by M. Lynn
They’d fought the night before when he demanded to know what was going on. He’d felt the finality of her words.
‘Maybe I wasn’t destined for marriage,’ she’d said. ‘I want to have a greater purpose’.
He’d tried many times to convince her to leave the estate behind. To travel to Bela where they could have served Etta and lived for more than overseeing staff and training for battles that never came.
“I need you to leave, Ty.” She held her arms across her chest as if protecting it from the pain in his eyes.
“I don’t have to obey this.” He held up the paper they’d received a week before. A summons to the palace of Gaule. To his mother. They’d spoken of it every day since, but Amalie still didn’t see. He loved his mother, but he’d have given her up. Yet she never believed him. She claimed he’d always choose his family.
He’d have given everything up.
So, he told her.
Her hard eyes met his. “That’s the problem, Ty. We shouldn’t have to give up our lives for each other. I don’t want to be a princess. I don’t want to be beholden to the crown of Gaule or Bela.”
He didn’t understand. She’d always known who he was. “I’m not beholden to anyone but you.”
“Yes, you are.” She reached out but then pulled her hand back. “The Tyson Durand I fell in love with would do anything for his family. I may not love your mother anymore, but you need to go to her if she needs you.”
“I don’t.”
She took his hand. “I’ve seen you change over the last year as you’ve lived in this house. As you’ve experienced the damage done by my father. He’s dead, but his soul remains. It taints everything here. I don’t want that for you.”
“I want you.” Tears gathered in his eyes.
She pulled her hand from his and drove the final dagger into his heart. “But I don’t want you. Not anymore.”
The pain in his gaze hardened, turning into unbridled anger. One of the stable lads appeared with a horse and Tyson turned toward the beast.
He climbed on and looked down at Amalie once more. “I will always love you, Amalie Leroy, but it seems like that isn’t enough.”
He rode through the gates without another thought and dug his heels in to canter down the road. Amalie had taken everything from him, and the emptiness threatened to consume him.
The magic he’d held back in the year since fighting La Dame poured from him, pulling the rain from the clouds above. He thought he’d lost his desire for battle since the war, but now all he wanted was to join in a fight. He didn’t answer the summons from his mother.
Instead, he turned toward the roads leading into Bela. His mother had always told him home was where his heart resided. But what happened when that heart cracked and its once steady rhythm faded into nothing?
Present
Amalie’s feet took her to Tyson’s door once more. But this time, she didn’t stop herself from entering. Thunder ripped through the sky outside his window, and a flash of light lit the room. The maids had allowed his fire to dwindle, and she suddenly wished she’d gone for dry clothes before coming here.
But she couldn’t leave. Tyson lay on the bed with his legs tangled up in the blankets. His bare chest rose and fell steadily. After his healing, she doubted he’d wake anytime soon.
All her reasons for making him leave two years ago no longer made any sense.
I don’t want you. Not anymore.
It was the greatest lie she’d ever told. The truth was, she’d been on the edge of what she thought was the biggest purpose in her life. He’d have known better. He wouldn’t have understood.
And she didn’t want to be stopped.
The Hood needed to exist. After Tyson left, the only time she felt alive was when she ran through the woods with her bow in her hand.
She pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat, never once taking her eyes from Tyson’s innocent face. That was the thing about him. No matter his age, no matter his fight he never lost the pure innocence.
A tear slid down her cheek as she thought of the weeks following his departure. She’d thrown herself into training with John, running her body into exhaustion just to keep her mind occupied.
She’d treated Ty so poorly the last time she’d seen him. What he hadn’t known was how each night he’d spent under her roof had broken her.
“I’m so sorry, Ty,” she whispered. “This is all my fault.”
She leaned her forehead on the bed as more thunder rumbled through the room.
“Not your fault.”
At first, she thought she’d imagined the voice because it was so faint, but then a hand brushed over the back of her head. She choked back a sob and lifted her head.
Tyson’s eyes slid open, and she recognized the exhaustion in their depths.
She pulled away from his hand.
His gaze held hers. “Why would you say this is your fault? I was abducted by some men in the forest. I’m assuming Edmund found me if I’m here.”
She closed her eyes, and another tear squeezed between the lids. “The man who took you…”
“I know,” he said quickly. “He was sentenced to death. He shouldn’t be alive. I know he was a friend of yours and that you were at the palace to save him. Looks like the Hood did your job.”
He watched her carefully, but she didn’t react. “I guess the Hood did one thing good.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. John had just beaten Tyson unconscious. His survival wasn’t something Ty would want to celebrate. She shifted her gaze away from him.
Tyson grabbed her hand. “Hey, it’s okay. He was important to you. Regardless of his actions, that feeling doesn’t go away.”
She wiped away the tears threatening to spill forth. “Why are you being so kind to me? After everything I did… you should hate me.”
He released her hand to scratch his face. “I don’t know, Ames. For so long, I thought I did, but being here with you feels…” He shook his head. “I can’t hate you.”
Unable to believe his kindness after everything that had passed between them, she pulled her hand back and stood. “I must find some dry clothes and my bed.” She walked swiftly to the door and stopped with her hand on the latch. Without turning back, she sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. Goodnight, your Highness.”
When she returned to her room, she ripped off her clothing, wanting to rid herself of any memory of that night. Flashes of an unconscious Tyson took hold of her mind. She closed her eyes and rested her hand on the icy skin of her chest, letting her own heartbeat calm her. He was okay.
Tyson was always okay. No matter what he did, he found a way out of it. Join the battle with La Dame—not even a scratch. Fight a usurper across the sea in Madra—no problem for the prince of two kingdoms. Father a child and refuse to return—it didn’t even weigh on his mind.
He acted like their life together had never happened. Like she hadn’t sent John to Bela with a letter begging Tyson to return, revealing the baby that grew inside her.
By the time she’d realized she was pregnant, he was gone, and the Hood had already become a renowned figure. She hadn’t stopped her mission, scaling walls and running through the woods. Fighting men twice her size at night and then pretending she was nothing more than Lady Leroy during the day.
But then the pains came along with a torrent of blood. It had been too early, and the healer feared for both Amalie and the baby’s lives. The baby was born, and she’d said her goodbyes while waiting for Tyson to come.
When John returned, he only brought Tyson’s refusal and Maiya, the young magic woman. Amalie closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Maiya’s healing magic warming her skin.
It had changed nothing regarding the child. Whether Amalie lived or died, she couldn’t involve someone so helpless in the life of an outlaw. Her enemies would come. At the very least, the queen would if she knew of the birth of her grandchild. No, Amalie couldn’t have anything more tyi
ng her to the regent she betrayed with every draw of her bowstring.
The Leroys were traitors. Amalie only carried on the family business. The goodness of her mission wouldn’t matter to Catrine. Or Tyson.
Her eyes snapped open. What would he say if he knew of her occupation?
She took the silk nightgown from a hook near the washroom and slipped it on over her head before crawling into her bed and wrapping her shivering frame in soft furs. Exhaustion won out over conscious thought and she drifted into slumber.
Chapter Eighteen
Throughout the next day, Amalie attended to matters of the estate. She inspected a crumbling part of the walls, approved the next week’s meager menu with the cooks, and met with townsfolk who pleaded for her intercession in disputes of land ownership.
What she did not do was visit Tyson’s room. He should be mostly recovered by now with only a little weakness lingering.
Edmund was a constant presence in the halls, walking from Tyson’s room to Simon’s and back again. He held so many secrets inside him, and she still didn’t understand why he kept hers from Tyson. Those two were as close as brothers.
He walked up beside her as she entered the great hall for supper. When she didn’t have guests, she was the only person to occupy the long table. She’d grown used to eating alone. Solitude suited her, but she also missed a time when laughter echoed throughout the room.
“How has your day progressed, Duchess?” Edmund smirked as though he knew how his use of the formal title she no longer held vexed her.
“Busy.”
He nodded, accepting her terse tone. “Tyson has healed well.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“But you wanted to.” He seated himself at the table without waiting for her and glanced up.
She sank into a chair, smoothing the skirt of her dress over her legs. “Do you enjoy irritating me?”
“Very much so.” He flashed her a smile and reached for the pitcher of wine to fill both their cups. “In truth, Ames, Ty has been a pain in the… uh rear today.”
She sipped her wine, trying to hide her curiosity.
Edmund continued. “He’s restless.”
She snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth.
Edmund’s grin widened. “Very lady-like, Ames.”
Pulling her hand away, she took another sip. “I’m sorry. It’s just that some things never change. Tyson has always had a restless soul.”
Edmund smiled at the servant who set a plate of salted fish and roast potatoes in front of him. He leaned toward Amalie as if sharing some great secret. “It’s the energy. He has too much of it. He always has to have some purpose, and sitting still just does not suit him. It’s why he jumped at the chance to help Helena reclaim the Madran throne. Not only to save his sister, Camille, but also to have a mission.”
Amalie had always seen that in Ty, but in recent years, she’d found the same to be true of herself. “I know the feeling.”
“I imagine you do.”
“Can I ask you something, Edmund?”
He stuffed a forkful of potato into his mouth and nodded.
“Why haven’t you told him?” She busied herself with her own supper while waiting for his answer.
He sighed and set his fork on the table. “Because the woman he loves is running around Gaule risking her life with each mission she takes on. Because, I suspect your need to help the people drove you to send Tyson back to Bela with a broken heart.” He met her gaze. “Because, though I worry about you and the company you keep, I believe in what you’re doing.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “What is it with the women in my life and their penchant for trouble?”
She laughed at that. Edmund was loyal to Persinette Basile, queen of Bela, who served her people in any way she could—just as Amalie wished to. Amalie had no love for royals or nobles, but Etta was different. And Alex, the king of Bela, many in Gaule held no love for him, but he’d always tried to do the right thing.
Edmund’s next words pulled her from her own thoughts. “For the record, Ames, Ty would too. If you let him.”
“He would what?”
“Believe in you.”
The door to the hall burst open and Will entered, his large stature making the room seem smaller. Upon seeing the seriousness of his expression, Amalie rose from her chair. “What is it?”
“Captain Anders has been spotted in the village.”
The mercenary’s words took a moment to register. She didn’t know where Anders had gone when he disappeared, but she’d known he’d return. With Ty here, Anders wasn’t the only one searching for the Hood on her lands, but she’d never worried Tyson posed the same threat.
“I’m coming.” She skirted the edge of the table. Edmund rose to follow her, and she shook her head. “Stay here.”
“He’s my father, Amalie. Let me help.”
She turned back to face him. “He may be your father, but he has been tasked with arresting me just as you and Tyson have. I don’t want your help. This is a problem for the Hood, and I’m sorry Edmund, but I have my own people to stand at my side. Men I trust. You and Tyson will stay within these walls.”
She marched from the room with Will following. “Where is Anders now?”
“At the tavern, my lady.”
Nodding, she turned the corner to enter her room. “You and Cameron will accompany me. We’ll set up watch posts. I want eyes on the captain for the duration of his stay.”
Will left to retrieve Cameron as Amalie changed into a pair of trousers and a tunic. She stepped into her boots, slung a quiver over her shoulder and left the room with her bow in one hand and hood in the other. She couldn’t put the hood on until she was away from the estate walls.
In the courtyard, Will and Cameron waited. She spoke no words to them as she led them through the gates. They’d know what to do.
She’d spent years training and running missions with the same men. Each knew their roles. Each could anticipate the actions of the others.
She wasn’t lying when she told Edmund she didn’t trust him. Not in the way she trusted those who’d fought injustice by her side. The ones who risked everything for her.
The moon rose high above them, full save for a missing sliver. No stars dotted the clear sky. The darkened streets held few dangers. Her band of men kept a tight rein on the village. A breeze whipped between the buildings, and it was only then she remembered she’d forgotten her cloak.
Clenching her teeth against the cold, she used the torches outside the tavern as a beacon. Raucous laughter sounded every time the heavy wooden doors opened and spilled men onto the street.
She gestured to Will to take up a position in the alley beside the tavern. Cameron left to enlist a few more of their men for the rotation the next day. Amalie glanced to each side before crossing the street and entering an alley. It was so familiar. This was where guards chased her and John up onto the roof before they had arrested him.
She pulled herself up the same way she had before and ran across the tiles with light steps until she could peer down at the tavern. She knelt down and set her bow beside her, preparing for a long night of watch.
Tyson paced the length of the room before turning and walking back again. The door opened, and he turned as Edmund walked in.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Edmund put up a hand. “Ty, I have kept something from you and you’re going to be angry with me, but there’s time enough for that later.”
“What are you talking about?” Tyson lifted a brow.
Edmund shook his head. “You aren’t going to believe me unless you see it for yourself.” He paused for a long moment. “The Hood is in the village right now.”
Tyson stilled. “What? How could you possibly know that?”
“There’s no time to explain. My father has returned, and I think the Hood is in danger. The information said he was alone, but he never travels alone. Our archer friend is walking into a trap.
I’m sure of it.”
Tyson crossed the room and slapped the side of Edmund’s head. “Have you gone mad, man? We’re here to arrest the criminal. If Anders succeeds, we’ll be able to find Simon.”
“Ty, do you trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then we have to go.”
Tyson watched him for a moment longer. Edmund was the most honorable man he knew. He always did the right thing. If he truly thought the Hood needed their help, Tyson could set his doubts aside.
He reached for his sword belt and tied it around his waist before pulling on a cloak and grabbing his bow. Edmund already had his weapon ready, so they left without another word.
At the gates, the guard only nodded to them. They’d long since realized no one in the estate cared what happened to the prince. They were a land of people more loyal to their duchess than their queen.
Tyson should have been troubled by it, but he’d seen first-hand how Amalie gained the trust of even the toughest, crudest men.
“Edmund, I’m not going to ask where you get your information. Not yet. But I need all of it. Where was Anders seen?”
“The tavern.”
Tyson nodded as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, lit only by the silver moon from up high. “Come on.”
They neared the tavern. “You can guarantee the Hood is near?” A shiver raced down Tyson’s spine. He’d heard many stories of the criminal he now knew was a woman. She fought for those who couldn’t, but her aim was deadly accurate, and the wanted men who traveled with her were loyal.
Noise drifted from the tavern, and they ducked into a nearby alleyway. Tyson’s feet collided with something on the ground. He bent to see what he’d kicked, and his breath lodged in his throat.
“Edmund,” he hissed. “It’s Will. One of the estate guards.”
Edmund cursed and bent to feel for a pulse. “He’s alive.” He felt lower before pulling his hand back. Blood coated his skin.
Tyson rolled Will over to find a small knife wound in his stomach. Blood seeped out between the folds of skin.
