by M. Lynn
A row of guards lined the inner wall, recognizing him. They made no move to stop him. A few men Edmund knew at the stables had stopped him to welcome his return. Tyson didn’t wait. Edmund would catch up.
Familiar walls greeted Tyson with shadows of the past. Tapestries that had hung in the halls since he was a child marked his way.
Outside the castle walls, Gaule was almost unrecognizable with its constant rebellions, dangerous roads, and starving people. But inside, all seemed right with the kingdom. Was this how his mother insulated herself from the problems facing her people? Did she stay among the paintings depicting great victories and prosperity, imagining they resembled the present world?
The serving staff seemed smaller than before, but people still bustled through the halls going about their morning tasks.
He’d visited enough to know his mother’s routine never changed. At this hour, she’d be sitting in the throne room, allowing select people to bring forth their troubles. It was a practice she’d adopted only after the battle with La Dame. She wanted to seem as if she truly cared about them.
The sad thing was, Tyson didn’t know if she actually did. The crown had changed his mother. She’d transformed from the loving woman she once was into a cold and unfeeling ruler he no longer recognized.
Two guards nodded to Tyson and allowed him entrance into the throne room. His eyes found his mother. She sat on the throne, her back straight, her eyes hard. In front of her stood a gaggle of Gaulean commoners.
The queen nodded, seemingly deep in thought, before addressing a woman nearby. “I understand your situation and will have my people look into it. The bandits will be apprehended.”
The woman thanked her, and the queen stood, her eyes sweeping the room. When they landed on Tyson, a spark of life entered them. It was gone just as quickly, and he wondered if he’d imagined it.
“I’m afraid that is all we have time for today.” She stepped off the raised platform and two guards escorted her to a private entrance at the side of the room.
“Sir,” a guard approached Tyson. “The queen has requested you come with me.”
Tyson nodded and followed him without a word. He didn’t need an escort. He knew where his mother was having him meet her. The private royal residence seemed so devoid of life with only the queen living there. Once upon a time, Tyson had shared the hall with his brother, sister, and both his parents. Even Etta lived there for a while.
His heart hurt for his mother and sudden regret had his steps speeding up. He’d dreaded returning home, forgetting his mother was all alone.
The guard knocked at the door to the queen’s sitting room before pushing it open. Tyson stepped inside, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. His mother stood with her back to him fiddling with a tray of mugs.
It was rare to get a moment alone with her. Duchess Moreau and Simon were her constant companions, but he’d seen neither of them.
The door closed behind him with a definitive slam. Tyson clasped his hands behind his back and waited for her to acknowledge him.
When his mother turned, she held a mug in each hand. “Tea?”
Tea? That was the first thing she had to say to him after all that had happened? The problem was, he didn’t have the words either. All he could do was step forward and accept the mug.
He studied her over the rim as he took a sip. Dark circles ringed her eyes where they sank into her lined face. She’d gained weight and her beautiful dark hair had streaks of gray.
His mother broke their gaze and walked to the settee facing a glowing fire. A chill setting into his limbs, Tyson followed her.
The weather had turned warm after a long winter, but the stone palace of Gaule always seemed cold no matter the season.
He’d sat on the same chairs many times before talking with his mother of every topic imaginable. They’d been close, and it hurt to feel the distance between them now.
He sat in a high-backed chair and set his cup on the table beside it before crossing his legs.
His mother set aside her tea as well. “It’s good to see you, Boy.”
He wanted to tell her he hadn’t been a boy since the day she told him of his true parentage.
But he didn’t. Instead, he forced a smile. “I’m glad to be home, Mother.” Lies.
She pursed her lips. “Tyson, let’s not pretend this is your home any longer. You only come when you have no other choice.”
He could have tried to refute her words, but he was so tired of lies. Instead, he lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
Her expression softened. “I know you are, dear. A lot has happened and we can’t change the past. I know what those in Bela and Madra think of me, but I’ve only ever done what I thought was right.”
He sighed. He knew she thought that. But what was right or wrong? Who got to decide what constituted as such?
“Gaule is in trouble, Tyson.” She leaned forward, folding her hands on her lap.
“That’s an understatement.”
Her lips tugged down. “Bandits roam the roads, cutting off supplies to the villages and killing my people. The royal guard now combs the countryside to keep the kingdom safe from those who would throw it further into chaos.”
“The guard?” Tyson scoffed. In his father’s day, royal guardsmen were no better than the bandits themselves.
His mother raised a brow. “These are my people, loyal and obedient. It is not the days of old. Every time they hang a thief, another comes to light. It is out of control.”
Tyson rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me. Didn’t you call me here because of Camille?”
Surprise etched across his mother’s face. “Tyson, I know your feelings about Gaule. I would never force the throne upon you.” She reached for his hand but thought better of it and pulled back. “Gaule would never accept a Belaen as king.”
Tension that had coiled in Tyson’s belly since reading the letter from Camille unraveled and he felt as if he could breathe again. “You need an heir, Mother.”
His mother’s hand rubbed over her stomach. “And I will have one. I do not plan on dying for many years yet.”
“No one ever plans…” He froze. “You’re…”
She nodded. “Tyson, I’m pregnant.”
A wave of relief washed over him. Another child. One they’d raise to rule Gaule. A brother or sister. He closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s wonderful news.”
When he opened his eyes, he noticed the glassy quality of hers and went to her, sinking into the settee. “What’s wrong, Mother?” When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “Why have you summoned me?”
When she lifted her eyes to his, a tear tracked down her cheek. “You’re the only one I trust to find him.”
“Find who?”
“Simon. He’s missing.”
Chapter Five
She shouldn’t be there. The palace was no longer a welcoming place to Amalie Leroy. She’d once been as a daughter to the queen. But that disappeared when they disagreed on her people’s fundamental rights and the way to achieve justice. It vanished when the royal guard seized her father’s estate, law or not.
Amalie no longer trusted anyone in power. They all had motives beyond the wellbeing of ordinary citizens.
She sat in the hall, eating too-rich foods beside guards and servants. There was another place for nobles and their parties to dine, but Amalie no longer thought of herself as one of them. To their eyes, she was Lady Leroy, always clad in beautiful gowns and adorned with jewels.
But in her mind, the only identity that mattered was the Hood.
A wall at the back of the hall depicted the kingdom’s most wanted criminals. The Hood’s image had no distinguishing features. The drawing, hanging among images of murderers and traitors, was of a man with a shadowy face.
Amalie stared into the stew before her, a similar dish to the food she served at her estate rather than the fancier meals the nobles would eat. She never wanted
to have more than her people did.
Tuck let out a belch beside her. At one time, she’d have flinched, but now she spent most of her life surrounded by vulgar men. He smoothed a hand over his sun-kissed hair and smiled in apology. She shrugged as she shoveled another spoonful into her mouth.
If only her father could see her now.
What would the great Lord Leroy think of his youngest daughter sitting among the common workers? What would her sister, Liza, say about her desire to make Gaule livable for the average man or woman?
Nothing. Because they were dead. Hanged as traitors to the crown. Amalie didn’t miss her father or her sister. She’d never known her mother as she’d died in childbirth.
So, it was just her. Once, she’d thought she was all alone.
She’d been wrong.
Commotion near the arched entryway jerked her from her thoughts as a recognizable blonde head ducked through. Amalie shrank in on herself. No one had told her Edmund was present at the castle.
From the looks of it, he’d just arrived.
His voice boomed across the open space as soldiers greeted him. “It sure is cold out there.”
Amalie watched the excitement surrounding her old friend, willing him not to spot her. He’d always been popular in the castle but returned home seldom these days.
Home. This wasn’t his anymore. He was not a man of Gaule.
As if her thoughts reached him, Edmund met her gaze. He froze for a moment, surprise widening his eyes, before a wide grin spread across his face. “Amalie Leroy,” he bellowed.
The surrounding soldiers turned to stare at her, no doubt recognizing the family name of the notorious traitor. She’d hoped to go unnoticed while at the palace, have an audience with the queen, and then leave with John in tow.
So much for that plan. With a sigh, she pushed herself up from the table. Tuck, ever the watch dog, stood at her side.
“You know him?” He nodded toward Edmund.
“Yes.”
Edmund reached them and pulled her into a hug before she could stop him. He squeezed so tightly she worried her eyes would pop out of her head.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Edmund. In fact, her fondness for him knew no end. But being near him reminded her of what she’d once wanted. What she’d given up.
She pushed at his chest and he released her.
“What are you doing at the palace?” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Ty told me you no longer came here.”
Hearing his name sent a chill up her spine. She stepped closer to Tuck, reminding herself that he and John were her present and future. Edmund and Tyson represented the past.
If Edmund knew she spent her nights running through the woods chasing unsuspecting traders, he’d never look at her the same way.
But everyone would find out why she’d come as soon as she spoke to the queen.
Edmund, as if sensing her discomfort, reached for her hand. “I’m not hungry anymore. Let’s go.”
He led her out of the hall and through the entryway, pushing out into the starlit night. Tuck followed. Out in the courtyard, only a few guards lingered. Edmund dropped her hand and sat on the step, leaning his back against the stone barrier. He said nothing, but his eyes never left her face.
Avoiding his obvious question, Amalie asked one she’d already heard the answer to through rumors spreading across Gaule. “I heard congratulations are in order.”
He raised a brow.
“Last I saw you, the princess of Madra was looking for a way back to her kingdom. I’ve heard she now sits on the throne and suspect you had something to do with that.”
He shrugged. “Actually, it was mostly her. She wasn’t given that crown. She took it.”
“And you saved the boy.” Amalie smirked.
Edmund’s expression turned sheepish. “Well… Stev.”
She grinned. “Are you blushing, Edmund?”
“No.” He turned his head so she couldn’t see his face any longer, and she laughed.
After a beat of silence, Amalie gestured beside her. “This is Tuck.”
Edmund pinned her with a stare again. “Now that we know who everyone is, tell me why you’re here.”
Amalie sighed and hugged her arms across her chest as she sat on the step above Edmund. “A friend of mine has been arrested.”
Edmund jerked his head back in surprise. “I did not expect that answer.”
Worry had her tugging the ends of her hair. What was happening to John in those dungeons? Had they tended to his wound? “He was caught stealing from a group of traders.”
Sympathy entered his gaze. They both knew what happened to thieves.
“Why are you here?” Her voice shook as her mind stayed with John.
Edmund spoke as if she should have known the answer to her own question. “I came with the prince.”
The prince.
Tyson.
He was here.
The blood froze in her veins as her heart refused to pump in its shattered state. She sucked in a breath and her lungs expanded painfully. The last she’d seen him was months ago when Tyson showed up at her door. If it weren’t for the wounded man with him, she would have turned him away.
But here, in the palace where they first became friends, it felt as if seeing him would break the remaining parts of her soul. As if it would unravel every long held secret inside her.
Long fingers slid against hers as Edmund gripped her hand. “Hey, you okay?”
She thought she nodded but wasn’t sure if she’d managed the movement.
Edmund tapped a finger under her chin and tilted it up so she had no choice but to look at him. “Amalie, what happened between you and Tyson?”
She shook her head. “He never told you?”
Edmund sighed. “About two years ago, Tyson stopped journeying into Gaule. He would no longer visit his mother unless she summoned him. He ceased speaking of you. But it was more than that… Amalie, it was like he stopped living. I was away in Madra for much of that time, but when I returned, he wasn’t the same man I’d known.”
The words should have comforted Amalie, knowing he’d had as hard a time as she had after everything he’d done, but instead, a tear slid down her cheek.
She pictured the young prince’s smiling face as he raced through the castle tunnels when they were children. The way his cheeks grew red when he looked at her. His mindless determination to protect those he loved.
He’d been everything she could dream of. But their match hadn’t been fate. Their paths weren’t meant to intersect. She’d known that the moment he refused to come when she needed him most.
“Amalie.” Edmund scooted to her side, and it was only then she realized Tuck had left to give them privacy.
Amalie had never told most of her men about her romance with the prince. They wouldn’t understand. They knew she’d had someone who let her down, but the man was a mystery. She surrounded herself with people who had only ill thoughts of the crown and the nobility. Except for Tuck. He’d known because he came into her life when Tyson was still there and everything was perfect. Before she’d known perfection didn’t last.
Then there was John, the friend she’d counted on when Tyson wasn’t there for her. He never brought up Tyson’s name and Amalie had always been grateful for that.
“I don’t want to talk about Tyson, Edmund.” She tried to shift away from him, but he pulled her closer into his side.
“I’ve known you too long not to meddle. You’re both here, and you obviously still care about him. So, why don’t you talk?”
She shrugged off his arm and stood, smoothing down the dress she had to wear to play the part of a lady. “You’re wrong, Edmund. Tyson Durand means nothing to me. He never did.” The lie was still on her tongue when she turned on her heel and came face to face with the boy she wished she’d never known.
Chapter Six
Three years ago
“I think I could stay like this forever.” Tyso
n sighed in contentment as he smoothed a calloused hand down Amalie’s bare back.
She rested her cheek against his chest and traced the ridges of his stomach with light brushes of her fingertips. “I do too. You know why?” She propped herself up on her hands, letting her hair hang about her creamy shoulders as early morning light streaked through the window, illuminating her skin.
He’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Tell me.”
“Because I have you right where I want you.” She leaned down to press her lips to his. “Under my power.”
He smiled against her lips. “Completely under your power. Enthralled. Entranced. Yours.”
“Mine.” She kissed him again, pressing her chest against his.
A knock at the door stopped their morning before it began. Amalie buried her face in his neck and laughed.
“Breakfast is ready,” a gruff voice called in.
“Thank you, sir,” Tyson answered. “We’ll be there in a few moments.”
They listened for his footsteps to fade away. They’d stopped in a border village on their way to the Leroy lands, bringing Amalie home for the first time since her father was hanged.
Much of the village was damaged and many of the people had left in the weeks leading to the battle with La Dame, but they’d managed to find an inn.
Amalie rolled off Tyson, and they each pulled their clothes on before stopping at the door for one final kiss.
In the dining room, an older woman greeted them with a smile. “It’s always nice having young people in residence who are just beginning their lives together… Even if the walls are thin.” She winked.
Tyson laughed, and Amalie slapped his arm as the woman hurried away.
He leaned in. “She thinks we’re married.”
“And we need to keep it that way.”
Tyson wound an arm around her waist. “What if we did it? What if you returned to your father’s lands as not only the rightful duchess, but one married to a prince?”
