by M. Lynn
Helena was so lost in her thoughts of magic and the man she thought she’d known, she didn’t see the rock in the road. Edmund’s hand guided her around it before she fell, bringing her back to their current reality and what she knew was coming.
Edmund’s voice was low when he spoke again. “Tell me what you were thinking.”
She shrugged. She knew the answer, but he wouldn’t understand. How could he?
“Princess.”
He only called her princess in formal situations, letting her know he wasn’t asking as her friend, but as a member of the royal council.
“Helena,” he tried again. “You know the laws.”
She did. And she hated them. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes.
“If your father found out, they could take you from the line of succession,” he went on. “If the priests found out… Your birthday ball would be canceled.”
They both knew the priesthood would do something far worse to her.
To some, the ball seemed silly. Who cared about a party when freedom was on the line? But that ball was supposed to be where her father made his final decision in who her husband would be.
“I wanted to see my kingdom.” The words were small, but she felt every one. She was second in line to the throne. She would one day run the merchant guild.
But she was a princess of Madra, meant to be hidden away like a precious jewel. The law of Madra said few had the privilege to look upon a princess’ face until her wedding day. She wasn’t allowed outside the palace. When she attended balls and ceremonies, she wore a mask to cover all but her mouth.
It was a terrible law, but a sacred one in the eyes of the priests. The common man’s eyes defiled a princess just by gazing upon her. Those were the words of the priesthood.
Edmund only knew her face because his position as ambassador allowed him that privilege.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to do this, Helena. I grew up in Gaule where men like me who prefer men over women were put to death. Here in Madra, we live openly. Yet in Gaule, a woman has every freedom. They are now ruled by a queen. My best friend is the queen of Bela. But we aren’t in either of those countries. I want you to have those same freedoms, but I don’t want you to lose everything… I don’t want to lose you.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I lost everything once. A king I loved imprisoned me for my deception. I don’t want that for you.” He squeezed her tighter to his side as they walked. “Please, wear the mask. Stay in the palace. You’ve done it for eighteen years. It’s only a few weeks until the ball.”
She didn’t argue, but she made no promises either. She’d finally gotten a taste of freedom and that memory wasn’t going anywhere.
They would reveal her face soon enough, but then all of Madra would know her on sight. She had precious little time left to explore her kingdom as one of its loyal subjects.
They reached Edmund’s home. “Where’d you leave your horse?” he asked.
“I walked.”
He raised a brow. “You just walked out of the palace?”
“When you’re going for stealth, you don’t steal a horse and thunder out the gates.”
He laughed. “Guess not. How’d you get out?”
She pressed her lips together, not wanting to reveal one of Madra’s biggest secrets to the Belaen. She trusted Edmund, but…
Did she have a choice?
“The catacombs under the place lead to a network of tunnels throughout the city.”
Edmund’s eyes widened, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Secret tunnels under Madra? I thought that was just a myth.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think my father even knows they exist. Stev and I found them when we were kids.”
Edmund laughed. “I’ll bet your dad would love to know the heir to the Madran throne grew up playing in the catacombs.”
She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “My brothers and I have never exactly played by the rules.”
“Do the rest of them know about the tunnels?”
“I showed Kassander once. The others… no.”
She glanced toward the ground, wanting this line of questioning to end. Her brothers were not a subject she enjoyed talking about.
Each child born to the royal family had a purpose placed on them the day they first opened their eyes. Stev was to be the next ruler of Madra. Helena would lead the Merchant guild—the most powerful entity behind the king and the priesthood. Kassander was born to be a priest. Quinn and Cole were bastards but in an unusual move, the king recognized them so even they had roles within the kingdom. They were not placed into the line of succession, but were given posts in military command.
Helena turned to Edmund. “Thanks for getting me this far, but I’m okay getting back on my own.”
He shook his head. “Stev would kill me if I didn’t accompany you.”
She narrowed her eyes, realization setting in. “Of course.” She walked back toward the street. “Big brother sent you to find me.”
“He saw you leave.” There was meaning in his words that took her a few moments to understand.
She slowed her steps. “He let me go?”
“He wanted you to have your freedom, even if it meant defying tradition. I’ve been following you since you reached the columns at the end of the square. I only stepped in when I saw Dell fighting.”
“Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Stev is…” Her brother was always surprising her. He never spoke to her as if he cared, but then he did things like this.
They made it to the far side of the palace where a grate sat above a hole in the ground. It lay hidden beneath a wooden platform. If anyone found it, they’d assume it was only a part of the vast sewer system consisting of shallow clay pipes. An innovation of her grandmother’s. Helena bent and lifted the wooden boards to reveal the metal bars. She pulled a rusted key from the string around her neck and bent to turn it in the iron lock. Edmund pulled the bars free.
“Replace this once I’m through,” Helena instructed.
Edmund gaped. “I don’t like the thought of you going down into that.” He stared into the dark.
She shrugged and sat on the edge of the hole, swinging her legs in and dropping onto the ladder.
As she cleared the entrance, Edmund put the iron bars back in place and stared down at her.
“Thanks, Edmund.”
He nodded and watched her descend.
The musty smell of the tunnel enveloped Helena as she jumped from the ladder into the ankle-deep water. Kassander’s boots would be soaked, but her ten-year-old brother’s clothes were the only ones that fit.
Running through the darkened tunnels, she skimmed her hand along the wall to guide her steps. She didn’t know how long she walked before a door appeared, light seeping out from underneath.
She bent over, trying to catch her breath. Everything would be okay. Home was right in front of her. Her first ever trip outside the palace hadn’t destroyed her life. She glanced back over her shoulder as adrenaline pumped through her. Being out among the people thrilled her. It gave her something she’d been missing most of her life. A sense of connection with the kingdom her family ruled.
She had to get out there again.
As she set her hand on the door, she pushed just as she’d been taught. A soft click sounded and light flooded the tunnel.
She tumbled into the bedroom that had gone unused since their grandmother was alive. The picture slid back into place to conceal the door. She laughed to herself.
A cough interrupted her celebration, and she twisted on her heel to find Stev leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
He didn’t say a word as he pointed to the table at his side. Her soft mask with ivory lace lay flat against the marble.
She walked forward and picked it up. As she set it against her skin and tied the ribbons at the back of her head, she couldn’t help but fee
l as if the prison Edmund spoke of was now hers.
Satisfied, Stev nodded and left without a word.
It was only then Helena noticed Kassander sitting on the bed, his excitement making his limbs jump.
“Hey buddy,” she said. “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”
“I know. Stev already told me.” His bright eyes fixed onto her face. “I like it better when you’re not wearing the mask.”
She sighed and wrapped both arms around her brother, pulling him into her lap. Resting her chin on his head, she spoke into his soft chestnut curls. “Me too, kid.”
* * *
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About M. Lynn
M. Lynn is a USA Today bestselling author of love. Yes, love. Whether it be YA romance, NA romance( Both under Michelle MacQueen), or fantasy romance, she loves to make readers swoon.
The great loves of her life to this point are two tiny blond creatures who call her “aunt” and proclaim her books to be “boring books” for their lack of pictures. Yet, somehow, she still manages to love them more than chocolate.
When she’s not sharing her inexhaustible wisdom with her niece and nephew, Michelle is usually lounging in her ridiculously large bean bag chair creating worlds and characters that remind her to smile every day - even when a feisty five-year-old is telling her just how much she doesn’t know.
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