by M. Lynn
She no longer cared what happened to her, but her people deserved better.
Hands gripped her shoulders, moving her toward the farthest rope. Will stood beside her, loyal to the end. He issued a prayer to the heavens. On his other side, one of her most loyal guards, Cam, stood stoically.
The heavy stomp of Anders’ boots alerted them to his presence behind them as he climbed onto the platform and addressed the crowd.
“This is a good day in Gaule,” he began. “A good day indeed. You may have noticed the royal guard overrunning your village for the past two days. The queen sent us on a mission to capture the most notorious traitor in the kingdom.” He paused. “The Hood.” The crowd gasped. Eyes bounced from Cam to Will as they tried to discern which man was the outlaw they’d heard so much about.
Anders went on. “The Hood is no symbol of hope as you’ve been led to believe.” He turned his gaze on Amalie. “She is nothing more than a thief.”
Someone in the crowd screamed while others clamored for answers.
“The Hood is a woman?”
“She fights for us.”
“Free her.”
“She betrayed our queen.”
All these sentiments and more swirled in the air, but Amalie paid them no mind. Her only focus was on Anders, the man who’d taken everything from her when his men killed El. If her hands weren’t chained behind her back, she’d wrap them around his neck and squeeze the life from his bones.
He raised a brow as if he could hear her dark thoughts before turning back to the crowd. “The Hood steals at her pleasure. She murders the innocent and abducts those with the ear of the queen.” He let his words settle over them. “She harbors magic folk.”
Their gasps were all Amalie needed to know the captain had won the people to his side. Magic was no longer illegal in Gaule, but in the small villages, especially those along the border who’d been harmed the most, magic meant evil. Their irrational hatred of it blinded them to all else.
One of the guards hauled Maiya forward. “A Draconian in the Hood’s employ.” The air changed and those who’d voice their support for Amalie only moments ago, yelled demands for her end.
These people hated all those with magic, but Draconians inspired a special kind of ire. They’d once belonged to La Dame. Maiya herself had been the sorceress’ slave.
But they didn’t understand what Amalie always had. Everyone had evil inside them. She lowered her gaze to John who’d moved closer. The difference between good and bad lay in the decision to let that evil out.
A guard slid the noose over Amalie’s head. The rope bit into her skin as he tightened it, sliding the knot until it lay underneath her chin.
A calm overcame her, and she closed her eyes, ignoring the rest of Captain Anders’ words.
When it came time for the accused to make their final confessions, Cam was first. He lifted his voice. “I have no confession to make. I have lived my life in good conscience and regret nothing. You people want blood? Look to those who’ve held you down. The Hood only ever tried to lift the common man up. You should be ashamed of yourselves. You think this is the queen’s desire? She will not stand for this.”
He swept his eyes over the crowd before meeting Amalie’s gaze one final time. Cam had been one of her father’s men, but through no choice of his own. He’d been the first to switch his allegiance to her and stayed at her side since.
He deserved better than an angry mob and a noose. For the first time that day, a tear slipped down her cheek. He gave his head a tiny shake and opened his mouth to speak one final time. Whatever he’d wanted to say was cut off as the floor beneath him dropped open and the sickening snap of bone ripped through the air.
He didn’t move as he hung there. There was no more struggle left in him. The crowd let a few moments pass in impossible silence before the horror struck them. Amalie forced a breath out past her lips, her fate feeling real for the first time.
She pictured Cam marching through her estate on the day he pledged his allegiance to her. She’d thrown most of her father’s men from her home as soon as she took it back from the queen. But he’d been so sincere, so true. And she’d never regretted the trust she placed in him. He’d been one of the first in her band of Hood followers.
Anders looked to Will. “Speak.”
Will’s jaw clenched, and he fixed his eyes on the distance, not looking at the crowd, refusing to utter a single word.
“I’m sorry,” Amalie whispered. She’d led them here. She’d killed them all.
Will finally turned his head to her, his words so low only she could hear. “I’ve done so much wrong in my life. I never thought I’d get to die for something good.”
Will had come to her a year after the Draconian war. He’d chosen not to remain with the mercenaries who fought for the dark sorceress, leaving him alone and hungry. He’d attacked her camp, but left her unharmed. She didn’t know what she’d seen in him that day. A need for redemption? Desperation. Her men searched until they found him. The day he finally pledged loyalty to her, she realized anyone could be saved. Anyone could be good if they desired it. That knowledge shaped the Hood into who she became.
When the door underneath Will’s feet opened, a scream lodged in her throat. She cried not for herself, but for everyone who’d followed her so blindly to this fate. Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked, proving to her in her final moments that her heart still beat inside her chest. That she could still feel something after she thought the cold would never cease.
Fire raged in her belly as she lifted her eyes to Anders. “You think this is the end.” She raised her voice so others could hear, but her focus remained on the captain. “But my mission will never end. The people deserve more than they’re given. Someone will give it to them. Someone will replace me. We are not disposable.” She stilled her quivering lips. “This was never about me. The Hood never belonged to me. This kingdom is falling apart village by village. Soon, it will tumble so far into the abyss, not even Catrine can pull it back. Your hatred has blinded you.”
She looked to where a guard still held Maiya by the arm. “Her magic heals people while your hatred of it tears them apart.” She lifted her eyes to the brilliant blue above. “I am ready to die, but my mission is woven into the fabric of this kingdom. I do not take it with me.”
She closed her eyes, listening to the gears underneath her feet as they worked to open the hole that would take her to another world.
For a moment, she suspended in air before her body dropped and the rope inched up, cutting off the last breath she hadn’t had time to take.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tyson pushed through the crowded alleyway. Everyone in the village had come, clogging the streets. Guards lined the rooftops overlooking the square. And he had no way to get to the platform.
He rammed his shoulder into a couple in front of him, breaking them apart and darting through the gap they created. He’d lost Edmund, but they both knew what they had to do.
A gasp reverberated around the crowd as Anders’ voice rose above them all, revealing the Hood for who she was. Tyson couldn’t hear the rest of the Captain’s words over the din of the surrounding people.
He stumbled as he knocked into a large man. His hands slammed into the stone walkway and he scrambled back to his feet, lifting his eyes to the platform.
Amalie stood next to Will and Cam, her eyes closed. Was she afraid? Did she feel the same fear that sliced through Tyson’s heart?
His magic pooled in his fingertips, but he couldn’t release it yet. They had a plan. Saving Amalie from the hangman’s noose was only the beginning. They also had to escape the village.
He scanned the lines of guards in the eaves. They pointed arrows toward the crowd as if expecting an incursion.
A guard bulled through the crowd, towing Maiya behind him. He shoved her forward, proof that the Hood wasn’t someone the villagers should want to follow. They’d carry the knowledge of her acceptance of magic
far and wide.
She’d go from revered hero to scorned traitor. It no longer mattered in Gaule what the crown’s view on magic was. They didn’t care whether it was legal or not.
The people would always fear the power. They’d always hate the ones who wielded it. Anger sizzled along Tyson’s skin as the crowd turned on Amalie, calling for her death. If they hated magic so much, he’d give them true reason to fear it.
He’d show them what it could truly do.
He made his way to the line of shops across the square and searched the empty buildings until he found a bucket of wash water sitting behind a counter. As he carried it outside, a guard stopped him.
“Oy, no one is allowed inside during the demonstration.”
Demonstration? That was what they were calling executions now? He tamped down his ire and smiled nervously. “I’m sorry, sir.” He pointed to a horse he’d never seen before. “My beast there needs a wee drink.” He held up the pail with a shrug.
The guard considered him for a moment before gesturing for him to leave. Tyson walked toward the horse until the guard no longer watched him and then veered away.
He’d only turned his back for a moment when a thump sounded behind him. He whipped his head around to find Cam’s swinging from a rope. They were too late. His neck must have broken because his legs didn’t thrash. His face changed color as his head lulled forward.
They were out of time.
Tyson’s gaze scanned the surroundings, searching for Edmund. Why hadn’t he been in position yet? Another crash broke through the chaos of Tyson’s mind.
Will.
He shook his head, alarm raising the hair on his arms. He needed Edmund. If he tried to use his water magic to save Amalie, he’d just as likely drown her or weaken himself into a state that did neither of them any good.
“Where are you, Edmund?”
He was so focused on finding Edmund, he didn’t hear most of Amalie’s words until one phrase stuck in his mind. “I’m ready to die.”
No. He wasn’t ready for her to die. He shouldered through the crowd, ignoring the nasty looks directed his way as water sloshed over the sides of the pail. He was only steps away when the door beneath Amalie’s feet crashed open. Her body jerked as it fell through the gap.
Tyson screamed, the sound enveloping him in a haze of panic. He dropped the bucket to the ground and drew the water towards him, his power attaching to every drop. The magic flowed through him like a rushing river wanting to break free of the dam.
Anger fueled it. Desperation made it uncontrollable. Grief turned it deadly.
The water expanded in the air before contracting to form a solid wall. He pushed it out from himself and it exploded forth, striking the guards and villagers nearest, sending them crashing to the ground, unconscious. He pulled it back just enough to prevent them from drowning.
Wave after wave of magic released from his every pore. No one was safe. Royal guards. Innocent villagers. Men. Women. Children.
Prisoner or free.
They all experienced what true power meant. What it could do to them. Tyson twisted his body, sending the water spiraling, a cyclone smashing through the crowd as they screamed and ran, seeking any kind of safety.
Tyson’s chest heaved with the effort and he stumbled back, the magic pulling every bit of energy from his limbs.
He lifted his head, seeing Captain Anders trying to pick himself up off the ground. He’d been knocked from the platform. Tyson clung to every bit of strength he had left as he advanced.
The first true fear he’d ever seen in Anders crossed his face. Tyson had known the Captain since he was a child. He’d been a loyal follower of the man Tyson once thought was his father. He’d caused trouble since that king died, betraying Alex and taking advantage of his mother now that she was queen. He had to be stopped.
He only gave small thought to the knowledge that this was Edmund’s father. The fact remained. He’d killed Amalie. He’d taken everything from Tyson.
Tyson let the magic take control, burning along his skin. He drew water from the ground, letting it pool at his feet.
“My prince.” Anders stumbled back. “Please. I am your mother’s man.”
Tyson growled at that. “Do not mention my mother to me. If she knew what you were truly doing…” He shook his head. “No, you don’t get to plead for your life.” His eyes darkened as he thought of the final moments of life the three now hanging had. “Consider these your last rites. Confess your sins, Captain.”
Anders shook his head, his gaze searching the ground. Tyson sent a spear of water to wash away the knife that lay near his feet. His impatience grew, but Anders remained silent.
I’m ready to die. Amalie’s words rang in his ears. Anders did that to her. He took her desire to live. Tyson curled his fingers, pressing them into his palms as his pulse hammered in his head.
Captain Anders considered him dangerous, not a true prince because of his Belaen heritage, because of his magic. He didn’t know the half of it.
Tyson flicked one palm open, sending a torrent of water flooding into Anders’ every orifice. It streamed through his mouth. His nose. His ears. Taking everything from him, emptying him. The water roared like a rushing river, never wanting to stop as it pulled the life from the man who’d hurt so many people.
Until finally, the captain crumpled right where he stood.
Tyson fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He cried for Amalie. For all the death he’d seen and caused. He could feel his soul shattering. Tyson had killed people before, but only in war.
He supposed this was a kind of war.
Around him, villagers picked themselves up off the ground. Guards tried to contain the mass confusion. The other prisoners remained chained together.
Tyson fell forward onto his hands, struggling to keep his eyes open. It took everything he had to lift his head for one final glance at where Amalie hung lifeless.
Only, what he saw returned some bit of the strength he’d lost.
Amalie hovered, noose still around her neck but not pulled taught. A tunnel of wind kept her from dropping. Her wide eyes found him.
He pushed himself off the ground, stumbling to his feet as he ran on uncoordinated legs. Someone else reached her before him, jumping onto the platform, knife in hand. John’s scarf fell, revealing his haggard face. He held a knife in his teeth as he reached for the rope. He grabbed it and sawed through the fraying threads. The rope dropped over Amalie’s shoulder and the wind lessened, lowering her to the ground.
Tyson lunged forward to catch her before her legs collapsed beneath her. They fell to the ground, both too weak to hold the other up.
“Ty?” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
Tyson pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m here, Ames. I’m here.” Her entire body shook as Tyson rocked her in his arms.
Edmund stumbled out from where he’d hidden himself in an empty storefront. “I was too late.” He fixed his eyes on Cam and Will. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t respond as she clung to Tyson.
Tyson had almost forgotten about the guards still in the village. He had no more strength to fight as they closed in around them. It wasn’t over yet.
“Magic man,” one of the guards shouted. Not prince or highness. If they addressed him with the respect his birth earned him, they’d have to face what they did.
His eyes slid shut as he waited for them to issue their final condemnation. The few villagers who hadn’t fled for their lives, now stood soaking from head to toe. They screamed and jeered, calling for Tyson’s head.
They’d known of their prince’s magic before, but now that he’d used it against them, he was no longer one of them.
Finally, he lifted his head to look at the guard. “What do you want from me?”
The guard strode forward a few steps before veering to the right and stopping in front of Edmund. “You are under arrest for your attack on Gaule.”
Tyson
tried to untangle himself from Amalie and push himself to his feet. His mother’s men couldn’t arrest Tyson without raising questions from the queen, but Edmund was different.
Tyson tried to call on his magic, but all strength had left him. Edmund’s entire body sagged with weakness, but he held his chin high and drew his sword. “You can try.” His sword wavered as he struggled to hold it up. His magic had depleted him.
The guard lunged forward as Edmund’s sword dipped low. Tyson didn’t have time to scream a warning before someone rammed into Edmund’s side, throwing him out of the way. The guard’s sword bit into flesh.
Edmund hit the ground hard, his sword skittering away. But that wasn’t the sight that had them all gaping in horror.
The guard slid his bloodstained blade free of John’s side. John looked down in shock and lifted a hand to feel for the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers as he faltered back, his stance wavering. “Amalie, I’m sorry.” His eyes met Amalie’s as he sank to his knees.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amalie choked on a breath as she forced her body to move, pushing away from Tyson. John. She had to get to John.
The guard stood over him, a scowl on his face. “Traitors always get what they deserve.”
Amalie knew the words were meant for her, but at that moment, she didn’t care. All she saw was her oldest friend lying in the dirt with his life seeping out of him. For her. It was all for her.
She reached his side, and the guard didn’t stop her as she rolled John onto his back. His breath rasped out as if liquid filled his lungs.
It no longer mattered what he’d done to her. She didn’t see the man who’d kept Tyson from her these last few years or the one who’d lied countless times. She’d worried for so long about the blood he’d spilled, not knowing what kind of man that made him. But now, as he tried to speak, the only blood staining his hands was his own. He was still the boy she’d known. The one who’d convinced her she could make a difference, that she wasn’t tainted by the name of her family.