by M. Lynn
With a final pat to the man’s shaking shoulder, Alex strode down the carpet. The doors were opened for him and Simon stood at his side as he stepped through. Geoff and a few other guards joined them.
Alex knew the people of Bela were wrong. A good man could be a great king as long as he stood by what he believed in and made sacrifices. That was where King Phillip of the stories turned dark. He made the wrong choice. He sacrificed his people and his future descendants for one woman.
Alex would do anything to keep his people safe. Gaule wasn’t only made up of non-magical folk. If they were all going to survive La Dame’s forces, they had to do it together.
He wished he’d figured that out sooner before the people he cared about were hurt or driven away.
There’d been no assaults for days and Etta didn’t want to get used to it. In fact, she hoped someone tried to come at her if only so she could have someone to punch. She’d been weak each of the other times, but since her magical healing night, her body felt whole.
The food had increased since the king’s visit, but she wouldn’t be grateful. His offer to move her to a more comfortable prison had been insulting. If he wanted to keep her under lock and key, then he’d have to face her in this wretched place. He didn’t get to soothe his conscience. Especially not when the other poor people in that place didn’t have the option of luxury. He’d done this and she wouldn’t let him forget.
She straightened her arms, pushing herself up from the ground before lowering herself and doing it all over again. She had to remain strong and ready.
“What are you doing, Etta?” Henry asked.
She grunted through another push-up. “Preparing.”
“For what?”
“For whatever comes next.”
A bowl rattled as it was slid through the bars and a chunk of stale bread was thrown unceremoniously into the cell. Too hungry to care, she dipped the bread into the chunky stew she’d grown used to. It softened it enough so she could take a bite but it still scratched her throat on the way down.
She didn’t want to know what was in the stew to throw off such a wretched smell, but she wolfed it down like the animal they thought she was. Throwing the bowl to the ground, she swallowed the last bit of bread and sat in the corner of her cell. It was the farthest spot from her chamber pot. There was no lid to keep the stench at bay.
Every time she’d thought she was growing used to it over the weeks, some new inconvenience would bring her back to reality.
She wiped her face on her filthy sleeve, dreaming of a nice bath. Even a dip in the freezing river in the forest would do. She closed her eyes, letting her mind wander to images of her with Verité at the river.
A throat clearing tore through her distraction. She opened her eyes to find Duchess Moreau standing on the other side of the bars.
“Hello, Persinette,” she said kindly.
Etta scooted away from her shadowed corner, confusion drawing her brow. She hadn’t expected a visit from one of the king’s advisers. Then she remembered Tyson. Queen Catrine told her to take Tyson to the Duchess.
“Tyson?” Her scratchy voice couldn’t get much else out.
The duchess passed a cup of water through the bars and Etta gulped it down greedily.
“Tyson is safe,” she said. “As is Edmund and that petulant horse he arrived on.”
A laugh burst out of Etta and she clapped a hand over her mouth. It’d been ages since she’d laughed. “Verité has been good to me throughout the years.”
“Yes, I suspected he was yours.” She pressed her lips together. “You two seem made for each other.”
Etta nodded.
“I can’t stay long, child, but Catrine tells me you’ve refused to be moved.”
Etta’s eyebrows knitted together. “I can’t leave them.” She pointed to the hall where her people were caged just as she was.
Respect shone in Duchess Moreau’s eyes. “You and our king seem just as suited as you and that blasted horse.”
Etta scowled. “I think I’m tired. You should go.”
The duchess didn’t move. “Alexandre has had a busy few days. He sent both his sister and Lord Leroy away from court as the punishment for their treatment of magic folk. He broke his betrothal. Many in Gaule are angry with him.”
Etta’s mind whirled faster the more she thought of him. He was protecting her people? Why? And he’d broken his betrothal to that sweet, shy girl. Would his kingdom turn against him?
No, she couldn’t allow herself to care. Not when he continued to keep her from her own people.
Etta shrank back into the shadows of her cell. “The king is no concern of mine.”
The duchess nodded in understanding, but a sadness entered her gaze. “When I met you before, I thought you loved him. I saw it in your eyes. But love does not end, and it does not give up.”
“It also doesn’t forgive.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, child. The most important thing love does is forgive.”
“I can’t love someone who would imprison me for my magic.”
“I was under the impression it was because of your betrayal and that the reason you’re still here is your own stubbornness.” She ran a hand down her dress. “Edmund sent me with a message. I am to tell you La Dame has taken control of Bela.”
“Bela no longer exists.”
“But the land is still there. She has seized it and if you want to get it back, then you will need Gaule. You will need to make peace with Alexandre Durand.”
With that final thought, the duchess left. Etta folded in on herself. How had Edmund done it? He’d forgiven Alex for his own imprisonment, loved him still. Now La Dame had her ancestral home and she couldn’t be allowed to keep it.
Edmund was right. A sob shook her body. How could she forget these awful weeks? She felt the curse strong in that moment. It wrapped around her heart like a clamp, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.
Her tears hit the stone beneath her and she watched their trail, numbing herself to the war raging inside of her.
Alex couldn’t stand the sight of her in that cell, but he had a plan. He needed to start releasing some of the prisoners who’d been locked up since his father was king.
He hurried toward the one person in the palace he knew he could trust. The late hour allowed him to slip away from his room without any guards. His mother’s guard barely glanced at him as he knocked on her door.
He hadn’t expected her to be sleeping, night owl that she was, but he’d at least thought she’d be alone. When Duchess Moreau answered the door, he stepped back in surprise.
“Your Majesty.” She smiled. “Just the man we need.”
He followed her into the sitting room where his mother sat with her fingers curled around a mug of tea.
“Alexandre,” she said. “Good news. Your brother is well.”
Relief flooded through him as he walked toward the pot of tea and poured some for himself before turning to the duchess. “I didn’t know you were back at court.”
“I just arrived. I’ve had a few people to see tonight and was planning to present myself in the throne room tomorrow.”
He sipped his tea and nodded, considering her. “How many magic folk have you been hiding?”
She reeled back, her jaw dropping.
“Alexandre,” his mother warned.
Duchess Moreau recovered quickly, busying her hands with the wrinkles in her skirt. “I am a loyal subject of Gaule.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything less,” he said as he took a seat across from her. “You’re protecting Tyson and I assume Edmund as well.”
She nodded hesitantly.
“Then it isn’t a far leap for me to guess you are a sympathizer.”
“Sounds like an accusation to me.”
He flicked his eyes to his mother and back. He’d learned he couldn’t trust his other adviser. Was the duchess different? His mother gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and he took a dee
p breath.
“I want to be a good king.”
“You are, son,” his mother said.
“Bela has an expression.”
“Good men aren’t meant to be king,” the duchess finished for him.
“It’s time I begin proving them wrong.”
The duchess frowned. “Sire, that saying refers to a specific king—Phillip. It isn’t a phrase to take to heart.”
“My father wasn’t a good king.” He turned to his mother. “After his death, you said one good man died that day and one monster. Viktor Basile was not the monster in your mind, was he?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she shook them away. It was all the confirmation he needed. He set his cup down and reached for his mother’s free hand. “I don’t want to be like father.”
“You could never,” she gasped.
“That’s a nice thing to say, but nothing has changed since he died. We are still persecuting those with magic. Our dungeons are full.”
Duchess Moreau studied him carefully, tilting her head to the side. “What do you plan to do?”
He swallowed. “I can’t free Etta. I want to… but she’s now a rallying point. The attackers in the border village claimed they were doing it in her name. She won’t allow me to move her somewhere more comfortable.”
“That’s what she told me.” There was pride in the Duchess’ eyes.
“You’ve seen her?”
“That was the first place I went.”
“How was she?”
She sighed. “Angry. Prideful. Stubborn.” Her lips curved up. “She was a Basile.”
The queen mother laughed. “Sounds like her.”
“I need to begin releasing people,” Alex said.
His mother leaned forward. “Son, that’s noble of you. But it’s best done with caution. Gaule is ready to go up in flames. Any action that can be perceived as aiding the magic folk will threaten your rule.”
“Maybe my rule isn’t the most important thing.”
She gave him a disapproving look. “Of course it is. You can only help this kingdom while you sit on that throne.”
“Before father consolidated the crown’s power, the king did not rule alone. Grandfather had a council of citizens to help him lead. So, no mother, my rule is not everything. Not even close. Gaule can survive without me. The question remains—can it survive me, my rule. Because, right now, my people want to tear me apart.” He set his cup down and began to pace in front of them, clasping and unclasping his hands.
He kept moving as the words spilled out. “I have a plan. It may make the people hate me more and I don’t want the entire kingdom sinking into rebellion if they think I am aiding their enemies, but we may need allies in the time to come. Keeping them caged like animals will not turn them into such. It’s a balancing act. I need to free the magic folk, but I don’t want word of our activities reaching the villages of Gaule. Not yet. We must only use trusted allies. If we can get the prisoners to Duchess Moreau’s lands, they’ll be as safe as they can be in Gaule.”
His mother got to her feet and set her cup down before stepping into Alex’s path and wrapping her arms around him. “I’m worried for you, son.”
“I never wanted to be king, but we do not get a choice in all things. Just like I don’t have a choice now.”
She leaned back and patted his cheek. “You’re a good boy. I’m also thankful you chose a kind man for Camille. She is difficult, but she is my daughter.”
Duchess Moreau stepped forward. “Duke Caron was a wise choice.”
Alex nodded. “Caron will be quite different than she expects. Rumor is his sympathies lay across the border as well and I will have need of him in the future.”
Leaving the two of them with vague details of his plan, Alex ducked out into the darkened palace. As a child, he’d never been allowed near the dungeons. Now it seemed as if they were a staple in his life.
The guards on duty bowed as he passed. It was damper than usual due to the heavy rains that’d begun earlier in the day.
He stopped outside Etta’s cell expecting to find her intense stare burning into him. Instead, she was curled up in the corner farthest from the waste bucket that sent putrid smells dancing in the air.
Her elegant golden mane was tangled and covered in so much filth it appeared almost brown. Her face was hidden from him, but her tiny body was skinnier than before. Her hipbones jutted out harshly under her torn clothing.
But her chest rose and fell, giving him some sense of comfort. She was still alive and that meant there was hope.
He gripped the bars separating them, wanting to be close, knowing he’d never be close again. He’d seen it in her eyes the last time she’d glowered at him.
Despite the fact she’d been the one who lied and betrayed her king, he’d been the one to break them. To break her.
Turning away, he vowed to himself he’d make it right and walked back to his room where sleep was elusive, but memories ran rampant.
The charcoal scratched along the paper, leaving delicate lines in its place. Alex moved his hand rhythmically as the trees took shape. He blew away the excess charcoal and studied his drawing. He couldn’t get it right. The edge of the Black Forest held a darkness he couldn’t draw no matter how many times he tried.
“That’s a pretty picture.” Edmund dropped down beside him in the grass past the outer wall of the palace.
“Are you mocking me?” Alex raised his eyes to study the trees, barely paying his friend any mind.
“I would never, your Highness.”
“Edmund, if you insist on bothering me, can you at least be quiet while you do?”
Edmund grinned and shook his head. “Why are you so fascinated with that forest, anyway?”
Alex sighed in exasperation and pushed his sketchbook aside. “Guess I’m done for today.” He glanced back longingly at the trees.
“Come on, Alex. I know something is going on. You’ve been moody lately.”
He needed to say it. Needed to get it out. But something stopped him. He thought he could trust Edmund, but what if he was wrong? He looked into his friend’s eyes. They’d been inseparable since Edmund came to the palace a few years before.
“I think I saw Persinette in town last week.”
Edmund whistled a long note. “That’s…”
“Crazy? I know.”
“Alex, in the three years since she left, there has been no word. No one can find them. Why would they remain so close to the palace? From what you’ve told me, her father is smarter than that.”
Alex lowered his chin to his chest. “I tried to reach her, but she turned into an alley and came out on the back of a horse. I watched her ride toward the forest.”
“No one lives in the forest.”
Alex’s fingers traced the lines of the drawing. “Wouldn’t it be the perfect place to hide if the king is hunting you?”
Edmund gripped Alex’s shoulder and squeezed. “You know as well as I your father has scoured the kingdom for them. They couldn’t have gotten out past the wards. They’re probably—”
“Dead?” He brushed off Edmund’s hand and stood. “Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying. I know you won’t believe me, but I feel like I’d know. If she died, I mean. Edmund, before you, she was the only person…” He wiped his hand across his eyes to hide the sudden moisture. Teenage boys weren’t supposed to cry, much less princes.
Edmund nodded like he knew what he meant, but he couldn’t. Being a prince was lonely especially as a young boy. But it hadn’t been when she was there. He’d always felt connected to her, like she was the person who mattered most.
A horn blew from the front gate as a line of soldiers on horseback crested the hill. They rode two abreast and were followed by a wagon. Edmund jumped to his feet.
Alex started to walk forward, but Edmund held him back as they got a better glimpse of the wagon. It was sizable with metal bars creating a cage in back.
His stomach churned as h
e saw the people crammed into the cage with barely any room to move. He’d seen it before. For three years, the purge brought magic folk to their dungeons in droves.
“Come on,” Edmund said. “Let’s go into the palace another way.”
The two boys were silent as they added that sight to the list of scenes they’d never forget.
Chapter Five
Light flashed through the night moments before a crack of thunder shook the walls. Alex startled from his sleep. He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes and sat up. Getting to his feet, he walked to his window. Rain pounded furiously against the glass.
Another crash of thunder made him jump.
Gaule was no stranger to storms, but they’d had a calm summer. It was only a matter of time.
There was no way he was getting back to sleep. When Tyson was younger, sometimes he’d make his way to Alex’s room when a storm raged. He hadn’t wanted to seem like a baby and go to his mother.
Alex smiled at the memory. Ty always tried to act bravely.
Alex missed his brother. It didn’t feel the same without him down the hall, without him causing trouble.
He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine to soothe his frayed nerves.
A knock sounded on his door and he was surprised to open it and find Amalie standing there in her nightgown. Simon was the guard on duty and he raised an eyebrow.
“My lady,” Alex said, inclining his head.
She bowed. “Your Majesty, may I come in?”
He stepped aside to let her by and gave Simon a tiny shrug before closing the door.
Amalie dropped all formality and turned to him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I know I shouldn’t be here. People will talk and—”
“Simon won’t tell anyone you came.”
“Oh.” Color rose in her cheeks. “Well, that’s good. Your mother put me in a room down the hall and I couldn’t sleep because…” She hesitated, casting her eyes on the floor. “I hate storms.”
His smile spread from one side of his face to the other. She was young, like Ty. He poured her some wine and she took it gratefully.