by M. Lynn
She shook the thought from her mind. That was a long time ago. As long as Anders never found what she protected on the Caron lands, she may never have to introduce Tyson to that side of her life.
The Tyson she knew never would have given information freely. He’d been imprisoned by La Dame herself and escaped. Her brow furrowed. “Why didn’t he use his magic? He could have stopped this.”
“You don’t know him at all.” Edmund slid his sword into its sheathe. “Tyson never uses his magic for himself. Not since La Dame. The only time I’ve seen him use it was in Madra because he knew it was the only way to save Estevan… for me.”
He bent to slide his arms under Tyson’s still form and hoisted him into his arms. “You can try to stop me, but I’m taking Tyson. Maiya can heal him. By morning, we won’t be your problem anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Anders will return soon to continue seeking the Hood. Tyson and I will leave the mission to him and return to Bela, the kingdom we never should have left. You broke him once, Amalie, and it seems you never stop trying to hurt him. You and your people call your mission noble, but you’re nothing more than thieves and thugs.”
His words slammed into Amalie like a bludgeon to the chest. She sucked in a breath, holding in the tears trying to spill down her cheeks.
As Edmund disappeared into the trees, Tuck stepped up beside her. “Go,” she pleaded. “Help him. Please. I… I can’t.”
Tuck only nodded and took off after Edmund.
Her chest heaved with the effort of containing the emotions ravaging her mind. A thick drop of water struck her cheek. For a moment, she thought it was a tear, but then another came and another as the torrent of rain broke free of the thick clouds overhead.
People scrambled into their homes, but Amalie remained, staring up into the dark void of the night.
All of her reasons for choosing this life suddenly seemed as murky as the dark clouds above. She kept the village fed through thievery and deception. Did that make her the criminal everyone said she was?
One thing was clear. If Tyson knew the mask she wore—or hood in her case—he’d never see her the same way. Even through the pain swirling in the air every time they saw each other, she hadn’t missed the longing in his eyes. She wasn’t delusional enough to think it was for her, only for what they had. But he’d forsaken her when he refused to return with John two years ago.
Would she go back to what they were when they were younger?
She pushed wet strands of hair back from her face. No. That answer came unbidden, but it was the truth. She was more herself traipsing through the woods and firing arrows at her targets than she’d ever been in pretty dresses attending balls.
Yet, she wasn’t a warrior. She’d gone to war, fighting both her father’s force and La Dame’s. There was an emptiness in battle, a lingering void she felt even now.
She didn’t want to take lives or abduct good people. Simon was comfortable in a seldom-used wing of the Leroy estate, but he wasn’t free.
She rubbed a hand against her stomach, longing for a life she’d once felt with every inch of her being.
A presence hovered behind her. She sighed, her feelings toward her best friend on the edge of hatred. “Go inside, John. You’ll catch a chill.”
He tried to slip his hand into hers, but she pulled away. “Ames,” he sighed. “You know it had to be done. He deserved everything he received after abandoning you.”
Over the years, John had never missed an opportunity to disparage Tyson. Tuck once claimed it was because John felt more than friendship for Amalie. But Amalie could never see him or any man in that way. Not again. She’d given all her love to those who could not give it back. One who abandoned her. And another she’d abandoned.
She turned to him so fast, she collided with his chest and stumbled back. “Be glad he survived because I would never forgive you.”
“He isn’t one of us, Amalie. Don’t forget that. Tyson Durand is a prince, loyal to the queen who has nothing but disdain for the likes of us. You’d do well to get your priorities straight.”
She scowled, barely feeling the rain that continued to fall, creating a curtain between them. “And you’d do well to remember who I am.”
He laughed. “The Hood? I made you.”
“I don’t even know who you are anymore.” She turned on her heel to storm away but he gripped her arm, holding her back.
“I’m the same man I’ve always been.”
She closed her eyes, images of the dead guards flashing in her mind. He’d shown her who he truly was the night she set him free. Not the boy she’d known as a child or a man who wanted to keep the people of the village fed.
She’d failed to believe his true face then because he’d offered her a life beyond the high walls of the estate. He was right. He’d turned her into the vigilante she’d become.
She ripped her arm free. “It’s time I become who I want to be.”
He didn’t follow her as she trudged to where her horse was still tied. As she freed the reins, climbed on, and left the forest behind, she realized what she should have known all along. The Hood was an excuse, a way to fight back in the shadows when she should have braved the light of day.
Chapter Sixteen
Two years ago
Tyson always slept so peacefully. It was one of the things Amalie envied about him. But then when morning came, the restlessness in his eyes never left.
He didn’t want to be there. They’d been at her estate for months now, involved in running the Leroy lands. Each day, Tyson ventured into the village and each day, he grew more distant.
At night, he never woke. Not when Amalie slipped from the bed to join John in the forest for her lessons with the bow. Not now when she returned, weary and satisfied.
If she were honest, her time training with John was the only hours of the day or night she enjoyed.
The queen hadn’t sent more guards to the estate when hers went missing. Tyson said she accepted that they were staying. He made excuses for his mother, saying she hadn’t wanted the estate to fall into the hands of people who’d been loyal to her father. The lands were too valuable.
No one thought they’d return, and she knew Tyson questioned that decision every day.
But not her. She knew in her heart it had been right. The people living on her family’s lands suffered, and she wanted to help them.
Tyson stormed into the room where she’d sat drinking her morning tea. She hoped he couldn’t see the weariness on her face.
He dropped into a chair. “Did you hear? Someone attacked a trade caravan on our roads last night.”
“Really?” She sipped her tea, trying to ignore the guilt building within her. Tyson was too honest for his own good. He’d never understand what she’d started, or that she spent her nights with an old friend instead of her husband.
“We have to do something about this. We have enough trouble getting food and goods to the village without traders avoiding our roads.”
Amalie set her cup down. “Those traders rarely stop in the village to unload their wares. They use our roads to get to the Caron lands. Another gift from your mother, I assume.” She couldn’t hide the scowl on her face.
Tyson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My mother has nothing to do with that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “My people are tainted, Ty. They fought for a traitor. It doesn’t matter to anyone else that my father forced them into it.”
Tyson sighed. It was a conversation they’d had with more frequency of late. He refused to see her side of things. But what had she expected? She knew his true loyalty was never hers. He’d pledged himself to his mother, his brother, and his sister, Etta, before his wife. They took precedence in his mind. Duty trumped love, though he loved them all too.
She thought she’d accepted it. That she could live with never being first in his heart.
But with each passing day, it only hurt more, breaking
off pieces of her own heart. Soon, she feared there would be nothing left.
“I don’t want to argue, Ty.” She stood and moved to sit on the arm of his chair, wrapping her arms around him.
“You know how much I love you, right?” He peered up at her, every ounce of sincerity he possessed shining in his eyes.
She nodded, because it was the truth. She did know how much he loved her. Tyson had never been hard to read. His openness was one of the reasons she’d been drawn to him over his more serious brother. He had an innate goodness she feared was slipping away.
Because as much as he loved her, it wasn’t enough. She needed more.
And so did he.
Present
By the time Amalie returned to the estate, the silence of the night echoed through the empty halls. She roused a stable boy who’d been dozing on a hay bale and left her horse’s care to him. As she walked her tired limbs up the front steps, she unclasped her sopping cloak. A shiver raced through her, the cold finally settling in to her bones.
But she couldn’t return to her rooms. Not yet. She had to see him. To remember the parts of herself she’d tried so hard to forget and confront the parts she’d wanted to hide.
Her pants stuck to her legs as she strolled through the familiar and somehow haunting halls. So much had happened there. Her boots left wet prints behind her, a reminder that she’d been there.
As she got to Tyson’s room, Edmund stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. He’d changed into dry clothing, and his wet hair was pulled back into a tail.
He didn’t scowl when he saw her. That was something. Instead, weariness coated his features. “I’m not going to let you in there.”
She could have retorted with something about it being her house, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore, so she accepted Edmund’s words. “How is he?”
“Maiya healed the bruises.”
“Did he… did you get to talk to him?” She bit her lip and pulled her arms across her shaking body.
He sighed. “Ty… dammit! He should have used his magic.” He rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. “He gave me some noble bull about not using it against non-magic folk, but his life was in danger.”
“They wouldn’t have killed him.”
“You don’t know that.” Edmund paced across the hall before turning. “You can’t control your people.”
She wondered if she’d ever had control over them. Their loyalty to her hadn’t changed who they were. She thought back on the attacks that had gone too far. The traders and waggoneers who’d been hurt. She’d allowed men with less noble goals into her circle because John told her they’d needed them. She cared about her friend, believing he was truly as good as he’d claimed.
She glanced at the door to Tyson’s room. But who was as good as the man on the other side? Certainly not her.
A weight pressed down on her shoulder and it took her a moment to realize it was Edmund’s hand.
His expression softened. “Come on, Ames.” His use of her nickname calmed her troubled mind as she remembered she was safe with Edmund. He’d only ever tried to help her.
He slid his palm down her arm and took her hand. “I need a drink.”
She only nodded and allowed him to pull her down the hall. She paid no attention to their location in the house or the time it took them to reach another closed door with two guards standing on each side of it.
Her eyes finally focused, and a small gasp escaped her. “You knew.”
He looked sideways at her. “Of course I knew. I’m me.”
She would have laughed in any other circumstances. Sometimes she forgot this was a man who ran a network of spies in Madra before the rebellion, or the man who stood by Persinette Basile’s side as she fought for Bela. He’d been the best swordsman in Gaule, but he’d also always just been Edmund, fighting for his friends and keeping secrets every step of the way.
He still hadn’t told Tyson her identity as the Hood, and she didn’t know why.
She nodded to the guards in greeting and knocked. A voice she knew well told her to enter.
Simon sat in the same chair she’d found him in during her last visit. Still calm. Still a prisoner. He showed no surprise at Edmund’s presence. “Edmund,” he smiled. “It’s been a long time.”
Edmund rushed forward to grip his hand. “Simon, it’s good to see you. Everyone is worried.”
Simon released him and leaned back. “I decided a visit to Amalie was in order.”
“Bull.” Edmund walked to the table along the back wall to pour three glasses of wine.
Amalie, still in her wet clothes, crossed the room to the fireplace where flames danced, casting their glow about the room.
Edmund appeared at her side and handed her a glass.
She sipped the burgundy wine, letting the warmth flood her limbs. Once her teeth stopped chattering, she spoke. “Simon is a prisoner; how did you know he’d have wine?”
One corner of Edmund’s mouth curved up. “You think you’ve changed, Amalie, but I have watched Tyson mourn for the last two years as if you’d died. You try to hide it, but you do the same.” He took a long drink. “No, Ames. You haven’t changed. You’re still the girl in a situation she can’t control who is irreparably in love with a man she doesn’t think she can have.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Her voice shook.
“The girl I knew wouldn’t hurt Simon, and she definitely wouldn’t coop him up without wine.”
Amalie couldn’t help the laugh that rolled through her. “You say that as if wine is essential to life.”
“Isn’t it?
She shook her head. “Still the same old drunkard, I see.”
His expression darkened for a moment and when he smoothed his features, she wondered if she’d imagined it.
Simon, who’d been watching them, cleared his throat. “Edmund, if you’re here, I can only assume Tyson has come as well.”
Edmund threw himself down into a high-backed chair. The firelight reflected off his blue eyes, making them dance. “He’s asleep at the moment.”
Simon shifted his gaze from Edmund to Amalie and back again. “He’s either avoiding Miss Leroy here or something has happened that you aren’t telling me.”
Amalie stepped closer to the fire, trying to let the crackling of the wood drown out the pounding of her heart. There was a time when Simon’s council had been that of a father’s. She once cared for him like family. But she had to remember he was the queen’s most trusted guard, the man Catrine loved. Which meant she could no longer put her trust in him.
The disappearance of the royal guards who’d controlled her estate was never investigated. The queen let it rest, but if the truth were ever revealed… if Simon learned Amalie had a hand in murdering his comrades, the kindness in his eyes would disappear. And that… she couldn’t take.
She had a talent for stripping the best qualities from a person. One only need to look at Tyson to see what she could do.
Edmund leaned forward. “He’s okay, Si.”
Simon seemed to relax. “Does he know?”
Edmund shook his head.
She didn’t have to ask what Simon meant. There were so many secrets she’d kept from Ty. Her identity as the Hood. The fact that John, the man who’d beaten him, was one of her closest friends.
The whereabouts of the one person Ty should want to see. Yet he hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered the information freely. Maybe he didn’t care after all.
Then there was Simon’s presence in the estate.
That was the big one. The Tyson she knew could forgive her for anything else, but holding Simon prisoner was a different matter altogether.
Even if she’d kept him in comfort.
She couldn’t stand to stare at Simon anymore. He represented every awful thing she’d done. Without a word to either man, she set her glass down on the table and turned on her heel to march toward the door.
Once out in the h
all, she glanced sideways at two of the guards. Part of her wanted to tell them they could abandon their posts. Maybe it was better if she allowed Simon to leave.
Something stopped her. She opened her mouth and the words that came out sounded foreign to her ears. “Watch Edmund carefully. He has magic, just as Simon does. Don’t let him cause any problems.”
The guard closest ducked his head. “Yes, lady Leroy.”
As she walked away, his words blazed in her mind. Lady Leroy. She wasn’t one of them. Her family betrayed the realm again and again. Was she just following in her father’s shadow?
A chill raced down her spine and this time, it had nothing to do with the cold.
Chapter Seventeen
Two Years Ago
“Amalie.” Tyson’s voice broke as pain unlike anything he felt before seared through him.
His flesh had burned in a village fire. He’d faced La Dame and almost lost the people closest to him.
But it was the girl before him who finally broke his will.
Magic seeped from his fingertips, little drops of water breaking free as if it wept the tears Tyson held back.
Amalie shook her head, her long chestnut hair blowing into her face as the wind swept through the courtyard. He wanted to reach out and brush it back, to feel her skin one more time and pretend nothing had changed between them.
When everything had changed. He’d felt it for months. The distance. Amalie thought he didn’t notice her slipping from the estate late at night. He never followed her because he feared what he’d find.
Another man. Some dark secret she wouldn’t even tell her best friend. That’s what they’d been once. Friends. Confidants. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d stayed that way, maybe he wouldn’t have to lose her. He would have been content riding by her side his entire life even if it meant he never knew her touch in the dark of the night.
