by M. Lynn
“She…” He shook his head. “I’m fine, mother, just tired.”
He closed the door behind him and didn’t glance at the guard as he made his way to his old room, sinking into his bed before his mind pulled him into the dark void of his own emptiness.
When Alex woke the next morning, it took him a few moments to realize where he was. His heart beat frantically as he dug his hands into the soft bed and his head jerked from left to right.
His surroundings finally struck him as familiar and he sucked in a calming breath. Not the tower. He’d never be in that tower again. He was home. His palace. Where his rule meant something.
Except it didn’t. Not to the people outside the palace walls. He ran a hand down his face and pulled his aching body from the bed as he scanned the room. Someone had been in there and he hadn’t woken.
A platter sat on the table in his sitting room but it wasn’t loaded down with fresh fruits as he’d come to expect growing up. A bowl of mashed grain and half a loaf of bread stared at him. There was fresh butter at least.
The entire palace must be on rations. It didn’t bother him for his own sake. Despite the pains of hunger in his stomach, he didn’t think he could eat a thing, but how long had it been since the others inside the palace had full stomachs?
In the washroom, the tub had been filled. He assumed the water had been warm at some point, but that may have been hours ago. What time was it? Sunlight danced in ribbons across the stone floor. He couldn’t remember the last time the sun had woken before him.
He scrunched his nose as he sniffed his tunic. Living in a camp full of soldiers didn’t exactly provide much opportunity for good hygiene.
He stripped off his worn tunic and peeled the dirt crusted trousers from his legs, shaking his head at how he must have appeared to his mother yesterday. He’d fallen asleep without even changing.
He bathed quickly, scrubbing rigorously and taking great pains to remove all signs of hardship from his skin and hair. The water was a hideous shade of brown by the time he finished, but he smelled like the roses the maid had put in the water.
His wardrobe was the same—untouched in his absence. His fingers reached for the soft wool of a simple tunic before he released a sigh and shook his head. Not today. Today he had to show them the king was back.
He slipped a padded tunic over his head before donning his chain mail and pulling a surcoat over it. If the traitors were going to force the kingdom into war, this was the king they’d get. Not one who would sit back and let them take control of Gaule.
When he strapped his sword to his waist, his lips curled up into a smile. It’d seemed like years since he’d had the weight of his own sword at his side. He’d used others, but it wasn’t the same.
He turned toward the door, but at the last moment, reached for his crown and nestled it into his dark hair. The weight settled around him and any hint of a smile fell from his lips.
Simon was waiting for him in the hall. So, it began. It should have shocked him to find out Simon had magic as well, but Alex had grown numb to secrets. To magic. It had been around him his entire life. He just hadn’t realized it.
Simon nodded in approval when he took in Alex’s appearance.
“Morning,” Alex grunted.
“They’re waiting for you in the council chambers.”
Simon was a man of few words so the walk through the crowded palace halls was quiet. When people saw them, eyes widened, mouths dropped open. Those with their wits dropped into bows. Others murmured. He only made out a few words. The king has returned.
Before turning into the council chambers, Tyson’s voice drifted toward them. Alex stopped. Simon glanced at him and did the same.
“I’m so sorry, son,” their mother said.
“You said that last night.” Tyson sounded like the sullen teenager he was, not the powerful magic man he’d become.
“Viktor was…”
“I don’t need to hear about you and that man. My sister told me plenty about him.”
“Oh dear.” Her breath hissed and Alex imagined her cheeks puffing out like they did when she was nervous. “Persinette… is she…?”
“I could have stayed with her, mother.” His voice shook. “I wanted to. There’s nothing I wanted more than to stay with Etta and Edmund and everyone else who is just like me. Do you know I even have a cousin?”
“But you came back?”
“I had to,” he burst out. “I’d never abandon you and Amalie and Camille. I have to be at Alex’s side when he takes back his kingdom.”
“And then?”
“And then, Mother, I’m not sure I can stay in Gaule.”
“You’re just a boy.”
Tyson huffed out a laugh. “I haven’t been a kid since the day I discovered my magic.”
Their words drifted away and Alex closed his eyes. His brother had wanted to stay. Simon patted Alex on the back awkwardly and gestured to the room. Alex took the hint and entered; ready to tell them everything that had happened since he was taken from the palace.
And everything that would happen from here on out.
He had a plan.
Chapter Five
Etta tried out a smile. One that didn’t look fake. It stretched her face unnaturally, but the family didn’t seem to notice as they waved to her excitedly. A little girl with angelic rosy cheeks ran toward her. “You’re the queen,” she said.
Etta smiled again but this time it wasn’t so forced as she nodded.
“You have hair like mine.” The girl grinned, pulling on her own blonde locks. The sun caught in the strands making them glow golden.
Etta touched the end of her braid. Not so long ago, she’d had to cut it off, and it hadn’t seemed important.
“Sasha!” A petite woman ran up. “Come here.” She curtsied quickly. “I’m sorry, your Majesty.”
She scurried away, pulling the girl alongside her. Etta watched after them, wishing she’d said something. The people who’d returned to Bela respected her. Edmund said they revered her, loved her even. The ones who hadn’t been present when she fought La Dame had heard the story. But they rarely talked to her.
Even after she’d fulfilled her promise to Edmund. She’d held court and nothing had felt more silly, at first. She’d sat on a raised chair and people bowed in front of her while offering platitudes.
That part had been a waste of time. She wasn’t the queen they needed. But then they began discussing what still needed to be done. They were expecting more ships soon. The village was to be expanded to accommodate more of their people seeking refuge. Old alliances were to be rekindled.
Winter was upon them and their food stores might not get them through it.
She shook her head. She’d known none of it would be easy.
Matteo had been there, always by her side, ready to help with any decisions, and she was beginning to wonder if she needed other advisors. She couldn’t do it on her own.
Pulling her cloak tighter about her, she hurried down the path to the beach. Edmund promised he’d meet her there.
A single flake of snow landed on her cheek, melting instantly. She looked up to see a few others fall as her breath floated in front of her face.
The birds had long since left Bela for warmer kingdoms and for the first time since leaving, she missed Gaule. It didn’t snow in the winter and the temperatures weren’t anywhere near as harsh. They didn’t have to huddle around fires at night in their ramshackle huts to keep from freezing to death.
Edmund was already at the beach, facing the rolling waves. The white cliffs rose up at their backs. Before Etta could alert Edmund to her presence, another person came into view. Esme.
Etta sucked in a breath. Esme had saved Edmund twice now and countless others, but it was hard to look at her without seeing her daughter. Maiya’s betrayal still clung to Etta like a fist around her heart.
Esme’s dark lips stretched to reveal impossibly white teeth. “My queen.”
It
was on the tip of Etta’s tongue. The fact that technically La Dame was Esme’s queen since she was Draconian. But she bit back the words as Edmund turned.
His shoulders lifted in apology as he glanced between Etta and Esme. “If I’m going to be around while you’re testing out your powers, I’m going to have the healer nearby.”
“Okay.” Etta swung her arms in front of her, loosening her muscles.
“Okay?” Edmund quirked an eyebrow.
She nodded. He was right. No matter how much Etta distrusted the woman who’d spent her life working for La Dame, she trusted herself even less. She wouldn’t put Edmund at risk.
Tilting her head to the side, she cracked her neck and stretched her arms over her head. “So, how do we start?”
“You think I know?” he asked. “I’ve spent my life hiding my magic just like you.”
“You’re the one who pushed me so hard to use it.”
He shrugged. “And look how well that turned out.”
Esme started laughing, her shoulders shaking as she folded her arms across her stomach.
“Care to share what’s so hilarious?” Etta narrowed her eyes.
Esme swallowed down another laugh. “You’re supposed to be Bela’s hope for survival?”
“And?”
“And you two are going to get yourselves killed.” She shook her head.
Etta stepped toward her. “What would you know? You’re just a healer?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I am a healer, yes, but healing isn’t my only magic.”
She closed her eyes and Etta suddenly felt every bit of defiance draining away as if it had never been a part of her.
A dumb grin lit Edmund’s face.
“Edmund,” Esme said softly. “Tell me your greatest fear.”
He wouldn’t just obey her, would he? Etta watched her friend struggle with his words. His forehead scrunched as he fought her command, but then smoothed out as another wave of peace pulsed out.
“That…” He tried to keep them in. “That they’re right about us.”
“Who, Edmund?” Esme asked. “Who is right?”
“Gaule. Everyone. That we’re dangerous. That our magic isn’t to be trusted.”
Etta stared at him as the peace snapped away like a rubber band stretched too far. Red crept up into his cheeks as he realized what he’d just said.
“Etta,” he said softly.
She turned away from him to fix Esme with a glare. “If I find you using that on any of my people, I’ll send you back to Dracon and whatever fate awaits you there.”
Esme didn’t flinch under the harsh stare as she nodded once.
Etta faced Edmund once again. “You’re right, Edmund. We are dangerous. We shouldn’t be trusted. Because the time of Bela has come. They should fear us, but we should not fear each other. Let’s begin.”
It was too strong. Etta felt it vibrating through her. This magic. This power. It didn’t feel like hers. She’d always been comforted by her ability to create life. Even now, her mind’s first instinct was to latch on to the weeds poking through the rocks where sand met grassy hill. She closed her eyes and tugged on the tight string, imagining the weeds stretching up toward the sky.
The tight string loosened quickly and Etta’s eyes popped open as it unraveled within her. Her head jerked back as she tried to hold it inside but her control was gone. Her mind reached out, grasping, straining, for something to hold on to.
Wind rushed in her ears, a deafening roar drowning out the screaming of those around her.
“No,” she cried as she felt it slipping. “Agh!”
She fell forward and her knees hit the sand as the power exploded out of her, draining every bit of energy inside.
The sand rose up around her as she pitched forward onto the now scorched ground. She turned her head in time to see Edmund flying into the air.
Her cheek was still pressed to the warm ground as the sand settled in a haze of dust, mixing with the still falling snow. Edmund’s head popped up among the waves and he made it to the shore with a few strong strokes.
Etta sucked in a breath as if air was in short supply, her heart drumming rapidly against her ribs. Edmund crawled out of the water and collapsed shivering.
Esme ran forward and dropped to the ground beside him.
“How,” Etta wheezed. “How did you avoid it?”
Esme didn’t look up from checking over Edmund. “The range of my magic is much farther in front of me. I took a chance standing down there, hoping your range was similar.” She pointed toward the far end of the beach. “Edmund here thought you’d have more of a chance if you could see him.”
“Obviously not.” She crawled toward them and looked down into her friend’s face. “You okay?”
“Just c-cold.” His teeth chattered.
She shrugged out of her cloak and laid it over him, but it was soaking wet in seconds. “You need dry clothes.”
“Are you hurt?” Esme asked.
“I d-don’t t-think so.”
“That is why we’re doing this at the beach.” She helped him to his feet. “If we were in the woods, he could’ve been seriously injured.”
“I don’t think you guys should be helping me anymore.” Etta kicked at the sand as a gust of wind blew it into the air. The chill felt good on her burning skin. The snow sizzled when it touched her.
“T-Too bad.” Edmund trudged up the path in search of dry clothes, but Esme stayed behind.
“He’s right, you know,” she said.
Etta strode across the beach to the rocks and sat down. “About what?”
“You can’t do this alone and if you don’t learn to control your magic, it not only takes the one weapon against La Dame we have, but it’ll kill you.” Esme was quiet for a moment before trying a different tactic. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Aren’t you usually pulling secrets from other people?”
She nodded. “I deserve that. I have spent my entire life in service to La Dame. I admit it. I joined her ranks of my own free will when I was a teenager. I worshipped the ground she walked on.”
“What changed?”
“I had a daughter.”
“Maiya.”
Esme nodded. “Her father was one of La Dame’s dragons. That’s her network of spies. Pierre is the only dragon who managed to get close to Viktor Basile. He is a hero in Dracon. And my greatest nightmare. La Dame gave our daughter to him to use for his cover in Gaule. Before that night at La Dame’s final ball in Bela, I hadn’t seen her since she was a baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
Esme lifted her eyes. “You’re a queen. Don’t be sorry. Tell me I’ll have my revenge. For years, she’s used my daughter’s life as a way to keep me in her control.”
“But you still left her to join us.”
Her shoulders dropped. “I know.”
Etta leaned in, dropping her voice. “You’ll have your revenge.”
“And you’ll have my loyalty.” She cocked her head. “But can I ask you a question?”
Etta nodded.
“Why would your father name you Persinette? In Draconian, that means—”
“I know. He named me Rapunzel.” She scrunched her brow and blew out a breath. “I don’t understand anything my father ever did. Was he taunting her? Did he want her to come for us? I’m never going to know because he died with so many secrets.”
Etta slid from the rocks as she watched Edmund approach in dry clothes. He’d tied his wet hair away from his face.
“Persinette,” Esme said.
Etta turned. “Yeah.”
She took a breath as if weighing her words. “La Dame believes she will own you one day. That’s why…”
“Why what?”
“Deep in the recesses of the Draconian palace lays a crown. Your crown. The Basile crown was not lost as the legends say. She has kept it for the day the Belaen ruler stands at her side.”
“That doesn’t make a
ny sense.” Etta’s eyes drifted out over the water but she didn’t take in the sight. “Why then did she want me dead?”
“Think about it. She’s never actively tried to kill you.” She shook her head. “She’s kept your family cursed for many generations looking for the one she deems worthy.”
Etta jumped to her feet and spun. “Why am I worthy? Why not my father? I am nothing. I can’t even control my own magic.” Etta’s chest heaved as her voice rose.
Edmund reached them and draped a dry cloak over her shoulders. “You’re wrong.”
“It’s just another thing she’s stolen that I have to get back.” Etta rested her hands on top of her head. “I will never stand at her side, but I will have my crown.”
Edmund grunted. “Glad someone is finally realizing she can’t escape destiny.”
“Not destiny, Edmund. Revenge. Blood. Magic.”
“There’s something else,” Esme said hesitantly.
After a long pause, Edmund gestured for her to continue. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”
Esme breathed deeply. “Your power is the opposite of La Dame’s.”
“What does that mean?” Etta met her gaze.
“Many centuries ago when the Basile magic and La Dame’s were first revealed, they balanced each other. One held immense darkness and the other light. Since then, they’ve both grown darker, but the same rules apply. They will battle each other any chance they get, but at the same time, they attract each other. Your power will try to draw hers in, stealing it from her.”
“Is that even possible?”
“It had never been done… but yes. And, Etta, you must resist the urge to take what is hers.”
“Why?” Etta asked. “Shouldn’t I try to strip her of power?”
“If your power and hers meet within your body…” Esme shook her head. “I’m sorry, Etta, but it will destroy you.”
“Come on Etta,” Esme called. “Focus. Do it again. Try to only release it in bits. In battle, when the adrenaline courses through you, you must fight the urge to expel too much at once. If you do that, the power will leave you forever.”
