Golden Crown

by M. Lynn

He sighed and climbed the steps before dropping down beside them.

  “Alex, what’s wrong?” Amalie touched his arm lightly.

  He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. He’d done such a good job holding it together, but now as they looked to him for answers, all the emotion broke free.

  “They took it,” he said softly.

  “Took what?” Camille asked.

  “My crown.” The words pierced his heart. How could this happen? How could he lose the one thing he’d been born for? “Duchess Moreau convinced them. They removed me from the throne.”

  “They can’t do that!”

  “They can, sister. And your husband was part of it.”

  “I’ll talk to him. Alex, you’re the king. No one else. It can only be you. Who is going to rule if not the first-born Durand? It has to be a Durand and I refuse.”

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s over. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “There’s–” Amalie cut her off.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Alex grunted.

  Silence fell over the three of them like a blanket.

  “You’re going to leave me too, aren’t you?” Camille asked in resignation. “Wait, don’t even answer that because I know what you’re going to say and it’ll be wrong.”

  “Camille, I–”

  Camille started to laugh and Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that sound coming from her. Confusion mixed with amusement in his eyes as she clutched her stomach.

  “I think she’s finally lost it,” Amalie whispered.

  When Camille calmed enough to speak, her eyes were swimming. “You never did want to be king. All those years, I resented you for being father’s heir when you didn’t even want it.” She breathed out slowly, one hand still gripping her side. “But then I saw what it did to you.”

  “What it did to me?”

  “Yes, Alexandre. This role that was thrust upon you. Gone was the easy smile I’d always been envious of and the obvious joy. The crown weighed on your head like chains around your neck.” She shook her head. “My jealousy turned into pity… and a bit of respect.”

  “Just a bit?”

  She held up two fingers close together. “This much.” A smile softened her harsh face. “I didn’t want it anymore after that. How did Gaule end up with two heirs who don’t want the title and a third who was no heir at all?”

  Amalie chewed on her lip at the mention of Tyson. They should have seen it all along. Ty was the best of them, too good to have been fathered by the man who led Gaule into the purge.

  “But, Alexandre.” She leaned across Amalie to look him directly in the eye. “You’re free.” The sun reflected off her irises, making them glow as they held steady with his own. “The only question left is what are you going to do with this freedom?”

  Amalie didn’t wait for him to respond to his sister before she jumped in. “I’m coming with you.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “To Bela. I assume that’s where you’re going.”

  “Um…”

  “She’s right, brother,” Camille said. “We’ve all heard about Ara’s message.”

  “What?” He sighed. It shouldn’t surprise him that the news had wound through the palace. If Duchess Moreau was planning to denounce him, she’d have wanted to put rumors into play. Only, this time they weren’t rumors.

  “I don’t like Etta,” Camille stated bluntly.

  Amalie rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”

  “No, hear me out. I don’t like her. I think magic is dangerous still. BUT, there are things far more dangerous than Persinette Basile. Gaule cannot help Bela in this fight. We’d stand no chance.” She scanned her brother’s face. “You, Alexandre, no longer represent all of Gaule. Perhaps it’s time you go fight for something greater than a throne you never wanted. You and Etta are connected. You’re probably the one person who can help her in this.”

  “As long as I get to come.” Amalie crossed her arms over her chest. “If you get to fight for Etta, I can fight for Ty. Plus, I’m probably better with a sword than you, anyway.”

  Camille grinned over the top of Amalie’s head. “She’s got you there, brother. You’re terrible with a sword.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, Camille.”

  “For the insult?”

  “No, for everything.”

  He stood and pulled his sister to her feet, slipping her cane back into her hand. Looking over his shoulder, he caught the determination in Amalie’s eyes.

  “Fine,” he said to her. “We leave at first light.”

  She nodded once, trying to conceal the satisfied smile on her lips as she broke off from them to head for her rooms.

  Alex and Camille walked in silence toward the royal family wing and found Simon outside Alex’s rooms.

  Alex knew what that meant. He pushed inside to find his mother waiting. She paced the length of the room nervously, stopping in her tracks when she noticed her son and daughter. Tears streamed down her face.

  The door shut and Duchess Moreau appeared behind them.

  Alex held back the growl that tried to work its way up his throat for the woman who had just usurped his throne.

  Instead, he cleared his throat, not giving any of them time to speak. “I am going to inform you of a decision that you now have no say over. Without a crown on my head, the council does not decide my movements inside Gaule… or across the border.” His voice was cold as he tried to keep the emotion from it.

  “This palace has always been my home, but it is no longer where my path lies. Tomorrow, I will leave for Dracon. Any who will join me are welcome.” He nodded toward the duchess. “You may go. We have no need of each other any longer.”

  She didn’t move. “Alexandre.” There was no sadness or regret in her voice, only… hope? “We have named a replacement and will hold the coronation in three weeks’ time once the villages and estates across the realm have been informed as to what has occurred this day.”

  “How could you possibly have named a new heir? Gaulean law states it must be of the royal family. Tyson is gone. Camille would refuse you. You have already betrayed me.”

  A moment of silence stretched into two and it was his mother who spoke next. “There is yet one person who wants to heal Gaule.”

  Why hadn’t he seen it? It was so simple. She’d been able to quiet the mob with a single speech. The people loved her in a way they’d never loved him. If he hadn’t been so determined to hold on to his crown, he’d have given it to her himself.

  “Queen Catrine,” he whispered, raising his eyes to meet his mother’s. “Was that the plan all along?”

  “No,” she gasped. “Of course not.”

  Camille’s hand slid into his and she squeezed.

  “Alexandre.” Duchess Moreau clasped her hands in front of her. “I am sorry it had to happen this way, but there would never be peace with you as a king. You said it yourself.” She walked toward him, her dark hair swinging down her back. “You must go. If Ara says you are needed, I believe her. For all of us, you have to leave. Your place is there.”

  Realization crashed into him and he stepped back. “You did all of this just so I would join the battle against La Dame?”

  “These are dark times, Alexandre.” She pursed her lips. “There is a village near my estate where you will find some who will join you in your journey into Dracon to join the fight. I wish you well. Tell Persinette that she holds all of our lives in her hands.”

  With those words, she left. Catrine rushed to her children and pulled them both against her. The betrayal Alex felt before now extinguished slightly, leaving only a few lingering doubts. They’d done what was best for both Gaule and Bela. At least, he hoped they did.

  “I’m sorry,” his mother whispered.

  He leaned back so he could look into her face and brushed aside her tears. “You’re going to give this kingdom a peace they’ve never known, mother.”

  She sm
iled. “Thank you for saying that.”

  Camille sniffled and Alex laughed. “Are you crying, Camille?”

  “Shut up,” she groaned.

  “I just don’t think I’ve seen you cry since we were kids.”

  “I have something in my eye.”

  “Yeah, those are called tears.”

  Catrine swatted the back of his head. “Alexandre, stop teasing your sister. She’s just worried about you.”

  Camille groaned again. “Mother.”

  “What? When someone in your family is about to leave the kingdom to go fight against a woman who is more powerful than pretty much the rest of the world put together, I think you’re allowed to worry.”

  “You’re my mother,” Alex said. “Aren’t you supposed to give me more confidence?”

  “No.” She snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “I’m supposed to let you know that we love you.”

  He hugged her again and this time, when he released her, he knew he was doing the right thing. It no longer felt like something had been taken from him. Instead, he’d gained it all. Everything. A different future than he’d ever expected. A chance to fight for what he believed in.

  Etta.

  She needed him.

  I’m coming. He sent the thought into the atmosphere as he prepared for a new kind of journey, a new kind of battle.

  Don’t give up. I’ll be there.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ice encased Dracon. Or, it would be more accurate to say ice encased the walls surrounding the dark kingdom. The black gates rose before the Belaen army, spanning the length of the pass between two mountains. Fog swirled through the valley as Etta nudged Vérité forward. The cobbled-together army of Bela waited behind her.

  They’d never been in battle. For most of their lives, they hadn’t even been able to use their magic. Now, she was asking them to wield it like a weapon.

  Etta let her hand drift to the sword hanging at her waist, getting more comfort from that than the power in her blood. She’d spent more of her life practicing with sword or pole than with magic. It would always center her. The weight of the blade. The memories of it slicing through her enemies.

  “How are we supposed to get past those?” Tyson asked, gesturing to the gates.

  Edmund met Etta’s eyes. “We’re not.”

  “Oh.”

  Etta jerked Vérité around and faced her people without a word. A crown sat atop her head, but it didn’t belong to her, and it was time the true crown returned to Bela.

  “Make camp,” she ordered brusquely before sliding down from Vérité’s back.

  Landon approached tentatively.

  “General,” Etta acknowledged with barely a nod.

  “Your Majesty.” He lowered his head.

  “Have your men prepare a watch.”

  “I’m a little unsure of this battle plan. In Madra, we believe in striking first. He who catches the others unawares will win the day.”

  Etta studied the older man. He’d seen many battles from what she’d been told. The Madran forces told her people tales of their kingdom’s constant wars. But he’d never faced magic.

  “Tell me, general, do you truly think La Dame doesn’t already know we’re here? That she hasn’t known we’ve been coming since the day we left Bela?”

  His brow furrowed, deepening the lines on his face.

  “I didn’t think so.” Her eyes drifted back toward the gates. “No. We will wait. She will let us enter through this very gate.”

  His jaw clenched. “And it will surely be a trap.”

  “Well, I am the queen. I will decide which traps we fall into.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Probably, but I also understand what she wants and I plan to give it to her.”

  “What does she want?”

  “Me.”

  Someone tried to take Vérité away to feed him. “I’ll take care of him,” Etta snapped.

  “But, your Majesty, that’s what I’m here for,” a young boy stammered.

  “I said I’d handle him.”

  The boy ran off. She didn’t like to be away from Vérité on a night such as this. It might very well be her final night.

  She didn’t need to take Vérité’s reins. He followed her through the mess of people setting up tents and stoking fires. There was no point in trying to hide their presence.

  Once Vérité finished grazing, she left him near her tent. Edmund fell into step beside her and she wondered how long he’d been following her.

  “I don’t like the silence coming from the wall,” he said. “There should be lines of archers atop them. I still don’t like your plan. She may not do as we anticipated?”

  “No, Edmund, La Dame has a fatal flaw.”

  Behind those walls should be an army of Madran mercenaries, every Draconian with magic, and the most powerful sorcerer in the world.

  Etta didn’t expect they’d beat a full army, but they didn’t need to. Everything had been orchestrated to get her close to La Dame to end this once and for all.

  La Dame’s fatal flaw? She would sacrifice every person in Dracon for a chance at her revenge. Killing Etta would mean ending the direct line of the Belaen king, the very source of the Basile power. If she took Tyson and Matteo out as well, the entire Basile line would be no more.

  Her single-mindedness in her desires made her predictable. Or, at least Etta hoped it did.

  The other possibility was as Esme said—that La Dame wanted Etta and her power to stand beside her.

  She wasn’t sure which was more worrisome.

  She entered the command tent to find Ara, Tyson, and Landon in a heated debate.

  “The Madrans are the most skilled fighters here,” Landon claimed. “We will not be pushed aside.”

  “But you don’t have magic,” Tyson argued. “That makes you vulnerable.”

  Ara’s mind had gone in a different direction. “I’ll challenge your best fighter and then we’ll see who the most skilled is.”

  “Enough,” Matteo snapped, his eyes finding Etta. “We will stick to the original battle plan.”

  “I don’t like it,” Landon grumbled.

  Etta sat in an empty chair and leaned toward him. “No one said you have to like it. Look, my goal is to get to La Dame, but I will not sacrifice everyone else to do it. We stick with the original formation. Landon, you will position your men among mine. My most powerful magic wielders will take up their positions in an outside ring. I’m sorry, but if we face the Draconians right away, and without magic, we will be rendered useless.”

  Landon crossed his arms over his chest but leaned back and nodded. He’d been trained to take orders. Ara and Tyson had not.

  “Ara,” Etta began, preparing herself for an imminent argument. “I need you to remain with the small force I’m leaving outside the gates.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Ara scowled. “You need me.”

  “I do,” Etta agreed. “But think with your magic right now, not your sword. We don’t know what La Dame has in store for us and I need you to find somewhere where you can watch for any surprises to warn us.”

  Ara sagged back in defeat. “That’s…” She sighed. “A good idea.”

  “I know.” Etta turned to the rest of her most trusted people. “I…” She stopped, fiddling with the end of her braid. Her fingers inched up and she removed the false crown. She wouldn’t enter Dracon wearing it.

  “You don’t have to give us the speech, Etta,” Tyson said. “We all understand the stakes.”

  “She probably wouldn’t be good at the death speech, anyway.” Edmund laughed, and it sounded wrong in the tense atmosphere.

  “Death speech?” Matteo raised an eyebrow, but the fond look he gave Edmund spoke of hidden depths.

  “Yeah. She’d say something awkward like ‘we probably won’t all make it out of this’. Then there’d be silence because she never knows any comforting words to say and we’d all leave with the sin
gular thought that we were probably going to die because the speech had never moved past that point.”

  “You would speak to your queen this way?” Landon asked. Etta almost laughed at him. His defense of her was admirable, but he didn’t understand Edmund.

  So instead, she fixed Edmund with an unblinking stare. He met her eyes.

  “You’re an ass,” she said finally. “I’m not that bad at speeches.”

  He draped an arm over her shoulder. “Trust me, I just saved us all. When you speak to the army in the morning, make sure you leave out the doom and gloom we love you for.”

  She scowled, and he laughed. How did he take everything so lightly? She envied that about him.

  “You have a bit of an emotional streak,” he went on.

  Etta pushed him away. She’d never told anyone other than Alex how the Basile power tore her up on the inside, infusing anger into every thought and action. If she did, they wouldn’t fear her, but they’d fear for her. They’d try to prevent her from everything she’d planned.

  She’d spent so much effort learning to gain control over the magic, but that wasn’t how she’d beat La Dame. She’d win by ceding her will. By giving in. By letting it overpower her and unleashing its wrath.

  But none of them knew that. They might be going into battle against the Draconian forces, but when the real war began, she’d be utterly alone.

  She left them in search of her own tent. A bedroll sat inside and not much else. Bela didn’t have a lot of the luxuries of Gaule so even the queen must make do. She didn’t mind though.

  She left behind the emptiness of her tent and found Vérité outside. As she closed her eyes, she ran a hand along his soft mane. “Remember when it was just you and me, boy?”

  He snorted as if he too recalled the wide-open forests and their time riding among the flowers. The only power she’d had then was magic that made plants grow.

  “Would you go back?” she asked, leaning into him. “Me either. They’ve always needed a queen, needed a kingdom.” Back then, Bela had been an empty land, the idea of a thriving kingdom that only existed in the minds of magic folk hiding in Gaule. “We may not make it out of there. Dammit! Stupid Edmund.” His words ran through her mind. A death speech. She would not give a death speech.