by M. Lynn
“Didn’t you tell me there is no freedom in death? How is it too easy?”
“That’s true. There is no freedom. But there is finality. An end. Maybe a little peace. Peace. As long as we’re alive, she can at least make sure we have no peace.”
“She can try.” Etta’s voice hardened. “But what she didn’t count on was the curse providing the peace we seek. I don’t need her to break it anymore. I could live my entire life connected to Alexandre Durand, and it would be a good one.”
“Don’t underestimate her. She will use your love against you.”
Etta’s eyes drifted to where Maiya had fallen asleep. “Maybe she already has.”
“You’ve found the traitor in your midst.” He nodded in understanding.
“You knew?” As if his words confirmed Maiya’s allegiance in her mind, the anger she’d felt returned in force.
“She’s a healer, of course I knew. The healing magic is a Draconian one.”
“I’m such a fool.” She buried her face in her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
One of his shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I didn’t think it mattered. She wouldn’t try to kill you. La Dame wants you alive. It seems her job is to guide you to the palace. Make sure you get there. That’s where we want to go anyway, so what’s the harm?”
“We? I thought you were against us going.”
He tilted his head back against the wall, blonde hair falling into his eyes. He looked every bit the Basile. Every bit her family.
Family. It was a foreign concept to her. Matteo. Tyson. She didn’t know how to be family.
When Matteo answered her, his voice was barely above a whisper. “If I thought I could stop you, I would. But I will go where you go. I know I can be harsh, but I’ve never had anyone in my life I could care about.”
“What about your father?”
He shook his head. “No. You need to know… my father is a Basile, but he’s loyal to La Dame. He won’t be on our side.”
Etta hesitated before taking his hand in hers. Her cousin had lived his life in solitude similar to hers, both in their own kind of prison. He’d been alone. At least she’d had her father when he wasn’t off trailing the king across Gaule. Matteo gave her hand a grateful squeeze, and it tugged at her heart. Her connection to him had nothing to do with a curse, it was blood, pure and simple. Their blood bonded them and in Bela, blood was the most important thing of all. It held their power.
She thought over every interaction with Matteo, coming to one conclusion. “You don’t have any magic, do you?”
He hung his head in shame.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” He took his hand from hers. “I waited my entire life for the legendary Basile power. The kind that hadn’t been seen in generations. The kind that the stories told could defeat La Dame. I thought maybe that was the reason I didn’t even have small-scale magic, because it would come. Then I found out about you and knew it never would.”
“But I don’t have it either.” She held out her hand, palm up. “All I can do is grow plants. And Ty… he hasn’t shown anything other than a water ability.”
“And so it passed another generation.” He shook his head. “And we’re no closer to taking her down for good.”
Chapter Eighteen
A cart rumbled by and Etta jumped back to avoid being hit, colliding with an older man behind her. She peered up into his drawn face.
“I’m sorry.”
He grumbled something unintelligible and went on his way.
A hand gripped her elbow. Edmund. He led her past the bustling marketplace where a young boy sold loaves of bread outside a bakery and the line at the dressmakers wrapped around the side of the building.
At the center of the village was an open space. When Etta rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. A stand had been erected in the center of the square and a man’s body was held upright by two pikes. Flies buzzed about his face. The villagers avoided coming near, but Etta couldn’t stop herself. She recognized his bloated face immediately. She’d probably never forget one of the men who’d abused her in Gaule’s dungeons.
“Lance.” Edmund covered his mouth.
Etta didn’t realize she was shaking until Edmund pulled her away from the horrid sight and into a narrow alleyway.
“He…” Etta put her hands on her hips and heaved in a breath. “I’d heard Alex sent him into Gaule.”
Edmund watched her carefully. “Am I missing something?”
She refused to bring the memories from the dungeons back to the surface so she swallowed past the bile threatening to rise and shook her head to explore the alley.
It turned into a narrow passageway that led to the docks where fishing boats unloaded the day’s catch. An acrid smell hung in the air and Etta covered her nose with her hand. She’d never been near the sea before. Brilliant blue water stretched across the horizon. The docks themselves were made of narrow wooden slats that the fisherman navigated with ease as they yelled to each other above the flapping of the sails. It was such a stark difference to the square they’d come from.
Bela was an ocean kingdom, serving as the trading connection to the rest of the world. Its ports were once busy with vessels of all sizes from Madra and the other kingdoms across the sea. Gaule and Dracon once sent their goods along Belaen roads to be sold.
But that was before.
Etta’s eyes scanned the coastline to the white cliffs looming over the sea. There, atop the cliffs, sat the palace. The breath caught in Etta’s throat.
Edmund followed her line of sight. “Matteo says La Dame recreated it to the exact specifications of the palace that was there before.”
“Why?”
“She’s obsessed. Whatever Phillip and Aurora did to her, it must have destroyed any sense of humanity she had left.”
“All they did was take a weed. Rapunzel saved Aurora.”
He regarded her without expression. “Do you still believe the legends? That she’s doing all of this because of a weed?”
“I guess not.” She deflated instantly. But then why was she doing it? Power? Did she really hate the Basiles that much? Or did she want to revive Bela, to bring its riches back to the world?
Another boat docked and began unloading buckets of fish with stiff, almost mechanical movements.
“Do you notice something off about these people?” Edmund asked.
“I’ve seen the look in their eyes before.” She turned away from the docks. “They’re prisoners just like we will be tonight.”
When Maiya brought them to the place they were staying, Pierre was there. Etta’s first instinct was to go to him. He’d been like a father after her own died. He’d helped Alex. He’d led their freed people from the dungeons. But had he just brought them here? To be prisoners once again?
He smiled when he saw her, but it fell when he took in her hard eyes. Matteo and Edmund formed up on either side of her. Tyson shook his head in confusion.
Maiya had tears in her eyes. “You know?”
“Know what?” Etta rounded on her. “That my friend has betrayed me. Again. But then, maybe you weren’t my friend at all. Deception is all there’s ever been between us.”
Maiya covered her face as her back shook with tears.
Pierre’s face reddened. “Do not speak to my daughter like that.”
“I will darn well do what I like.” She tried to advance on him, but Edmund held her back. “Did you convince my father to kill the king? To sacrifice himself?”
A sneer curled his lips. “That was entirely his doing. La Dame was pleased.”
“Bastard.” She ripped her arm from Edmund’s grasp and swung at Pierre. A blast of air sent her flying against the wall. He crumpled to the floor and her memory sparked. She’d assumed he was magicless but that couldn’t have been more wrong. “The attack in the village when I first became protector. You were part of it.”
“Who do you think orchestrated it?
My orders were to kill you. But then you fell in love with your charge and all of that changed.”
Picking herself up, she advanced forward once again, but this time, not to attack. “Why are you here?”
He smiled, and it was reminiscent of the man she thought she’d known. “To prepare you for the ball, of course.”
Maiya wouldn’t look at any of them as she followed her father down the street. The people in front of the dressmaker’s shop parted for them to enter, an air of fear surrounding them. Pierre must have been well known in the village as one of La Dame’s men.
The dressmaker was an older, plump lady who was continuously pushing her spectacles up her long nose. Silver hair was tied into a bun with multiple ribbons. She looked up when they entered, the lines of her face deepening as she saw Pierre.
“Agnus,” he barked. “This is Persinette Basile. Dress her to suit her station.”
When Pierre rushed out, forcing Edmund, Tyson, and Matteo to follow him, Etta was left wondering what station an enemy queen who was no queen had in La Dame’s court.
Agnus tsked and tutted as she took Etta’s measurements, but there was otherwise no speaking. At one point, she disappeared into the back room, returning with deep pink gown in her arms.
“It will need a few adjustments.” Agnus shook it out and Etta gasped.
She’d never see anything so fine. Even Catrine and Camille’s dresses in Gaule were understated compared to this. Gold embroidery stretched down the corseted bodice in a flowered design. The skirts were layered with various shades of pink.
“Strip,” Agnus ordered.
Etta obeyed and stepped into the dress, pulling it up over her hips. The neckline dipped low, showing off the tops of her breasts. She swallowed heavily as Agnus pulled her laces so tight she could barely breathe.
With the exception of the length, it fit like a glove. Agnus sat heavily on her stool and went to work shortening the hem as Etta ran her hands down the corset.
When Agnus was finished, she moved to a wooden box on the table and opened the lid. Lifting out a necklace, she turned. “La Dame has ordered you to wear this.”
Even as she bristled at the command, she couldn’t take her eyes from the ruby hanging on the end of a thick golden chain. As soon as Agnus dropped it around her neck, something clicked inside her.
Agnus handed her a pair of glass shoes and she shrank back. “Glass? How am I supposed to wear these?”
“With grace, my queen.”
Etta snapped her eyes to the elderly women who seemed to be following La Dame’s orders so completely. A twinkle lit her eyes.
“Remember, Persinette, most of us have had no choice but to help her. Please don’t forget us.”
“I promise,” Etta whispered. “You have never been forgotten. Bela’s time is coming.”
Agnus nodded, a small smile coming to her lips.
Etta stepped out onto the street, expecting the others to be waiting, but they were nowhere to be found. The village had begun to empty as people made their way to the palace for the ball. Each night, this was their life. They knew their will had been stolen, but their minds couldn’t overcome their bodies actions.
Etta didn’t know what would have been worse. Having your awareness stolen and becoming a mindless follower or knowing exactly what you did and being unable to stop it.
She heaved a sigh and began walking slowly. The glass shoes sat heavy on her feet and she worried they’d break with each step.
The stables weren’t far and when she made it there with her shoes intact, she considered it a success. Taking them off, she padded on bare feet to the second to last stall where she could see Verité hanging his head over the short swinging door of his stall.
She smiled when she saw him, finally believing he was okay after the events at the tower. Meeting his immense brown eyes, she twirled. “How do I look, boy?”
He snorted, and she rubbed a palm along the ridge of his nose. The smell of horses hit her, and she hoped, just for a moment, that the stench clung to her dress. Any rebellion against La Dame. She wanted Etta to be the perfect guest. That would never happen.
Etta sucked in a constricted breath. “How did we get here, Verité? Do you remember when it was just you and me in our forest? Wild and free. Now we know nothing but cages.”
“Knew I’d find you here.” Edmund’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “It’s time to go.”
She turned to face him. He’d been scrubbed and dressed in fitted trousers, a silk blouse, and a jacket that looked like it belonged on him and no one else.
“You’re very handsome, Edmund.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
He grinned. “I don’t think now is the time or place to woo me, Etta.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Even if it were.” He leaned close. “You’re not my type.”
She punched his arm. “I’m trying to tell you I’m glad you’re with me.”
“Because I’m handsome? You don’t have high standards going into a fight.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled. Were they supposed to laugh before a night such as this?
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “No one is going to be able to look at you tonight and not want to follow you no matter where it leads. You look like a queen.”
“I’m worried that’s what I’m meant to look like. Make me a queen and then destroy me.”
Matteo walked through the door in a more ornate outfit than Edmund’s and stopped in his tracks, mouth hanging open. He shook off his momentary shock.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She eyed him skeptically.
“I’ll show you when we get to the ball. Come. We must leave.”
A carriage awaited them. Pierre and Maiya sat on the driver’s bench. Matteo opened the door to reveal Tyson in an identical outfit.
“Seems she’s putting the Basiles on display.” Tyson helped her into the carriage and she slipped the glass shoes onto her feet.
“Glass?” He raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged and leaned back as the carriage jerked to a start and rumbled along the road that would take them to the palace.
There was no more waiting.
No sneaking.
No plotting.
La Dame was bringing them to her and Etta couldn’t even fathom what she was planning. They rumbled past the square, each watching the dead man as they passed. Tyson shot Matteo a knowing look but stayed quiet.
Matteo averted his eyes and leaned forward. “Okay, the great hall is in the center of the palace. It will be crowded with people, many of whom are there because they have no other choice. They’ve been taken from Gaule. Others escaped from Gaule only to walk into La Dame’s trap. Her people will be there as well. Many of them don’t have magic.”
“What?” That surprised Etta.
Matteo went on. “Like the patrol that chased us. Draconian magic has been weakening, diluted, and many are being born without it. Even La Dame doesn’t know why. She also has mercenaries from across the sea in her employ. They will have no mercy and their loyalty is probably the strongest of all because it’s based on gold.”
“What can we expect from La Dame?”
Matteo shook his head. “That I can’t say. She is an unpredictable force.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence and when the carriage finally stopped, Etta opened the door.
Towering above was the most magnificent sight she’d ever seen.
It was the castle that had once been her family’s home. Destroyed and remade, but still the same.
And she would take it back. La Dame didn’t belong here. Bela was the Basiles’ realm and it would be until there were no Basiles left to claim it.
The palace sat on a strip of land with a river separating it from the main road. The river carried water from the mountains before narrowing as it reached the cliffs and tumbled over, sending a brilliant waterfa
ll into the sea below. It was almost magical in quality and Etta had to tear her eyes from the sight to look up at the white-faced building that held both her wildest dreams and her greatest fears.
If she somehow survived the night and took up her birthright, would such a place ever feel like home to her? Pierre urged them over the wooden bridge. It creaked underneath her feet. Two massive doors hung open, revealing a long marble adorned hallway. Silk drapes fluttered as a light breeze rushed into the palace.
Each surface was gleaming white and untouched. It was breathtaking. The palace of Gaule was a harsh place in comparison. Tyson caught her eye as if he too had been thinking about the stone fortress across the border.
Their steps echoed along the vacant corridor.
“Where is everyone?” Edmund whispered.
Matteo was the one who answered. “Attendance at the ball is mandatory. Even for servants. They aren’t allowed to leave until La Dame gives them permission. Her magic would stop them even if they tried.” He gripped Etta’s elbow and held her back. “Are you sure about this? The door is right there. We can still try to make an escape.”
“I can’t.” She flattened a hand against the waist of her dress. “La Dame dressed me as a queen tonight. You see that plain as I do. So, I will be a queen. These are our people, Matteo. Yours and mine. After seeing that village, how could you want to forsake them?”
He rubbed his chin and gave a single short nod. “You’re right.”
She patted his arm. “One thing you’ll get used to, Cousin, is that I’m usually right.”
Edmund snorted beside her.
Matteo hastened his steps before stopping in front of a row of portraits hanging along the wall. The first was of a handsome man in battle uniform. His blonde hair shone underneath a cap and his eyes held an untold knowledge. But something about the smug set of his lips didn’t sit well with her.
“That’s Phillip.” Matteo pointed to the man.
Edmund gasped in front of the next portrait and when Etta saw what he did, her heart stopped beating. A beautiful woman looked down on them with joy on her face as she danced. That wasn’t what stopped Etta. It was the dress. She glanced down over the rose-colored gown she now wore. It had the same embroidered pink design and flowing skirts.
