by M. Lynn
“Was. I was the Hood. Now I’m Amalie Durand.”
Dell eyed her. “The warrior will always find new battles to fight.”
Amalie nodded. “I’m always here. Remember that for the next time your people rise up and demand the Madran crown.”
He grinned. “So, that’s how it is now?”
She only crossed her arms in response.
“Alright. Make fun. Madran society still works more smoothly than that of Gaule.”
“I’m no longer from Gaule. Bela is my home now.” And it was. She didn’t have magic, but they accepted her and her people, anyway. She met Tuck’s eyes across the room. If anyone had told the two of them they’d one day stand among kings and queens and be treated like equals, they’d have scoffed at the notion.
John would have hated it.
But Amalie wouldn’t live her life for what other’s thought of her, for how righteous they considered her actions.
The party lasted into the night. For now, they would celebrate reunions. Over the next few days, Madra and Bela would enter a new phase of alliance. One that protected them from the turmoil in Gaule or the distrust of Dracon.
Amalie let her eyes rove over the crowd. Kings. Queens. Princes. Guards. All mingling with common people as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
But if there was one thing she’d learned about people like Tuck or Maiya or countless others, it was that there was nothing common about them.
Tyson woke to a pounding on his door. He’d been living with Amalie and El in his small home in the village for a while now. No guards. Nothing to impede them living their lives.
But he was still a prince of Bela and urgent matters couldn’t wait.
He expected to find a servant at the door urging him to the palace. When he swung it open, Alex stood there with haunted eyes.
He held a candle in one hand and the flames flickered off his tired face.
“What is it?” Tyson grabbed his cloak off a hook near the door. “What has happened?”
Alex opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He swallowed and finally spoke. “Mother. She’s here.”
Tyson followed him out into the sleepy village, a million questions racing through his mind. Why would the queen of Gaule be in Bela? Had she come alone, or did the entire kingdom know she was there?
He hated that he didn’t trust her to simply visit. She had to want something.
Alex bulled through the front door of the palace. Tyson followed him and stopped abruptly when he took in the scene before him. His mother sat on the couch cradling a baby. Simon hovered behind her. Various guards lingered nearby.
“Tyson.” She stood.
Tyson said nothing until his eyes fell on Simon. “Si, it’s good to see you.”
Simon only nodded.
Alex took the sleeping baby from their mother’s arms before she could protest. “You two need to talk. Tell him everything you’ve told me.”
Simon followed Alex out and gestured for the guards to do the same.
Tyson turned his back on his mother and stepped close to the fledgling fire, needing the warmth to thaw the ice in his veins.
A hand on his arm made him pivot. He towered over her small frame. The lines in her face were deeper than he remembered, her hair more gray.
The anger that had pooled in him unraveled until all he felt was a deep exhaustion. His shoulders dropped, and he turned away from her to flop onto the couch.
Not waiting for him to acknowledge her any longer, the queen of Gaule spoke. “I have been ill this past year. That is no excuse for anything that has happened, but we’ve only recently learned it wasn’t only the child growing in me making me ill, but a potion found its way into my food.” She sat next to him, careful to allow some space.
“Gaule is not an easy kingdom to rule. Your father knew that, which is why he used fear to keep his people in line. Alex learned the difficulties when he tried to be a fair and just king. But for me, a woman not of Durand blood, the troubles have only increased. I only tell you this because I hope you’ll understand how deeply the treason goes within my own troops.”
She shook her head. “Anders… well, he was loyal once. His hatred of magic turned him into the monster he became. I never imagined… well, let’s just say Amalie wasn’t at the top of my suspect list when searching for the Hood. I used the Hood’s search to keep Anders and his men busy while I planned the next phase of my reign.”
She reached for Tyson’s hand but thought better of it and pulled back. “I have helped Duchess Moreau take back her lands on the border, but that is not all. My loyal units of the guard have been making arrests of those nobles who do not distribute food to the villages. It was always my plan to care for my people, but I am a queen. I cannot go on a jaunt in the woods to shoot arrows at traders and then give the stolen food to the people. I must create lasting ways for them to be fed. Policies and recurring methods, not single events.”
Tyson lifted his eyes to hers. “You almost killed them, mother. You allowed the search for the Hood to ravage villages, and it almost took the most important people in my life.”
She let her gaze fall to her lap. “I know. I cannot ask for forgiveness for my short-sightedness. Amalie was once like a daughter before everything got so far off path.” This time, when she reached for his hand, she didn’t stop herself.
Tyson had often wondered what he’d say to his mother should he see her again. Now, no words would come.
Her grip on his hand tightened, and he didn’t pull away. His mother was once his best friend. She’d hidden his magic when he was a child and the power meant death in Gaule. She’d planned his escape.
She smiled. “Simon tells me you and Amalie got married quite a while ago.”
He nodded. “Right after the battle with La Dame.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could tell me.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t that. We wanted to keep something just for ourselves. At least for a little while. By the time I was ready to announce it, I’d lost her.”
His mother let her hand smooth over the curve of his arm and up over his shoulder. She cupped his cheek. “But you’re together now. That’s what matters. Can I… I know I don’t have a right to ask, but I’d very much like to meet my granddaughter.”
“I’m not sure.”
“That’s fair.” She let her hand drop. “But you should at least meet your new brother when he wakes.”
“Brother?”
She nodded. “Caleb looks like you. We need to keep Simon’s Belaen heritage a secret for as long as we can. He’s managed to hide his magic all this time. One day, if Caleb inherits powers, he will bring our kingdoms closer together.” She went quiet, and neither of them spoke for a long moment.
“Mother.” He closed his eyes. “I want to be so angry. A part of me knows you had no hand in anything that happened, but you could have stopped it.”
“I know, my boy. I know.”
He couldn’t hold on to any ill feelings toward her any longer. Some people said he forgave too easily for grave offenses, but he couldn’t stop himself. She was his mother, and he needed her.
He turned to her and wrapped his arms around her narrow shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He nodded against her. His mother was finally gaining control of the seemingly uncontrollable kingdom. A kingdom that would no longer welcome their prince home. But at that moment, it didn’t matter which kingdoms they called their own. Not with family.
His mother held his cheeks in her hands and stared into his eyes. “I love you, Son.”
He hugged her again.
They spent the next few hours talking. Alex and Simon returned with baby Caleb.
When morning came, everyone descended on the palace as if it was their home as well as Etta and Alex’s. Tyson met Amalie, El, and Tuck at the door. Helena appeared with Dell at her side and Edmund and Estevan trailing behind.
Maiya
even made an appearance though she spoke to few people.
Tyson’s mother pulled him aside. “I haven’t been around family in this way since you, Alex, and Camille all lived with me in Gaule.” Her eyes shone.
Tyson wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her to where Viktor and Elayne hunched over Caleb, staring into his chubby face.
“It doesn’t matter where we are, Mother.” Tyson’s eyes settled on his daughter. “We’re still family. Sometimes we make mistakes—quite large ones—and sometimes we forget just what it is we’ve fought so hard to achieve. Peace. Safety. One day, I hope Gaule gets to experience what Bela has.”
“I wish for that too.” She turned a fierce gaze on him. “I’m going to work toward showing the people of Gaule what life can be like. Our fight doesn’t have to last forever.”
He rested his chin on her head as Amalie wedged under his other arm. “As long as there are things worth fighting for, there will be battles worth jumping in to. Someone will always try to take what we have.”
His mother smiled at him and crouched down to play with the kids.
Amalie led Tyson away, squeezing him to her side as she peered up at him through dark lashes. “I won’t stop fighting the battles either.”
He dipped his head to catch her lips. “Whatever we have to do.” He kissed her again. “Whoever comes to rip us apart.” He smiled against her mouth. “It’s you and me.”
She shook her head, chestnut hair cascading down her back. “No, it’s not.” They’d made that mistake after getting married when they’d returned to her estate in Gaule and lived separately from the people they cared for.
“You’re right. How could I forget?” He pinched her side. “I’m married to the Hood, and she takes care of everyone.”
“Nah, she only protects them from royals like you.”
“Like me, eh.” He tried to catch her around the waist again, but she jumped back with a laugh.
“Yep. Evil royals.” She turned and darted out the front door, her laugh trailing behind her.
Tyson glanced toward the kids. “Well, aren’t you going to catch her?”
Viktor and Elayne jumped up and sprinted out the door as fast as their little legs could take them. Amalie hid around the side of the barn where Vérité stuck his head out of his stall. Tyson rubbed the horse’s nose as he waited for the telltale shrieks that would tell him the kids caught Amalie.
When he rounded the corner, they tackled her to the ground. He joined them in their play as the rest of their group streamed from the house.
Tyson didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a life. He met Etta’s gaze. Fought La Dame?
Helena said something to Etta and laughed. Saved the Madran queen during the rebellion?
Amalie shrieked again. Saved the Hood?
They’d all been through a lot, but their happiness didn’t feel like the ending to some great tale of magic and sacrifice, raging battles and traitorous deeds. No, this was only the beginning of a new story. He didn’t know what kind of adventure it would be, but the future mattered just as little as the past. Because right now, right here, he had everything he’d ever dreamed of.
And that was enough adventure for him.
* * *
Want more? Cursed Beauty, the final book in the Fantasy and Fairytales series is available here: michellelynnauthor.com/cursedbeauty. Keep reading for a preview.
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What’s Next?
A girl running out of time. A prince determined to give her more.
* * *
When Aurora finds an injured man on the battlefield of Bela, she takes him to her hidden cottage to keep him alive. It’s her last good deed before the curse she’s known was coming sends her into a thousand year slumber.
Aurora is ready. She has nothing, no one to miss.
Until him.
Learning this man is the prince isn’t Aurora’s biggest problem, not when his touch is the first thing to bring her to life in years.
Now, when she thinks of missing the next thousand years on this earth, she wants to fight. Because, this time, she has someone to leave behind.
* * *
The epic conclusion to the Fantasy and Fairytales series, this book takes place hundreds of years before the birth of Etta Basile. See how the Basile curse came to be in this page turning adventure.
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Get your copy of Curse Beauty here.
Cursed Beauty
The drums of war held a foreboding rhythm Phillip Basile would never forget. The general prince—as they called him—had stood on bloodstained fields many times before. This time was no different. He still saw no end to the continuous wars between his kingdom of Bela and their greatest enemies, the hordes of Gaule.
Phillip stood atop the eastern tower of one of the border fortresses watching the savages streak across the hillside in the distance. Gaule was a crude land led by a cruel king who had attacked Bela’s border villages for too long. They lacked Bela’s sophistication and common decency.
Shaking his head, Phillip turned to the men at his back. They’d die for him. He knew that. The warriors of Bela had always been loyal to the crown, and the crown was loyal to them as well.
“Call the archers to line the walls. This fortress will not stand another assault. I want my best magic wielders to meet me at the gates. We will ride out to face them. Once the fight begins, prepare those inside these walls to make for the forest.”
One of the armor-clad men dipped his head. “Yes, General.” Among his men, Phillip was not a prince, not royal. To them, he was a seasoned fighter, one of their comrades. The general.
He strode back into the tower and thundered down the stairs with his guards following behind. Alfred and Chandler were magic wielders who’d been with him since they were all young boys spying on soldiers in the palace.
“General,” Chandler called as Phillip marched across the courtyard. He didn’t pause, so Chandler tried again. “General.”
“Phillip,” Alfred barked. “Stop for a darn minute.”
Phillip turned, his jaw clenched. “There is no time. Within the hour, they will overrun us.”
“You can’t ride out. What will protect you?”
Chandler nodded in agreement. “Phillip, the entire Gaulean force is out there. Even with our magic, we can’t match them. You’re the heir to the Basile magic. We can’t risk you.”
Bela was the least populated of the six kingdoms by more than half, but each person born in their land held magic in their blood. The only other kingdom that could boast such a feat was Dracon. Magic had protected Bela for centuries, yet only when the ancient power of the kings was also present. Each Basile king possessed a magic matched only by that of the dark sorceress of Dracon.
And the king was dying. Phillip thought back to the last time he’d spoken to his father. The old man had wanted to make the journey, to ensure they won the day, but he wasn’t even able to stand. He wouldn’t have had the strength to travel, let alone wield his own magic. If he died, Phillip would inherit the power, allowing him to protect Bela.
What would his father do now? Would he abandon the last remaining border fortress? Would he try to protect the few people Bela had left?
No. Phillip stood taller. His father would fight until he couldn’t any longer. He met the worried gazes of his two oldest friends. “I won’t force you to join me, but I’m not allowing those savages to cross into Bela.”
He turned on his heel and marched to the stables, barking orders as he did. “Ready the horses.” All those who wished to fight gathered their weapons. Steel flashed in the early morning sun, but it was only a tool, a ruse. Their greatest weapons lay inside them.
Each magic-wielder’s power was different. Some could call on the heat of the sun, others forced the winds to obey their commands.
And Phillip? His greatest weapon was his protective shields against the enemy. A king should have been able to do more in battle. He’d always thought it ironic that his gift wasn’t more.
One day, it would be. One day, he’d know what it felt to be invincible, to harness the power of his ancestors, the magic that belonged to the Basiles, transferring to each new generation as they stepped up to rule.
And when that time came, Gaule would regret the day they made an enemy of Bela.
Phillip knelt down in the middle of the battle, digging his fingers into his thighs as he tried to hold the parts of his invisible shield that hadn’t already fallen. An arrow sailed for Alfred’s back. Phillip clenched his teeth, pulling in his little remaining energy to expand his shield, throwing it out toward Alfred. The arrow hit the invisible force and snapped in two, sending a tremor through Phillip. The prince slumped forward.
“General!” Chandler ducked away from the arc of a sword before slicing his attacker across the back—not with his own blade, but with his magic. His power was an extension of his sword.
He sprinted toward Phillip and grabbed his arm to haul him to his feet. “I told you not to use your shield to protect all of us. You can’t hold it that wide.”
“You don’t give me orders.” He sucked in a breath, and it rattled painfully in his chest.
Chandler scanned the battlefield where many of their comrades had fallen. Horses darted from the fight. The Gaulean savages continued to come.
“You need to order a retreat.” Alfred joined them, wiping his dripping blade on the grass.
Phillip shook his head. A retreat meant defeat. It meant allowing their enemies to have a piece of Bela, to encroach upon their land. He lifted his eyes to the hill where the Gaulean king sat atop his horse, never joining the fight. Such was the way of the Durands.
