by M. Lynn
“John.” His name was only a whisper on her lips, but he snapped his eyes to hers.
“Ames.” His chest shook as he coughed.
“Shhhh.” She brushed the sopping hair from his forehead. He’d been hit with Tyson’s magic, yet he still saved Edmund. For the past couple years, he’d spoken of how magic had no place in Gaule. And yet in his final moment, he’d given himself up for it.
“That’s enough.” The guard gripped Amalie’s arm and yanked her to her feet.
“No.” She tried to fight him, but he was too strong. “John!”
“Ames.” Tears streamed down John’s cheeks. “Ames, I’m sorry.” His eyes slid closed.
“No! Don’t you die on me, John Little.” She slammed her head back until it connected with the guard’s nose. He released her with a curse, and she ran back to John’s side. “They’ve taken everything from me, John. You can’t do this. It’s supposed to be you and me against the world.”
He didn’t respond. Amalie shook her head, rage thrumming through her. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back, but she wasn’t the grieving damsel they thought she was.
She was the Hood.
And the Hood took care of her people.
Amalie slammed her foot back, catching the guard in the knee. She clutched her hands together and brought them down on his hands as hard as she could, breaking his grasp and giving her the opening she needed.
She ran past John’s now lifeless body to where Tuck and Maiya were still chained with the others. Picking up speed, she rammed into one of the guards hovering near them keeping watch. He stumbled back but didn’t fall. By the time he reached for her, she’d knocked the bow from his hands.
Tuck found an arrow one of the guards shot at them during the chaos of magic and threw it to her. She didn’t stop running as she set it against the string, feeling more like herself than she had in a long time.
She drew the string and jumped, twisting her body to fire toward her target. The guard who’d killed John clutched at his throat as an arrow pierced his skin. Blood gurgled from his lips as he collapsed next to John.
Amalie landed nimbly on her feet and tossed the bow aside. It was useless to her without more arrows. She bent over the dead guard and lifted his sword, still coated with John’s blood. Crimson drops dripped from the tip as she held it in front of herself and faced the remaining guards.
“I know what you’ve heard about me. The outlaw. The Hood. I’m uncaring. A thief. Unhinged. I kill queen’s men just for the pure pleasure of hearing them scream. I’m a traitor from a long line of traitors. Any of this sound familiar?”
She turned in a half circle, meeting each guard’s eyes. They didn’t approach, but they held their swords ready.
“I wasn’t the person you all thought I was. I never betrayed Gaule. I only wanted to save it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But now? Unhinged is only the beginning. Before, I had something to protect. My identity. My daughter. But you’ve ripped the hood from my head. You’ve taken everything from me.” She swept her gaze across the square. “My father used to say the most dangerous person was one with nothing left to lose.” She’d lived her life trying to escape her father’s legacy. He was an evil man, but he was right in one thing.
Fear was the greatest motivator there was. He’d used the kingdom’s fear of magic against the magic-loving king.
The royal guard hadn’t chased the Hood for months only because she was a normal thief. They feared her.
She lifted her chin. “Are you going to arrest me?”
As the first guard approached, she focused on the memory of the burn of a rope as it tightened around her neck. When she turned on her heel, launching her knife at the guard, all she saw was Captain Anders offering to let her confess her sins.
As blood sprayed her face, she felt the rush of air as the door opened beneath her feet.
She was ready to die before, but now, she’d take some of the bastards with her.
She didn’t notice when Tyson joined in the fight. His movements were slow as he tried to regain his strength. But he was there.
“Tyson, stop,” she yelled as she ducked a guard’s blade. “This isn’t your fight.”
She’d gone into this day knowing it would be her last, but Tyson shouldn’t have to suffer for her pain.
His sword crashed into his attackers, and he grunted from the effort. “You were wrong, Amalie.” He kicked his foot out, catching the guard in the stomach and forcing him back. “They didn’t take everything from you.”
She grit her teeth as a knife slid across her arm. The physical pain couldn’t compare to the agony raging inside her.
“You don’t understand, Ty.” The guards who jumped into the fight didn’t stop. They attacked their prince and the outlaw as if they were ordinary insurgents. Catrine would never stand for this, but she didn’t have true control of her kingdom. She wasn’t there.
Others hung back, indecision holding them in place. They didn’t want to fight the queen’s son.
Tyson blocked another attack. “Yes. I do.” He let out a roar and jabbed his sword into the man’s stomach.
The guard fell off the sword, landing in a heap on the ground.
“I’m not talking about me when I say they haven’t taken everything.” He readied his stance for another attack. “Elayne. She’s alive.”
Amalie’s sword almost fell out of her grasp. She couldn’t have heard his words right. She’d seen El’s body, mourned her loss.
Shouting erupted around them, jerking her from her thoughts, as Tuck and the rest of her people joined them. Edmund followed behind, keys still clutched in his grasp. He must have taken them from his father.
Before the guard in front of her could attack, a large hand ripped him back, throwing him farther than any normal man could.
A shudder ran through Amalie as Simon appeared among the guards, the people he should be loyal to. He was a queen’s man just as they were. The difference was Simon’s true loyalty was to the queen and not the officers.
“Stop this.” His voice echoed along the village center. He turned to face the guards. “You would attack your own prince?”
“He’s chosen his side,” a guard spat.
Simon’s movements were so quick, Amalie almost missed them. He flipped a knife into his hand and threw it to the guard who’d spoken. The guard didn’t have time to say another word as the knife lodged in the side of his head.
Simon bulled his way back through the crowd to where a village woman stood holding a young girl. He took Elayne into his arms and rejoined the rest, holding her up for them to see. “Do you know who this child is that you tried to murder?”
When no one answered, he shook his head. “She is the queen’s own grandchild. Her Majesty will have each of you imprisoned.” He set El down. “Unless… stand down. There need be no more fighting this day. Your captain is dead. All blame for this…” His eyes scanned the courtyard. “… event lies with him. If you do not leave this place, there will be consequences. You are no longer welcome among the queen’s guards. Whatever you do from here on out will not taint the power of the crown.”
Amalie’s chest heaved as exhaustion seeped into her. Simon’s words stuck in her mind, but all she saw was the child who clung to his leg.
The daughter who did not know her had lost much this day. Both her adopted parents now existed only in the next life.
She’d been ripped from her home and exposed to things no child should have to see.
Tuck appeared at Amalie’s side, and she leaned into him as they waited for the guards to make a decision.
Finally, after many long moments, they dispersed, leaving as if they’d never been there at all. But Amalie would never forget and that village would never be the same. Once blood ran in the streets, it was impossible for them to ever truly recover.
Amalie didn’t hesitate in running to El and dropping to her knees in front of the girl. Tears clogged in her throat, and she crushed E
l to her chest. “I’m sorry, my girl. I’m so so sorry.”
“Mama?” El’s shy voice only deepened the rift within Amalie.
Amalie had rarely been in El’s presence, yet she knew every inch of her. And El didn’t know Amalie at all. She’d only ever known Sara and Aydan as her parents.
Tyson approached cautiously and set his weapons on the ground. He fell to his knees beside Amalie, and for the first time in a long time, Amalie wanted him there.
She wanted him to look into the face of the best thing either of them had ever done. Tyson slid his hand into Amalie’s.
“Elayne.” He cupped her cheek with his free hand, leaving a smear of blood on her pale skin.
Amalie ripped Tyson back. They couldn’t taint her with their battles. Battles that would never end as long as they remained in Gaule.
She’d once thought nothing could take her from her mission, not even if her identity were discovered. She’d been wrong.
Elayne reached a hand out and laid it on Amalie’s shoulder. Warmth spread through her. A kind of happiness she hadn’t experienced in years. Her eyes widened. She’d suspected, but hoped it wasn’t true. El had magic… just like her father. Those with magic suffered a lot in Gaule.
“Tyson,” Amalie whispered. “We have to get her out of here.” She looked sideways at him, speaking the words she never thought she’d say. “We need to leave Gaule.”
Tyson lifted his eyes to the people trying to put themselves back together. Edmund. Tuck. Maiya. The other loyal people who’d come with them from the Leroy lands. “We all do.” He met her gaze. “None of us are safe here anymore.”
Edmund approached. “After today, Ty, you and I won’t be welcome in Gaule again. Not even your mother can change that.”
Tyson flicked his eyes from Amalie to Elayne. “I know. It’s time we leave it all behind us.”
Amalie stood and lifted El into her arms. The girl curled into her, seeking comfort or warmth. Possibly both. Amalie carried her to where Tuck stood watching Maiya heal the last remaining wounded.
“I’m sorry about your sister. More than you can ever know.”
Tuck shook his head, a sad glint in his eye. “She knew the risk she took on by taking El into her home. This wasn’t your fault, Ames.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll all heal. It’ll only take time.”
She rested her chin on El’s soft curls. “But not here. Not in Gaule.”
He brushed a hand over her head. “There’s nothing left for me in Gaule. You’re my family, Amalie. I’ll go wherever you lead.”
The weight of the past few days crushed down on her until she could barely stand. Tuck took El from her arms moments before her knees hit the dirt. She covered her face in her hands, but no more tears came. She’d cried every last one she could cry.
Now was a time to be strong, to march into the future, but all Amalie wanted to do was curl up right there on the ground and let her mind and body rest.
Rest wasn’t for warriors though. If there was one last thing she could do to succeed in her mission to help the people of Gaule, it was getting those loyal few to safety. She tilted her head back, meeting the eye of each man and woman who’d come with her, remembering those who couldn’t stand before her. They were the noblest of Gaule. The best the kingdom had to offer.
And their kingdom no longer wanted them.
“Leave the village as it is. Do not wipe the blood clean from its surface. They will remember us, remember that someone will always fight for those who can’t. Tonight, we make for the camp we left in the woods. If it was not overtaken, our horses will still be there. We ride at first light for the border. They will have no more pieces of us.” She pushed herself to her feet and took her daughter from Tuck before leaving everything else behind.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Coming home. It was as if an entire lifetime had passed since Tyson rode through the rolling hills of Bela or took in the peaceful pastures. It stood in such contrast to the chaos and troubles Gaule faced.
The camp had still been where Amalie left it with a few men guarding the horses. They’d only allowed themselves to rest for one night before riding hard for the border. The village sat at the nexus of Gaule, Bela, and Dracon, and it had only taken them a day to cross into more friendly territory.
Amalie had barely spoken, but her face held a look of contentment as she took in the men and women surrounding her. It didn’t take long to realize it was due to the little girl bundled up in a cloak and sitting in front of Amalie atop the horse. Elayne was too young to control her magic. Most magic folk saw no signs of their power at such an age, but El had Basile blood running in her veins. Tyson’s father was Viktor Basile, a descendent of the long line of kings of Bela, each more powerful than the last.
The Basile power. Etta once had it, but it died soon after she overcame La Dame, and the world no longer needed the power to protect it from the great sorceress. Yet, both little Viktor and Elayne would have many gifts because of their heritage.
Tyson still didn’t know how Amalie thought she could keep Elayne a secret for much longer. But then, Amalie was not a magic-woman. She didn’t understand the power or how it manifested.
She’d barely spoken to him on the ride, but Tyson was grateful Tuck never left her side. Even if Amalie never came back to Tyson, he wanted her to have someone she could count on.
On their second day, the village came into view. Before they reached the cobblestone streets leading to the wharves, three riders crossed the expanse. A Belaen hunting party.
They stopped in front of the large group of refugees and surveyed their faces.
Tyson met the eyes of the leader. “Paint a picture, brother. It’ll last longer.”
A smile crept across Alex’s face. “About time you returned.”
“Aw, I didn’t know you missed me so much.”
Alex grinned. “Actually, I was talking to Edmund.” He turned to Edmund. “Vik cries. All the time. I think I’m going crazy. He just wants you.”
Edmund sat up straighter in his saddle, all weariness disappearing. “What have you done to the kid?” He waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Uncle Edmund is back.”
Tyson laughed. “He couldn’t have been missing Edmund this entire time. We’ve been gone for months.”
Edmund shot him a look. “You obviously know nothing of our bond.”
El chose that moment to wake. She shifted and lifted her head, piercing Alex with a clear gaze.
Alex went silent for a moment. “Amalie?” He nudged his horse closer.
One of Alex’s companions approached. Matteo, Tyson’s cousin, examined El with the keen eyes of his. “It seems we have much to discuss, cousin. Come. Our hunt can wait. Etta will want to see you immediately.”
“Your highness.” The third rider was Alex’s ever-present guard. “Who are all of these people? We cannot just bring them to the palace.”
Alex rubbed his chin as if seeing Amalie’s people for the first time. His eyes flicked from Tyson to Amalie. “They come. If my brother trusts them enough to bring them into Bela, that’s good enough for me.”
He turned and led the way through the village where onlookers came from their shops to watch them ride by. They crossed the bridge and stopped outside the Belaen palace that looked more like a normal home than a castle. Etta had always preferred simple to grand.
She’d grown up in a forest dwelling so to her, this was extravagant.
They dismounted in the yard as Etta appeared in the doorway. She raced down the steps and threw herself at Tyson. He caught her in a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she whispered. “We’ve heard many things coming out of Gaule and none of them good.”
Tyson pulled back. “We’re okay, but there’s a lot to say.”
She nodded and turned to Edmund, wrapping her arms around his waist for a hug. By the time she released him, a larger presence burst from the palace. Estevan took the steps two at a time, not slo
wing until he’d crashed into Edmund and pulled him into a bruising kiss.
Edmund, seemingly forgetting about their audience, kissed him back with just as much force. When they finally broke apart, Estevan checked every inch of Edmund, making sure he was intact. “We’ve been so worried. You were gone for far longer than we expected.”
“I suspect there’s a story to hear.” Etta crossed to where Amalie stood at the back of the group. “Amalie.” She smiled.
“Majesty.” Amalie dipped into a formal curtsy. There was no warmth in her voice.
Etta ignored it as she bent down to Elayne. “And who do we have here?”
Amalie stood frozen, but Tyson stepped in. “My daughter.” He met Amalie’s fearful eyes. “Our daughter.”
Etta straightened, shock coating her features. She covered her mouth with her hand and tears pricked her eyes. “Your daughter? She’s—”
“It’s a long story.”
“Come inside. I want to hear all of it.”
Amalie finally found her voice. “If it’s okay, your Majesty, El and I are weary from our travels. Is there a place we could rest?”
Etta placed a hand on Amalie’s arm. “Amalie, we were friends once. You know you can call me Etta.”
Tyson knew what Amalie wanted to say. He’d heard it before. Royals were not meant to be friends. But she held her tongue. It was true. Before Etta claimed her birthright, she’d been a prisoner in Gaule, and Amalie was kind to her.
But that version of Amalie no longer existed. She’d hardened herself.
Etta removed her hand and nodded before gesturing to one of the servants. “Show Amalie and her daughter where they can wash up and rest.”
Once Amalie was gone, Tyson could finally breathe again. Etta wound an arm around his waist and led him to the steps. Most of the others had already gone inside to avail themselves of the queen’s hospitality. The servants busied themselves serving ale and preparing food.
“Just a moment.” Etta stepped away from Tyson and marched to where Edmund was peering down the hallway. “Edmund, so help me, if you wake Viktor from his nap, I’ll lock you in his room and throw away the key.” She narrowed her eyes. “And no, I won’t leave him in the room during your punishment.”
