Oh sure, let me just inform them that I am the queen I don’t even want to be. I’m sure they’d believe that after the pains we took to change my appearance. I’ll tell them that I’m on a mission to save the man they consider to be a greater enemy than even La Dame herself. I’m sure their anger would abate then.”

  Edmund shook his head and went about checking the bodies for anything they could use. He didn’t understand and he never would. The Belaen people were not a singular force. They didn’t have a crown uniting them. There was no national pride because most of them were setting foot in Bela for the first time. All they had was anger. Anger and survival.

  There was little to be taken from the poor travelers and they were on their way before they’d even eaten breakfast as none of them wanted to stare into the vacant eyes any longer.

  Etta killed them without a second thought. Each kill was easier than the one before and that affected her more than the act itself. Was is possible to become immune to guilt? Had her hair really had the power to keep her soul intact? Probably not. That was a silly fantasy. Cutting it hadn’t changed who she was.

  She’d once told Alex that killing broke apart the soul. What happened when the pieces had been broken so many times it was like they didn’t exist at all?

  That was when you were no longer a warrior. Warriors had honor. They had a code. When the killing became dishonorable, you were just a murderer.

  As if it agreed with her, the sky quaked on their third day in Bela. Verité shook with the vibrations of the thunder as rain pelted down. Etta pulled up her hood and sidled up next to Edmund. “I can feel him. The closer we get, the more I sense Alex.”

  Edmund gave her a grateful smile. After so long on the road with little hope, it was what he needed to hear.

  Maiya grew more withdrawn the closer they got, but Etta let her friend have her peace.

  They crested a hill that led down into a wide-open glen dotted with white wildflowers. Even with the angry sky, it was dazzling.

  Her eyes scanned the distance, catching on something toward a rocky hillside to the west. “What’s that?” She pointed to the swirling mass of water shooting into the sky.

  “It looks like the water is…” Edmund shielded his eyes from the rain for a better look. “Going up?”

  A thought began in the back of her mind. Did he have that kind of power? She’d only seen the prince perform little tricks.

  “Could he?” She didn’t need to say his name.

  Edmund’s face lit up. “Only one way to find out.” He kicked his horse into a gallop across the soft ground.

  Etta and Maiya raced after him. The cyclone of water continued to rise as they neared the boulders. A narrow path, barely wide enough for a horse, led them through the rocks until they saw him.

  Tyson stood in the center of the water as it spun around him and flew toward the sky. His focus was absolute.

  Another young man stood at the mouth of a cave yelling at Tyson.

  “Ty, you’re going to burn out your magic if you keep this up.” He stomped toward him, the rain soaking him in seconds. “Cousin.” The water cyclone was strong, but the young man managed to reach through and grip Tyson’s shoulder. He yanked him back, and the cyclone dissipated.

  Etta jumped from her saddle as Tyson glanced up. His eyes widened when he saw her. He stumbled back and his legs folded under him. The other man caught him before he crashed into the ground. He carried him into the cave, laid him down gently, and shook his head.

  “I told you not to do it.”

  “Tyson,” Etta breathed, falling to her knees.

  The man noticed her for the first time. His eyes scanned their anxious faces.

  “You bloody bastard.” The man nudged Tyson with his foot. “You win, okay?”

  He shook his head and turned. “You must be Etta.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I can’t believe it worked. He said if he continued to do that day after day, you’d find us. I wanted to go searching for you, but Bela is a big place. It’s probably best we didn’t. Not like I think we can save that brother of his. I told him you shouldn’t come because, honestly, the king of Gaule isn’t worth your life.”

  Edmund growled.

  The man went on. “And that makes you Edmund. Alexandre Durand isn’t worth your life either.”

  Etta was losing patience. She charged the man and pushed him up against the wall of the cave. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re free to be on your way. We are going after Alex.”

  “You won’t win.”

  Edmund gripped Etta’s shoulder and pulled her out of the way before connecting his fist to the man’s jaw. His lip cracked and his tongue darted out to find the blood. Edmund kept him pressed up against the hard stone.

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Your loyalty makes you blind. Tyson, I understand. It’s his brother. The girl is blinded by love. But you…”

  Edmund pulled him forward and slammed him back.

  “That girl,” he growled. “Is Persinette Basile, and you’d do well to show her some respect.”

  The man stopped fighting, his eyes rounding as they studied her face. Edmund jerked him away from the wall and tossed him to the ground.

  Blonde hair flopped into the man’s impossibly clear eyes as he rolled to look at her once more. His eyes roamed the contours of her face, her shortened hair, the leather armor she wore.

  Tyson coughed and opened his eyes. Maiya helped him sit up slowly and take in the surrounding cave. Edmund still stood in a defensive stance. Etta scowled. The man panted on the ground.

  “What’s going on?” Tyson asked. “Why is Matteo bleeding?” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Etta, what did you do?”

  “Why do you immediately assume it was me?” She crossed her arms.

  “Punch first, questions later should be your nickname.”

  “That’s not true,” she huffed.

  Edmund’s shoulders shook with laughter. “If it had been Etta, there’d be a sword protruding from his chest.”

  “That would be a shame.” Tyson’s eyes darted around the room nervously. “Because he’s our cousin.”

  Our cousin. Our cousin.

  Etta didn’t understand, but some missing part of her clicked into place as the knowledge permeated every cell. Our cousin.

  Forget the blonde still sitting on the floor looking every bit like a Basile. That was something she’d deal with when her mind quit running through scenarios, looking for the things she’d missed.

  “Our cousin,” she breathed, giving the tiniest shake of her head. My brother. That was the more pressing revelation.

  Her mother’s face appeared, smiling kindly. Had she known? Because as soon as Tyson even hinted, Etta knew it was true. It made too much sense
. Catrine’s sadness. The secrets. The lies. The vehemence with which the king ran her father from the palace.

  Should she have seen it? Even as a child, maybe she missed things. Had her father been in love with the queen?

  The anger that’d begun to build in the pit of her stomach now threatened to boil over. Not only had her father failed in her preparations, he’d betrayed her mother. For what? Had he even loved her?

  She pulled her rage back from the edge bit by bit, remembering her father’s tears. Once they’d escaped the palace after her mother’s death, he’d broken down. It was the one time she’d ever seen him cry, but it had been real. She knew it had.

  “Etta.” Edmund’s voice was cautious as he reached out to grip her arm.

  Only then did she realize she was shaking.

  She brought her hand up to her shoulder to wrap it in the end of her braid. A nervous tick. But like everything else in her life, her hair was no longer there. She turned on her heel and ran back out into the rain. Leaning against a worn boulder, she hunched forward trying to catch her breath.

  Did she know her father at all?

  “Etta,” Tyson called, running after her.

  “You shouldn’t be out here, Ty.” She sucked in a breath. “I’m okay. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Etta. You can’t order me to go back in. Not after everything I’ve gone through. And what gives you and Edmund the right to be rough with Matteo? He helped me when you weren’t there.”

  “I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around herself as the chill clung to her sopping clothes. “I should have been there.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He sighed in exasperation and moved closer. In an instant, the rain stopped slapping her in the face.

  She looked up to see it coming directly for them, but then it bent out, giving them a small, dry circle. Her mouth dropped open.

  “Tyson, since when do you have this much power?”

  He waved the words away. “Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about this.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “The first time I met you, I felt this connection.”