Glass Princess

by M. Lynn

  She turned to Etta who still stood ogling her husband. “Are you busy today?”

  Etta raised an eyebrow. “Nah. I’m not the queen of an entire kingdom or anything.”

  “I’m done watching for someone to come help me. Quinn may be out there still, but I can’t keep wasting time. You say Bela won’t aid Madra, but Madra isn’t alone. They still have me. Train me to fight.”

  Dell choked on a laugh. “Len, what do you know about fighting?”

  She scowled, swinging her gaze around the room. Tyson, Alex, and Matteo glanced away. Edmund stayed quiet.

  Etta considered her response. “When I turned eighteen, I had to enter a tournament, fighting to the death to protect that oaf.” She pointed to her husband. “Every single man I met laughed at me.” She leaned forward. “And you know what I did?”

  Helena shook her head.

  A gleeful glint entered Etta’s gaze. “Beat them.” She turned to the others surrounding them. “Matteo, clear my calendar. I will be occupied today.”

  The queen’s cousin shook his head. “Not today, Etta. We have meetings all day with the traders from Dracon and Gaule. Then you’re scheduled to hold court this afternoon.”

  Etta waved his words off. “You can handle the meetings, oh trusted one. Alex will join you. Take Edmund too. He knows this kingdom as well as anyone and it’ll occupy his mind.”

  Edmund started to protest, but one look from Etta shut him up.

  “Grab some food, Helena. I don’t intend to be easy on you.”

  Helena piled food onto a plate and took her seat next to Dell.

  “You sure about this?” he asked.

  “Never been more sure of anything.”

  “Persinette Basile is one of the greatest fighters there is.”

  “Then there’s no one else I want training me to return to Madra.” She bit into her food.

  “You really want to go back?” He eyed her skeptically.

  “Do you believe in me, Dell?”

  He nodded without hesitation. “Of course I do.”

  “Then please… shut up.”

  One corner of his mouth tilted up. “Well, okay then. But I get to watch.”

  Chapter Four

  Dell sat with his back resting against a felled tree and bent one knee. The chill of the ground permeated his clothing, but it didn’t bother him as he focused on the piece of soft wood in his hands. He didn’t know what it was to be yet, but that wasn’t unusual. He never looked too far ahead of himself. His hands knew what to do. They’d create while his mind was elsewhere.

  He gripped the knife between his thumb and forefinger as he dug in.

  Etta and Helena stood facing each other. Etta held two long staves in her hands. She tossed one to Helena.

  Helena snatched it out of the air.

  Etta nodded in approval. “I’ve seen you out here with your knives, Helena. You have good hand-eye coordination.”

  Knives? What was the Belaen queen talking about? Len was about as unthreatening as a princess could get. What did she know of knives?

  “Thank you.” Helena’s fingers loosened and squeezed in anticipation.

  “I wouldn’t thank me yet. Coordination is only the beginning. To best someone in a fight, it takes quick thinking, agility, and anger.”

  “Anger?”

  Etta twirled the staff in one hand. “Oh yes, that’s the most important part. We aren’t made to fight one another, to hurt each other… unless given a reason. The difference between someone who has what it takes and someone who doesn’t is the ability to channel that anger, to use it and mold it.”

  Len’s jaw tightened, and she swallowed. “I have plenty of anger.”

  Dell had seen the darkness growing within her for weeks. His entire life, he’d been mistreated and betrayed by his family. To him, it was life. To her, it was a tragedy and a betrayal.

  A slow smile spread across Etta’s face. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  The intensity in Helena’s gaze hadn’t existed before. Dell remembered the softness in her eyes even when she fought with him on the beach. The sweetness when he kissed her at the ball. But then, he’d never truly known her. The girl who roamed the city streets was not the same one who hid behind a mask for most of her life.

  Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes away from her.

  He set the wood aside and leaned forward against his knees.

  Etta circled Helena and Len turned to face her once more, letting her staff drop just enough to give Etta an opening.

  The Belaen queen smacked Len’s weapon away, and the wood cracked against Len’s stomach.

  “I asked if you were ready,” Etta yelled. “Do not lower your weapon. Ever.”

  Helena bit back the pain Dell knew she must have felt and raised her staff. Etta’s next attack didn’t take her by surprise. She knocked it away only to be smacked across the back.

  She fell onto her hands and knees.

  “Get up,” Etta demanded.

  Dell jumped to his feet. Helena was no warrior, and Etta went too far.

  “No, Dell,” Helena wheezed. “I’m okay.” She released a ragged cough. Picking up her staff, she stood at the ready again.

  Etta advanced with a flurry of moves. Helena stumbled back, blocking them as best she could. Etta kicked out with her foot, catching Helena’s stomach and sending her onto her butt.

  Helena grimaced, her breath wheezing in her chest.

  “Are you angry yet, Princess?” Etta asked. “Or has that been bred out of you too?”

  Dell tried to move forward, but Etta pinned him with a glare. “If you interfere, we will find out just how inadequate with a sword you are, boy.”

  Even with Alex training him, Dell knew he’d be no match for Etta. The stories of her skill had spread through Madra like wildfire. But he didn’t sit down until Helena stood.

  “I’m okay, Dell.” She trained her eyes on Etta. “Again.”

  Etta lunged forward, but Helena twisted out of the way.

  “Come on, Princess,” Etta taunted. “Forget all the decorum they have taught you. Don’t hide your emotions in a fight. Show me your anger.”

  Helena struck but there was no force behind the blow.

  “You can do better than that.” Etta scowled. “Do you know how I won my first tournament?”

  Helena shook her head.

  “I hated them. Every blasted one of them—including Alex. Including Tyson. I wanted to kill them all. The only person I’ve ever shown mercy to is Edmund when I chose not to kill him.”

  Dell gaped at her. The stories were true? Etta fought for her life in order to take up a position in the royal household of Gaule. But Edmund… why had he been in the tournament? And now she was married to Alexandre Durand.

  Priest, he needed an ale.

  Etta continued. “Mercy is not something you give your enemies. It’s something you give when you decide someone is not your enemy. Who are your enemies, Princess? If the time comes, will you be merciless?”

  A war raged in Helena’s eyes, but she did not speak.

  Etta advanced. “Your brother betrayed you. He killed your father. Your mother.” She leaned in. “Estevan.”

  Tears tracked down Helena’s face.

  “Quinn isn’t coming to help you, Helena.”

  Dell saw the moment those words registered. Helena lashed out, bringing her staff down with such force the collision with Etta’s weapon echoed among the trees.

  Helena didn’t stop there, pushing Etta back and swinging the long weapon over her head. Etta blocked each move, grinning as she did.

  She was insane. There was no other way to describe this foreign queen. She pushed and pushed, goading Helena into action.

  After a while, Etta lowered her staff, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat gleaned on both women’s faces.

  Helena wiped her brow on her sleeve.

  “Okay, Princess. Now I believe you’re more than a pretty face.” Etta pushed
her golden hair away from her sticky face.

  “Don’t call me Princess. I may have lived my entire life behind the high walls of a palace, but I’m not there anymore. I can’t be that girl in the pretty dresses who throws knives in secret and hides from the world. My family deserves better than that.”

  Etta laughed. “We just might make a warrior of you yet, Pr-Helena.”

  Dell stood but vines crept over his legs, holding him in place. “Stay there, boy,” Etta commanded. He gaped at the growing greenery.

  “Magic,” he whispered. He’d only witnessed Edmund, Mari, and Corban using their powers, and it never shocked him any less.

  Etta tilted her head. “We aren’t done yet. Now that we know you have the will to fight, I can teach you how. I could have dealt a killing blow at least ten times during your burst of attacks.”

  Helena seemed to deflate, her unsure eyes seeking his.

  “You can do this, Len.” He offered her a smile. “I know you can.”

  She gave him a nod. “No one will ever best me again.” She turned to Etta. “I have to be able to protect Kassander. He is all I have left.”

  “Then let’s begin.” Etta gestured to the center of the clearing and took up her stance.

  The last time Dell had ridden a horse, it was just after a fight he’d lost and it had taken everything he had just to stay on the beast. But he’d had Helena to hold on to.

  Now, it was just Dell and the open land. When he’d borrowed the horse from Alex, he hadn’t had a destination in mind.

  Helena and Etta were practicing every evening now, and he left them to another night of sparring and bruises. Len refused to allow Corban to heal them. She’d said she wanted to feel everything, that it made her a better fighter.

  But he hated seeing her porcelain skin mottled with stains of blue and purple. He couldn’t stand another night of watching the women battle.

  He hadn’t planned a visit to the lookout post, but he soon found himself on the winding trail through rock and underbrush. Aron sat at the top of the hill outside the small shack. A lilting melody drifted from the miniature guitar in his lap.

  He kept his eyes on the horizon where the sun sank beneath the trees.

  “Isn’t there supposed to be a different watchman at night?” Dell asked.

  Startled, Aron’s hands stilled on the guitar. “I enjoy this time of night. As soon as the sun disappears, I’ll head down to the village. This outpost is useless at night, but the night watch rides through the woods near town until daybreak. They’re already out there, I’m guessing.”

  Dell nodded as he scanned the trees below. “Has there been anything?”

  What was he expecting? New word on Quinn? If Aron knew anything, he’d tell Etta and Alex.

  The big man sighed. “I wish I had better news for Helena.”

  Dell had long since lost hope in her reuniting with Quinn. The man was either dead or a traitor to his family.

  A commotion below had Dell and Aron both jumping forward to get a better look. Two horses thundered through the forest as if their tails were on fire.

  “Dell,” Aron said calmly. “You brought your horse?”

  Dell nodded.

  “I think it’d be a very good idea for you to beat those travelers to the queen and king. One of those riders is wearing Madran red.”

  Dell didn’t hesitate. He sprinted around the shack to where he’d tied Alex’s horse and untied the knot before climbing on.

  He kicked his heels into the horse’s flanks and took off down the now dark path, slowing along treacherous turns and tilting too far to the right in the saddle. For a moment, he didn’t know who was in charge – him or the horse. As soon as he reached the bottom of the hill, he nudged the beast into a canter, regaining his balance.

  As he neared the village, torches illuminated the night. The few people who still lingered in the streets scrambled out of the way.

  When he reached the palace, he slid down, not bothering to tether the horse before pushing inside.

  Etta and Alex were the only two present near the fire. Upon seeing Dell’s face, Etta sat up from where she’d reclined on her husband’s lap.

  “Dell, what is it?”

  Dell swallowed. “Two riders are making their way through the forest. Aron saw them through the trees. One of them is Madran.”

  Etta shot to her feet, the mask of a queen firmly in place. “Do not speak to Helena of this. Not until we know who these riders are.” She turned to her husband. “Find Edmund. I think he’s at the tavern in the village. If he’s done drinking his sorrow away, tell him I need him by my side.”

  She rushed to the door. “Dell, come with me.”

  He scrambled after her. They walked across the bridge and waited until they heard the sound of horses making their way through the village.

  Where were the guards? In fact, he couldn’t remember ever seeing Etta with guards. He guessed when loyal magic folk surrounded her, she had enough protection.

  As the riders left the cobblestone street of the village, tall grasses sprung from the ground halting their advance. Dell’s eyes widened as vines snaked up the horse’s flanks.

  “Your Majesty,” a voice called out. The darkness hid their faces.

  Etta froze. “Simon?” She ran forward as the vines and grass receded.

  A brawny man with chiseled features slid down to face her. They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “What are you doing here, Simon?”

  Dell watched in confusion. Who was that man?

  The second man dismounted and Dell stepped back. Him, he recognized. Landon Rhodipus. A distant cousin of Helena’s who was famous for leading the Madran units in the war against La Dame.

  “General?” Etta looked between the two men.

  “I am sorry, your Majesty.” Landon bowed his head. “But we must intrude on your peace here to speak with you. We’ve ridden for days, abandoning our posts to be here.”

  Etta nodded, glancing back at the small palace. “Come inside. It’s cold out here.” She walked past Dell and the two men followed. “I’ll have someone tend to your horses.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty.” Simon inclined his head.

  She led them into the great room, walking straight to the table along the far wall where a pitcher of wine sat beside a tray of goblets. She poured one for each of them as they all sat.

  “This is Dell Tenyson.” She pointed to him.

  “Tenyson?” Landon’s eyes flicked to his. “Your Majesty, are you aware that the Tenysons have aided in the takeover of Madra?”

  “Yes, General,” she snapped. “I will explain his presence once you explain yours. Dell, meet General Landon and Simon, personal guard to the queen of Gaule.”

  Dell reeled back. His appearance couldn’t mean anything good.

  “Has something happened to Catrine?” Etta folded her arms across her chest.

  “Other than her daughter being held by a usurper?” Simon pinned Etta with a stare.

  “It is my understanding that Camille is still in Madra because Catrine has chosen to honor the alliance.”

  Simon shook his head. “They’re using Camille as a pawn.”

  “It’s true,” Landon piped in. “Her safety is a bargaining chip Cole Rhodipus is using to bring his brother Quinn home.” When Cole stole the crown of Bela, his twin was in Gaule with his army unit. He’d had no role in the takeover and no one knew which side he’d choose.

  A new voice entered the room. “Are you saying the queen of Gaule has my brother?”

  Dell’s eyes snapped to Helena in the doorway. Fire burned in her gaze. The sudden silence from Simon and Landon was answer enough.

  Helena waited for someone to voice what she now knew. She’d recognized Landon as soon as she peered into the room. It’d been years since she’d seen her cousin and they’d never been close, but he was still someone from home, someone who’d known her without the mask.

  “Helena.” Her name slipped
from his lips like a prayer as he stood. His eyes widened. “The reports said you were dead.” He swallowed thickly. “That everyone was…”

  “Dead?” she finished for him. “Tell me, cousin, are you behind Cole? He had the support of the army, your army.”

  “No, Helena.” He took a step toward her.

  She stepped back.

  “I would never betray your father.”

  Her father’s loyalists weren’t much better than Cole’s. They still tore the kingdom apart.

  But those loyal to her father would be loyal to her.

  “I believe you.” She wrung her hands together. “Now, tell me where Quinn is.”

  Simon rubbed a hand across his face. “That is why I came here with Landon.”

  Landon returned to his seat and nodded. “I heard rebellious rumblings among my troops long before they revolted. By the time Quinn arrived in Gaule, they’d already chosen their sides. The rebels received orders to make haste back to Madra. Their mission was to return Quinn to his twin’s side. So, they attacked. Most of the loyalists were killed outright, but I escaped with Quinn. We sought refuge from the queen of Gaule.”

  Simon scratched his face, exhaustion drawing down the corners of his eyes. “Word reached the new Madran king that his brother was in Gaule. He sent a messenger to inform Queen Catrine should she choose not to return Quinn to his rightful place, her daughter would suffer for it.”

  “Camille.” Helena covered her mouth with her hand. They’d had no choice but to leave Camille in Madra, thinking she’d be safe as long as Cole needed the Gaulean alliance.

  Before anyone got another word in, the door burst open, revealing two stumbling men and a third holding them up.

  “Found Edmund.” Alex grinned. His smile dropped as he took in their companions. “What’s going on? Simon, is my mother…”

  “She’s sitting on the edge of a moral precipice, but otherwise in good health.” Simon stood to greet the king.

  Confusion flashed across Alex’s face as he shoveled both Edmund and Tyson into chairs. “Sorry about these two. They’re both going through rough times.” He reached out and clasped Simon’s hand. “Tell me what I’ve missed.”