Golden Crown

by M. Lynn

  People ran toward them, led by Matteo.

  He stopped when he saw Edmund, his eyes welling up. “Is he—”

  “No,” Etta said quickly. “We need Esme.”

  Matteo yelled to the people behind him. “Someone find Esme!” He knelt on the other side of Edmund and pressed his fingers to his neck. He sagged in relief and touched Edmund’s face gently. “He wanted to draw out your magic, but this…”

  “I…” Tears clogged her throat. She wiped her face and tried again. “No one should have this much power, Matteo. Do you see what I did? It’s nothing but evil.”

  “This wasn’t your fault.”

  His forgiveness only made it worse. “Of course it was. I almost killed him.”

  “But you didn’t.” He reached across Edmund to take her hand.

  Esme arrived quickly and knelt beside them, immediately putting her hands on Edmund’s chest. She closed her eyes and Etta had never been more glad they let the Draconian healer stay after she’d escaped La Dame’s employ. Since that night, Esme kept her distance from the Belaens, most of whom still didn’t trust her. But now she was here.

  Edmund’s breathing evened out and before long, his eyes fluttered open.

  Etta refrained from throwing herself across him and begging his forgiveness. She frantically shifted through his blood-stained blonde hair but there was no cut there. The healing worked.

  Unable to look into his eyes, she jumped to her feet and started running with no destination in mind. After a while, she found herself atop the cliffs once again looking into the abyss. The swirling waters resembled her powers. Dark. Overwhelming. Uncontrollable. With each passing day, they threatened to pull her into their dangerous current.

  A warm presence stood beside her, bringing her away from the edge, and she let the tears flow as she turned to bury her face in Vérité’s mane.

  His nose nudged her cheek and she pulled back to lose herself in his wide understanding eyes. She couldn’t explain it, but Vérité got it, got her. Their souls were entwined. He’d saved her more times than she could count. From her enemies. From herself. She could no longer differentiate between the two. She was her own enemy.

  Power surged down the length of her arms and she pulled back. What if she hurt Verite? She’d never forgive herself.

  Her breath wheezed in and out of her throat rapidly. No, she told herself. Edmund was going to be okay. He was fine.

  Her hands shook as her fingers sank into her long hair, wanting to pull it free. Vérité’s eyes pleaded with her. He wanted to go for a ride. To feel a part of her once again. As her heart hammered in her chest, she turned and walked away. His eyes followed her, but she didn’t turn back.

  Before long, she was back in the place she’d sparred with Edmund. It was where she always went to think, to lose herself in the forest. She’d always felt her best when surrounded by trees that protected her from the harsher realities of the world.

  In Gaule, the Black Forest hadn’t only been her home. It’d been her sanctuary. She’d lived with her father, hidden by his wards. It was the only time she’d been safe. The people who killed her mother couldn’t find them there. The king who’d once been her father’s friend couldn’t hunt them down if they were nowhere to be found.

  Her father had kept many secrets. Some of which had been revealed slowly since his death. She hadn’t known the full history of their line or that he’d secretly fathered a child with someone who wasn’t her mother. Not just any child. A prince.

  She’d been taught to hate Gaule and the family that ran the kingdom, but also that hate wasn’t enough. It wasn’t freedom. If anything, it was another prison. Especially when forced to stand by the side of the one you hate… to… She shook her head. Harder than hate was the end of hatred when that barrier fell. Because then, you risked losing everything you were.

  She’d fought it. Fought her feelings for him, but the curse tying them together amplified everything inside of her. Fighting it was useless.

  Now she saw her feelings for what they really were. Another curse. She wouldn’t let herself give in to them. Not when a crown sat on her head.

  Because that’s what she was. A queen. She hadn’t earned it. She hadn’t defeated La Dame, only chased her away for a time. But Basile blood coursed through her and to her people that was enough. They would follow a descendant of Aurora and Phillip to the ends of the earth.

  Whether she used her magic or not.

  As she wiped the tears from her face, she looked up into the afternoon sun, knowing the time for indecision was past. She’d wallowed. She’d grieved. She’d let her fear overcome her.

  Not anymore.

  Heading off toward the beach, she pulled her magic back, holding it in, refusing to let it out. When it was inside of her, she could control it.

  And she would.

  Because she was Persinette Basile.

  She arrived at the beach as a wooden rowboat pulled ashore laden with supplies. Their ancient allies across the sea were determined to see Bela regain everything it once had. The Madrans had no magic, and it was plain they feared it. The sailors refused to leave the ship or speak to the Belaens, but their king knew La Dame was the greater threat.

  Matteo spotted her, and she jogged over.

  “Thought you’d be with Edmund,” she said.

  He pressed his foot down on the bow of the boat and hopped off, splashing through the water to walk toward her. “He’ll be fine. I was needed here.”

  The unspoken words were plain. He was needed because she hadn’t been around. Matteo and Edmund had been fulfilling her duties.

  A woman stood farther down the beach holding out a hand in front of her. The water receded from around the boat, allowing others to descend and begin carrying off the supplies. They worked in sync with one another and Etta realized they must have done this very same thing many times before as each ship came in.

  She couldn’t take her eyes from the woman who was grinning as she made the water splash up to hit one of the men.

  The trick with the water reminded her of Tyson.

  Matteo snapped her out of her depressing thoughts. “Glad you finally joined us.”

  An apology stuck in her throat but she couldn’t push the words out. There was so much she was sorry for. That she hadn’t been strong enough. That she’d let their enemy leave to fight another day, leaving the threat hanging over them. That she didn’t know how to be a part of a community. She never had.

  Her people thrived on finally having a community to call their own. They no longer had to live in secret, alone.

  But that was all she’d ever known.

  So, as she looked at Matteo, one of only two living souls who shared her lineage, she thought of so many things to say, settling on only two words that couldn’t possibly encompass any of it. “Me too.”

  She worked all afternoon unloading supplies and lugging them to the village.

  As the sun sank on the horizon, her people settled in around the cook fires for mealtime. Some pulled out odd stringed instruments, sending notes into the night.

  Etta walked past them through the village where homes bustled with activity. She accepted greetings as she ducked inside one of the homes being used for healing. Edmund rested on his bed. Matteo sat next to him, leaning forward to hear him speak as he offered him a bowl of rice and beans.

  When Matteo’s eye caught hers, he jumped away. “I’ll give you a moment.”

  Etta took the spot Matteo vacated on the end of the bed, her eyes focusing on her hands.

  “Etta,” Edmund said quietly. “Look at me.”

  She shook her head.

  “Persinette Basile, if you don’t look me in the eye right now, next time we spar, I won’t let you win.”

  Her eyes blazed as they snapped to his. “Let me win?”

  He chuckled. “Knew that would get you.”

  She frowned. “Edmund–”

  “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard,” he interrupted. />
  “Wait, you think this is your fault? I almost killed you.”

  He flinched at her words but tried to hide it. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  “If Esme hadn’t come…”

  “I know. But Etta, you can’t let this stop you from using your powers again.”

  He read her too well. “I can’t control them, Edmund. You saw that. They’re too much.”

  “Nothing is too much for you.”

  “How do you have so much faith in me?”

  “You’re my best friend.”

  Warm pride spread through her but an awkwardness settled in her mind. So, of course, she had to ruin the moment. “I thought Alexandre was your best friend.”

  “First.” He held up one finger weakly. “His name is Alex. You’re only calling him Alexandre to pretend you really do hate him like you think you should. But I know better. Second, my feelings for Alex will always be complicated. You know the feeling.” He shot her a smirk, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he went on before she could. “But you, little queen, you are my family.”

  Her eyes glassed over, but she was able to keep herself from crying. She nodded, soaking in the strength he always gave her. He made her believe in herself and belief had power. Almost as much power as magic. “I need your help, Edmund.”

  “Anything.”

  She sucked in a breath. Once the words were out, Edmund wouldn’t let her take them back. “I need to learn how to control my new magic.”

  His lips curved into a smile and she put a hand over his mouth to keep him from responding before she got it all out.

  “If people are going to insist on making me the queen, I need to be able to protect them. I can feel the power crawling underneath my skin and it’s only a matter of time before I explode. We can’t let that happen. When it first came to me, I could grasp it, mold it, and use it against La Dame. Since then, it’s grown and amplified.”

  When he finally spoke, his words were muffled underneath her hand. “I’m in.”

  “You might get hurt.”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t know what it’ll do to you.”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of helping? Because it won’t work. I’m going to be there for you no matter what happens.”

  She nodded and withdrew her hand. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “Esme will demand I take another day to rest.” He grinned, something evil sparking in his eyes. “But I told Matteo that you’d be more than happy to hold court tomorrow because you’d feel guilty about what happened to me.”

  “No way.”

  “Etta, you’re the queen.”

  “So, you’re using what happened for personal gain?”

  “Not personal.” His grin didn’t waver. “It’s for Bela. Your people need to see you acting like their queen.”

  “You’re evil.”

  He nodded. “That is an accurate assessment.”

  “Fine, but now I’m leaving before I try to knock you unconscious again just for the sake of shutting you up.”

  Glee danced across his face. “So, we’re at the joking stage of me almost dying?”

  She matched his grin and turned to walk away. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

  Chapter Four

  Fires lit up the night sky outside the gates of the palace as Alex looked on. That army wasn’t going anywhere. Other forces had joined them in the night, no doubt summoned by the nobles who were splitting Gaule in two.

  Alex scooted forward on his belly to the top of the hill to get a better vantage point. He hadn’t come to gather their numbers. That would need to be done in the light of day. No, on this night, he’d crept out of his tent and away from the guards who were his constant shadow because he needed to see it for it to be real.

  They were trying to take his throne. It wasn’t a throne he wanted. He was raised to be king but had never embraced it. Before his father was crowned, a council ruled Gaule. The king headed the council, but he had very little authority on his own. He was a figurehead.

  But his father took his power. He stripped it from the council with the support of some of the most powerful people in the kingdom. He’d said it was the only way to keep them safe from La Dame as Gaule’s young men and women fell on battlefields, surrounded by a dying hope.

  Life ran in circles and now Alex was forced to fight for his crown as his father had. Then La Dame would come.

  Maybe Etta could defeat her, but that filled him with another kind of dread. If something happened to her… No. La Dame wasn’t only Bela’s problem. She’d destroy them all.

  If they didn’t destroy themselves first.

  “How many fighters do they have?” Ara whispered, crouching down beside him.

  “More than us,” he grunted, shooting her a questioning look.

  “I saw you sneaking away from camp. You really shouldn’t do that, your Majesty.”

  He rubbed his knuckles against his jaw and shifted his eyes back to the walls of his home. “Outside the palace, I’m just Alex. Please.”

  She nodded seriously. “Alex.”

  They stayed there, side by side watching in silence for a while longer before Alex pushed himself up. Ara matched his stride to walk through the darkness until they saw the waning fires of their friendlier camp.

  “I came looking for you for a reason,” Ara said as she followed him into his tent without an invitation.

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  She sat on the end of the bed as if she owned the place. “Can you tell me about her?”

  “About who?”

  She raised an eyebrow as if the answer was obvious. “Persinette Basile.”

  His first instinct was to deny her. Nothing good would come from discussing Etta with a near stranger.

  Breaking the curse shifted his feelings. Instead of the intense joy he’d once had, all he could summon was regret.

  “I…” he started, swallowing hard. “Why?”

  “She was in your household. You must have known her well.” She paused. “You obviously know I have magic. My mother hailed from Bela. She raised me on stories of the Basiles.”

  Alex drew his brows together and busied himself by splashing water from a washbasin onto his face. He’d known Duke Caron’s first wife. She hadn’t been Belaen.

  As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Ara sighed. “You’re thinking of the lady Emily. She wasn’t my mother. My father is a good man… but he also has many weaknesses. Women are one of them.”

  Alex turned to her once again, this time thinking of his sister. Would he have matched her to such a man if he knew?

  The answer was yes, of course. He’d had no choice. He needed Caron. And the man was kind, much more so than any other eligible nobles who’d vied for her hand.

  Ara sensed she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “Be assured, he will make Camille happy. They’re all happy. My father has so much to give that none of them are lacking in anything. After my mother died, he took me into his household to be raised with his three legitimate sons and two illegitimate ones.”

  “You have five brothers?”

  She grimaced. “And I’m the youngest. Imagine their protests when my father put me at the head of the army.”

  Alex laughed, feeling something break loose in his chest as he imagined five large men being passed over for the sprightly Ara.

  She smiled, her lips tight. “Not to mention two of them are soldiers who now have to take orders from me. They thought the messenger was a fake meant to lead us into a trap. But I had the final say and here we are.”

  As if on cue, someone called Ara’s name. She scooted from the bed. “That would be Hendry.”

  Alex followed her out and an impossibly tall man crossed his arms, his eyes flicking from Ara to Alex and then back again. “What is going on here?”

  “Show some respect to your king, Hendry.” Ara stomped her foot.

  “I will when he isn’t luri
ng my little sister into his tent unchaperoned.”

  Ara rolled her eyes but didn’t get a chance to respond as a loud crash sounded behind them and Tyson barreled through camp, colliding with a large cook pot. His curses reached them, but he didn’t stop his forward progression. By the time he reached them, he was panting. Once he caught his breath, he scanned Hendry from head to toe. “Dude, you’re tall.”

  “Ty,” Alex said. “Why are you running through camp like your hair is on fire?”

  He ran a hand through his hair as if making sure it was indeed intact and Alex held in a laugh.

  “I remembered something,” he finally said. “Something important.”

  Alex scanned their surroundings for people listening and then pulled his brother into his tent with Ara and Hendry behind them. The space was cramped with the four of them, but Alex barely noticed as he focused on Tyson’s intense face.

  “There’s a messenger’s hole.”

  “What?” Alex snapped. “What are you talking about?”

  “The tunnels used to be used for messengers to come and go without alerting the rest of the palace to their presence. Most kings used them for their contacts with agents of La Dame when she was our ally.”

  “La Dame was never Gaule’s ally,” Hendry said harshly.

  Alex started to refute his statement, but Ara beat him to it. “Don’t be stupid, brother. Of course, she was. Why else would Gaule still be standing when Bela was destroyed generations ago? We may not like it. We may be ashamed. But we cannot pretend our history doesn’t exist.”

  Tyson waved a hand at them. “None of that matters right now. What I’m trying to tell you is we have a way to get a message into the palace.”

  They all stopped moving, stopped talking. Alex would have sworn they even stopped breathing.

  Ara regained her wits first. “Explain.”

  “The tunnels only open from the inside, but messengers had to have a way to inform their contacts of their presence. Of the need to open the tunnels. I didn’t remember it because I’ve only ever seen it once and then completely forgot about it.” His pleading eyes fixed on Alex. “This is how we save them.”