Golden Chains

by M. Lynn

  Etta fingered the necklace resting against her skin, an identical match.

  She knew who it was without asking. “Aurora,” she breathed.

  The woman’s long, golden hair sat in an ornate style atop her head. No doubt Etta would be wearing the same style if she hadn’t shorn off her tresses.

  “She’s made you into her.” Tyson stared with a mix of wonder and fear.

  “Aurora and Phillip were the Basiles she cursed. But Aurora died before the true weight of La Dame’s vengeance could be felt.” Matteo turned away from the portraits.

  Etta wasn’t prepared for this. Was she supposed to follow in her ancestors footsteps? She knew little of Aurora, but was connected to her. If it hadn’t been for them, Bela may not have been destroyed. They betrayed La Dame by crossing into Dracon and stealing from her. They condemned their people, their family to this fate.

  Would Etta do the same for Alex? If he were dying, would she choose him over her people?

  She hated that she didn’t know the answer to that. And in that moment, she knew without a doubt, she loved Alex like Phillip had loved Aurora. She’d protect him always.

  She was no different than the king and queen she hated because of the curse that had fallen to her.

  Pierre appeared behind them, snapping her from the realizations that shook her to her core. “Come. Now.”

  In silence, they followed Pierre and Maiya who hadn’t said a word since the village. Their betrayal would always burn within her, but this wasn’t about them. Not anymore. La Dame was putting her into a role for the grandest act yet. She would play her part well.

  If Etta had to become Aurora, she would.

  Her glass slippers clacked against the floor in time with her heart. When they reached the wide mahogany doors, they stopped. Music drifted from the hall and Etta steeled herself.

  Beckoning Tyson and Matteo forward, she offered them her arms. Edmund would go first and then the Basiles. Together.

  The people beyond those doors didn’t belong to La Dame. It was time the Basiles claimed their kingdom once more.

  The doors opened with a low grown and the music stopped abruptly. The chatter died off as the people turned to stare. A fork clattered against a plate as the rightful queen and princes of Bela stepped forward as one.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Wonderful,” La Dame’s voice boomed. “You have arrived.” She turned to the crowd. “May I introduce Queen Persinette Basile?”

  Gasps rang out in the crowd.

  “Here in Bela, Persinette translates into another name. An ancient one.” Her lip curled and Etta held her breath. “Join me in welcoming Rapunzel Basile.”

  An excited chatter wound through the room.

  Etta leaned into Matteo. “Did you know?”

  He shook his head.

  La Dame raised a hand to silence the assembly. “You have all met the princes Matteo and Tyson Basile. Join me in welcoming them back into our fold.”

  Edmund was ignored as he melted in with the crowd to find any information they could use.

  Etta fought for her breath and squeezed Tyson’s hand as he shook beside her.

  La Dame descended the marble staircase from the balcony and made her way past tables of onlookers and a full orchestra.

  When she reached them, she curtsied low. “Your Majesty.” She rose with a gleam in her eye. “Not going to curtsy for me? I am Queen of Dracon after all. And almost Queen of Bela too.”

  Etta gritted her teeth. The only way she’d ever cede Bela was if she was dead, which was a real possibility.

  “I have a throne prepared for you.” La Dame waved her hand in an arc toward a golden throne.

  The crowd parted for Etta to walk through and examine it. “It’s identical to the throne in Gaule.” It’s high back rose up with a line of sapphire jewels stretching across the top. The wide seat lay between two curved arms that had a pattern carved into them. She’d never noticed the details in the chair in Gaule that made the chair look as if it was encircled in golden hair, the jewels at the top acting as the crown.

  A grin stretched La Dame’s thin lips. “I crafted that one as well. Gaule, Bela, and Dracon have always been connected. They will always be connected.”

  The cold of the hard throne permeated the fabric of Etta’s dress as she sat cautiously, perched on the edge as if she didn’t belong.

  It was her kingdom. The place where her family’s palace had stood. Her ancestors’ portraits were even hanging in the hall. But it felt wrong. La Dame flashed her another smile and sat on the smaller throne beside her. The boys were left to stand.

  Etta scanned the room, looking for any sign of Alex, just needing to know he was okay. Had the blast of magic in the tower hit him as well? He was nowhere to be seen, but she didn’t stop watching for his handsome face.

  The dancing began again. Skirts swishing. Feet stomping in time with the beat. Bright smiles plastered across the faces of the revelers. Was anything here real?

  Her people looked as if they were enjoying themselves, but something was off. They were prisoners, weren’t they?

  “I don’t see my father.” Matteo clasped his arms in front of him, his eyes sweeping the area in front of him.

  La Dame’s smile didn’t waver as she dropped her voice. “Warren was useful to me for a great many years. But with Persinette on the way, I found I had one too many Basiles. Plus, I needed someone to help me make a point to young Alexandre.”

  A crease formed in Matteo’s brow. “He’s…”

  “Dead, yes. I thought I made that quite clear, Matty boy.”

  Etta reached out to squeeze his hand and La Dame scowled.

  “Sorrow is a useless emotion, Matteo. I’d hate to think you were so weak as to mourn a man who never loved you. I mean, how could he when you killed your mother on the day you were born. Once he learned of Persinette’s existence, you meant even less to him because you were not the heir.” She regarded him closely. “Cheer up, my boy. I did you a great favor.”

  Someone walked forward and whispered in La Dame’s ear. She got to her feet. “I’ll be back.”

  Etta rubbed her hands up and down her arms, avoiding the eyes that kept flicking toward her throughout the room. No one approached, but they were all aware of her presence.

  “Are you okay?” She squeezed Matteo’s hand again.

  He breathed heavily. “She wasn’t wrong. There was little love between my father and me. But for so long, he was the only family I had.”

  “You’ve got us now.” Tyson clapped him on the shoulder.

  “I don’t like this.” Edmund changed the subject as he leaned against the side of her throne, a clear threat to anyone who even considered coming near. “She didn’t bring us here to dance and eat.”

  “Of course she didn’t.” Matteo scowled. “She brought us here to destroy a queen.”

  Someone began to sing and his voice wrapped the room in its warmth. Etta lurched to her feet as Alex came onto center stage. His eyes found her immediately and he gave his head a tiny shake. She couldn’t help him.

  The song he sang was a mournful melody of loss, but his voice was rich with a deep raspy tone.

  A laugh burst from Tyson’s mouth and Etta couldn’t fault him. In their desperation, what else could they do?

  “Did you know he could sing?” Etta asked.

  Edmund and Tyson’s silence was answer enough. But why was he singing? As soon as the question entered her mind, an answer struck her. It was another of La Dame’s humiliations. The king of Gaule had been turned into nothing more than a court performer.

  His eyes burned into her as his words made the hair on her arms stand on end.

  It was wrong. This was wrong.

  She’d come prepared for a fight. Not this.

  Where was her sword when she needed it? Oh, right. They’d taken that too. La Dame stood to the side of the stage talking to a few well-dressed attendees, but her eyes never left Etta and one corner of her mout
h tilted up into a smirk.

  “Etta.” Matteo took hold of her arm. “You need to calm down.”

  “Why?” Etta and Edmund asked at the same time.

  Matteo sighed as if he was talking to children. “You two are too impulsive. We’re going to take her down, but to do it here would mean putting these people in danger.”

  It all clicked. Every action. Every word. And Etta understood. La Dame was scared of the legends. Only the ancient power of the Basiles could destroy her. She didn’t know Etta possessed little more than parlor tricks.

  “She fears me.”

  Matteo nodded. “And she’s counting on your family’s history of protecting their people to give her more time.”

  Etta’s jaw clenched, but Edmund pulled her away. “Let’s dance.”

  She tried to stop him. “I don’t dance.”

  “I seem to remember you dancing with a certain king from Gaule. Come on. I need to talk to you.”

  Pairs parted to give them an ample amount of space and Edmund held out his hand in front of him with a bow. A few ladies nearby sighed. Etta rolled her eyes and took his hand while he put the other on her waist.

  “Just playing to the crowd, my dear.” He flashed her a dimpled grin, and all sound faded away. Even Alex’s words disappeared in the zone of Edmund’s magic.

  “We want the people here on our side,” he explained.

  “They will be. I’m their heir.”

  He spun her around, the glass slippers causing her to stumble. Catching her around the waist, he leaned close. “We need to do something. Matteo wants to let this play out, but we can’t sit around while she’s within reach.”

  They danced, and they planned. Everything they’d discussed before the ball, every plot, had dissolved as soon as they arrived. After a few more dances, Alex stepped from the stage and disappeared behind it.

  “Go time.” Edmund released her and they hurried over to their seats.

  “Tyson.” Etta grabbed his arm. “I need you to come with me. Matteo, you’re with Edmund. It’s time we play by our own rules.” She turned to Edmund. “I’m counting on you.”

  Matteo tried to argue, but Etta didn’t stay to hear. Instead, she gripped Tyson’s hands and pulled him into a dance. “Smile. Act like we’re doing nothing but enjoying the ball.”

  “She’d have to be delusional to believe that,” Tyson said.

  Her heart slowed dangerously as every one of her muscles waited, praying Edmund wouldn’t let her down. He never had before.

  The screams began after a few minutes from the far end of the long room. The curtains framing a tall window overlooking the dark, fathomless sea caught fire. Her eyes found Edmund using his magic to fan the flames as Matteo touched a torch to another piece of fabric.

  “Come on.” Etta started to run. She didn’t know where La Dame was, but Edmund would get the people out of the room.

  Her feet pounded against marble as she rounded the stage to find Alex sitting on the steps behind it with his head in his hands.

  “Alex.”

  At the sound of her voice, he looked up.

  “Come on.” Etta reached him, panting. “We have to go.”

  “You should get out of here, Etta.” His voice was bland, emotionless.

  “Not without you.”

  “You can’t save me.”

  She latched onto his arm and started to pull. “Why won’t you come? You have to come now. Please, Alex.”

  He stared through her to his brother. “I can’t do that.”

  She dropped down in front of him and yelled, “Why not?” Tears clogged in her throat. She had him right in front of her and he’d never felt so far away.

  “Go. Get out before she traps you.”

  Etta looked back at Tyson frantically needing some backup, but the torture she saw in his eyes tore at her.

  “He can’t come.” Tyson’s voice was quiet.

  “What do you mean?” Etta screamed at both of them.

  Tyson met his brother’s eye. “She told you to sit there, didn’t she?”

  Alex’s shoulders dropped. “Please. Go.”

  More screams reverberated around the room. “This place is going to go up in flames. You have to come!”

  “Persinette.” The voice sent a chill down her spine as La Dame found them. “It’s no use. I’m quite vexed at you for ruining my ballroom, but it was all for nothing it seems. Your pretty little king is mine and will remain until I release him.” She turned. “Alexandre, come.”

  Alex rose to his feet and followed her without even an argument. Etta ran after them, Tyson close behind.

  With a wave of La Dame’s hand, the doors to the room slammed shut with a startling finality.

  La Dame raised her voice. “Stop screaming.” The mob obeyed. “Sit where you are.” As one, they dropped to the floor as the flames lit the final curtain, spurred on by Edmund’s remaining magic.

  “Edmund, come.”

  Edmund stopped what he was doing and walked mechanically to where they stood. La Dame shoved Alex toward him and ordered them to sit.

  Two meaty hands wrapped around Etta’s arms and she was forced to her knees, her magic useless when there were no living plants nearby.

  Tyson picked up a wine goblet and tossed it into the air, using his magic to expand the wine as it shot like a dagger toward La Dame’s chest.

  She held up a palm, and it stopped mid-air before dropping to the floor. Her heels clicked as she stepped over the burgundy puddle to face Tyson. “I may not be able to force you to bend to my will, Basile, but I won’t have you soiling this room any more than your friends already have. A guard crept up behind Tyson and Etta’s scream died in her throat as he knocked him over the head. The prince crumpled as if he had no bones in his body.

  Tendrils of smoke wound through the room and the people of Bela began to cough and choke.

  “See what you’ve done?” La Dame asked. “I could put the fire out but I believe in actions having consequences.”

  “Let them go.” Etta ground her teeth together.

  “Their fate is of your own making.” She turned to the crowd. “The woman you proclaim as queen has betrayed you and sentenced you all to die. Just like Aurora and Phillip.”

  Etta’s eyes drifted down to her dress, realizing for the first time why she was dressed as Aurora. Her ancestors starting the destruction of Bela. La Dame was showing them Etta was no better than them.

  La Dame smirked down at her as if she’d won.

  “Matty boy,” she cooed. “Come to your mother.”

  “You are not my mother,” he spat, not moving an inch.

  “Ah, but I raised you. I know you enough to know you hold no power in your blood. It’s Persinette who surprises me. I’d assumed a daughter of Viktor would have stronger magic than yours.” She paused. “There is one thing she has that you lack, Matty.” Her eyes narrowed as she stopped in front of Alex.

  “Alexandre, stand.” He did.

  One of her guards held out a knife to him hilt first.

  “Take it.”

  Once again, Alex obeyed.

  Etta watched in horror, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs.

  “Good boy.” La Dame traced a line on her own arm with her finger and Alex pressed the knife against his skin. Blood beaded around the blade and his hands shook as he tried to fight it.

  “Alex,” Etta cried. “Please. You can fight her. Don’t let her win.”

  His lips pressed together and sweat broke out across his forehead. His chest heaved with the effort. The blade moved and didn’t stop until a design was carved into Alex’s arm.

  Etta bit back the pain as red lines appeared on her own skin, glowing beneath the surface.

  Guilt pooled in the depths of Alex’s eyes . Crimson blood ran the length of his arm.

  “It’s okay.” Etta sucked in a breath. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “It’s okay. I trust you, Alex. I love you. It’s okay.”

 
“You shouldn’t have come for me.”

  His words shattered something inside her. She tried to crawl toward him, but La Dame’s guards held her in place.

  Edmund thrashed beside him on the floor, wanting to break free of La Dame’s magic.

  “Your concern is touching.” Magic shot from La Dame’s hand and struck Alex at full force. He flew into the air before slamming back to the ground. Etta felt it all. She screamed as his bones broke.

  “Stop!”

  Matteo dropped down beside where Etta was now curled in on herself. He pulled her into his arms. “Don’t forget who you are,” he whispered.

  Who she was? She was nothing. A girl who’d failed at the one thing she’d trained her entire life for. Protecting the king. Saving Alex.

  Matteo helped her sit up again as pain radiated through every inch of her body. Alex barely moved, but a groan rumbled in his chest.

  Edmund balled his hands into fists, but there was nothing he could do while under La Dame’s power.

  “Why?” Etta screamed. “Why do you want to destroy us? Do you have no soul?”

  La Dame laughed, and it angered Etta more. “Your king asked me the same question as I marred every inch of his skin. The Basiles stole everything from me.” Her crazed eyes darted between them.

  “Everything? Generations ago, Phillip stole a weed to heal his wife and now you’re still bent on vengeance. Why don’t you kill us off once and for all?”

  “Death is too good for those of the Basile line,” she sneered. “A weed? You call her a weed? I know the stories. They name the healing weed rampion. But to me, she was Rapunzel.”

  “She?” Matteo asked desperately.

  “Rapunzel was no weed. She was a healer. Phillip Basile stole my daughter and so I have stolen every child of his line.”

  Tears clung to Etta’s lashes. “You lie.” As she said the words, she knew how false they were. The truth was written across La Dame’s face. Healing magic only existed in Dracon. Phillip doomed Bela by betraying the most powerful woman in the world in the worst possible way.