Golden Crown E-Book

M. Lynn

• Herausgeber: M. Lynn
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A rebellious queen. A dying king. 
Etta once thought she wanted to kill Alexandre. Now, she will do anything to save him. 

She never wanted to be a queen, never thought of restoring her long-dead kingdom. Bela is in ruins, destroyed by years of abandonment and a recent battle, but still, it is the only safe place for her people. 
La Dame lurks on the border in Dracon, waiting for her revenge. 
In Gaule, magic folk are hunted and punished for their Belaen heritage. 
The magic folk crave peace. 
A trip into Gaule brings Etta face to face with the one person who can destroy her with one simple act: dying. 
No longer tied to Alex by magic, his death should mean nothing to her. 
As she learns more about who she truly is and the legacy of her family, she’s forced to answer three questions. 
Can she save the king of Gaule? 
Can he be trusted if she does? 
And what will it mean for her people if she finds herself unable to let go of him again? 

Leseprobe

Golden Crown © 2018 M. Lynn

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Edited by Melissa Craven

Proofread by Patrick Hodges

Cover by Covers by Combs

Contents

The Six Kingdoms

The Castle of Gaule

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

What’s next?

Glass Kingdom

About M. Lynn

For Owen, whose smile can make any day a good day.

The Castle of Gaule

Chapter One

It may as well have been the edge of the world. The white cliffs stretching above the frothing sea, their razor-sharp edge dropping over open sky.

The danger was in getting too close to where the earth dropped off. To where the dark depths gurgled. But there was a thrill in going where no sane person would go, in focusing on nothing but the steady balance that would keep you from tumbling into the deep.

Etta walked that line, between sanity and crazed daring. She flung her arms out to her sides and hung her toes over the edge.

Behind her stood the ruins of the palace of her ancestors. It still bore the memory of what they’d done. The scars were etched deep into the soul of Bela, never to be forgotten.

But they were here. Her people had returned and they worked night and day to make the village everything they needed it to be.

And she wanted to step off the edge.

She didn’t want to die. That was the opposite of everything she longed for. It only held nothingness and she didn’t want nothingness.

She wanted everything. To feel everything. To rid herself of the chill that entered her soul the day she faced La Dame.

Her legs wobbled beneath her, just enough to throw her off balance. She pitched forward, her feet knocking a shower of rocks over the edge.

Should she be afraid? The question struck her as she failed once again to regain her footing and slipped farther forward.

Her left foot hit open air, suspended for a moment of disbelief before the right foot joined it and she tumbled over. The water neared and her stomach dropped, but she didn’t scream.

A rush of wind pushed underneath her, lifting her in an arc, and a sigh escaped her lips. As her back slammed onto the grassy cliff, stealing the air from her lungs, she lifted her eyes.

“Edmund.” Brushing her pants, she got to her feet.

His brow scrunched in worry. “That’s the third time I’ve kept you from falling. You shouldn’t be coming up here anymore.”

She brushed past him. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t make my decisions for me.”

He fell into step beside her. “You could’ve stopped yourself if you’d used your magic.”

She grunted.

“Have you used it since Matteo put that crown on your head?”

“Drop it, Edmund.”

He stopped walking. “I’m worried about you.”

“And I’m worried our people won’t have adequate supplies when winter comes.” Against her better judgment, she turned to face him. He’d been nagging her all week.

He rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his jaw. “We’ve had quite a few new arrivals and they’re all bringing carts of supplies from the villages in Gaule. That along with their magic and the ship that arrived from Cana should speed things along.”

As soon as word got out that Bela once again belonged to the Belaens, some of the old allies from across the sea came knocking. Cana arrived first. A kingless land ruled by clans, the histories called them Bela’s number one trading partner. Back when the Belaen docks bustled with activity. The Madrans followed them, the king of Madra wanted to cement an alliance, fearing they’d turn their magic on him.

Edmund wouldn’t quit with the frown so she grabbed his arm. “Edmund, I’m–”

“Fine,” he finished for her. “I’ve heard it before.”

“I was going to say I’m not the one who matters.”

His lips curved up just the slightest bit and he shook his head. “You sound like a queen I guess. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve spent so much of my life around a prince.”

He gripped both her shoulders and ducked his head to look into her eyes. “But you’re wrong. You matter. You always have.”

Her shoulders sagged and he pulled her against his solid chest, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’m glad you stayed.” After they saved Alexandre Durand and battled La Dame, she’d been sure Edmund’s loyalty to the prince of Gaule would override any love for his ancestral home. Tyson’s had. Her own brother. But Alex’s brother too. She tried to keep Alex from her thoughts, but it wasn’t easy when everything in their lives seemed forever entwined.

When Edmund made his choice to stay with her, she’d never been more grateful for anything.

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “Why, Persinette Basile, that might be the first compliment you’ve ever given me.”

She pulled away. “It wasn’t a compliment, merely a statement of fact.”

He grinned. “Of course, my queen.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s what you are.”

“Only because of the magic that flows through my veins and the name I bear. The crown is an illusion. I can’t lead these people.” She gestured to the people walking to and from the village.

He dropped his arm across her shoulders as Matteo spotted them and hurried over.

“You guys hungry?” Matteo asked.

“Sure.”

As Etta followed her cousin to the cook fires, people bowed. Some uttered ‘Your Majesty.’ Trust shone in their eyes. They’d seen her fight their greatest enemy and drive her away. They’d watched as she came into the power of the Basiles.

Those who’d arrived since the fight were told the stories every night, making her into the hero of their dreams.

Etta didn’t feel like a hero.

She was crushed. Broken. Empty.

The curse she’d lived her entire life vowing to break turned out to be the only thing holding her together. It was the cruelest sort of irony.

And she was scared of herself. The power she’d unleashed. It sat under her skin, like a thousand tiny ants, begging to be released. She held it back, afraid that if she went down that road, if she experienced the immensity of it as she had before, she wouldn’t be able to come back. But in holding its fiery hatred in, she lost all other emotions.

She didn’t want to let the magic control her.

Her people had been sharing supplies, using a few cook fires at the edge of the village to prepare their meals. After accepting a bowl of grain mush and salted fish, she made her way into the woods.

Little feet ran after her and as soon as she heard him, she turned. “Henry, you shouldn’t wander off from your mom.”

Henry and Analise had been among the magic folk being held in town by La Dame. She’d created an illusion of a grand palace. The only thing that hadn’t been an illusion was the small village and Etta now knew it was because her people had been forced to build it. They’d been prisoners, unable to leave, instead, being forced to arrive at the palace for a ball each night.

When La Dame left, her magic had faded from the land, leaving behind a broken landscape.

“Where are you going?” Henry asked. His magic cloaked them in silence. It was as easy for him as breathing.

Envy choked her words and she turned away. “Head on back. I’ll return before you go to sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment but then obeyed her as he always did. Relief bloomed within her when the edges of his power no longer tried to draw hers forth.

But she couldn’t, wouldn’t use it. Not since… she rubbed a hand across her face and sat on the soft pine pillow of the forest floor, leaning her back against a tree.

Grass struggled to poke up through the pine needles, begging for her help. Wanting her to make them grow. Life was the first power she knew. Flowers. Grasses. Trees.

It was the only power that felt like hers, but it had been tainted. The ancient Basile power now coursed through her veins, mixing and confusing what was there before.

She heard him before he spoke, but kept her eyes focused on the bowl of mush in her lap as if willing it to become a feast. But even that would’ve been tasteless to her.

“People are beginning to wonder about you,” Edmund said. “You come out here every night to eat alone.”

Music drifted through the air from the way he’d come. She hadn’t known many Belaens throughout her life, but she’d learned they loved their music. Dancing. Laughter. Joy.

Edmund followed her gaze to the path behind him.

She shook her head. “They celebrate, even after everything they’d been through. They’ve been persecuted for generations. Now they have nothing.”

“They have Bela. We all do. A country to call our own. One where we need not hide.” He sat down beside her and nudged her shoulder. “And they have a queen.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “Queen.”

“I seem to recall a coronation.”

“Edmund, the crown is no more real than La Dame’s illusions.”

“They chose you.”

“No, they didn’t. They chose my blood. Edmund, I’m not a leader. None of them even know me. They shouldn’t follow me.”

“I know you.” He bumped her shoulder again, leaning close. “And I will follow you right up to the gates of Dracon if it comes to it.”

She pushed a breath past her lips. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I try so hard not to feel sorry for myself and you come along and make me feel like an idiot.”

“You are an idiot.”

“Gee, thanks.” She stuffed her spoon into her mouth to hide her smile.

Edmund sighed and leaned forward against his knees. “Can I say something without you punching me?”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I think you miss him.”

“Tyson? Yeah, of course I miss him.”

Edmund made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “You know very well that’s not who I mean.”

“I thought it must be, because anyone else would just be absurd.”

“What’s so absurd about it?”

She bit off a bite of fish and chewed to avoid his question. When the curse had first been broken, all her magic felt for Alexandre Durand was a hatred so intense it could’ve burned the sun. But that hadn’t been her. Her magic was born to be at odds with him. What if she’d been born for something else? Could hatred and love for the same person exist inside her together?

Each day, memories of their time together ran on repeat through her mind.

“He’s my enemy,” she finally said.

“Only because of your ancestors and his. The enmity need not be yours.”

“Edmund, do you forget everything he did to me? To you?”

“He had no choice.”

“There is always a choice.”

Edmund’s back shuddered as he released a shaky breath and Etta kicked herself for her words. She might be conflicted about Alex, but Edmund wasn’t and it was killing him to be so far from him.

She rubbed his arm. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

He turned his head to look at her, the side of it resting on his knees. “He went home to war. I’ve always been at his side. For everything. I should be with him.”

“Do you regret staying?” She held her breath, not knowing if she could handle the answer.

“No.” He grabbed her hand. “Not at all. I’m just worried. If something happens to him…”

He didn’t need to finish because she understood. It may have been because of the curse, but she still remembered what it felt like to love a king. To love Alex. Edmund had been in love with him since he was just a teenager and he would probably love him for the rest of his life.

“I’m supposed to protect him,” Edmund breathed.

A familiar urge rose up in Etta. To protect. The need to bathe her sword in blood for no other reason than to guard the life of a royal. She’d been raised to be the protector, her father never imagining she’d get to live any other life. Was that why he named her Persinette? As the only rebellion he’d ever get against La Dame? The Draconian translation for Rapunzel was a sad excuse for a fight but maybe it was all he’d had.

Maybe she wouldn’t know another life. Even now as her old charge fought for the soul of his kingdom, she had to guard her own land.

Maybe wearing the crown was no different from bearing a sword.

Before, she’d been charged with keeping safe the life of one man. Now she had an entire people behind her blade.

And Edmund was right, although she’d never tell him that. She missed Alex. When she’d acted as his protector, she hadn’t also been asked to lead. Could she do both?

“He’s going to be okay,” she finally said.

“You think?” His sad eyes brightened.

Etta got to her feet and held her free hand down to him. “We need to believe it because Gaule is no longer our worry. The time has come for Bela to rise and soon, we’ll have to go to battle ourselves.”

A grin stretched across his face. “That sounded very queenly.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t make me retrieve my sword.”

“Oh, please do. I’d love to show you a thing or two about dueling.”

“Ha, you teach me? Right.”

They dropped their dishes back at the cook fire and Etta headed off to find Henry, a smile still firmly in place.

Chapter Two

“You’re telling me I can’t get into my own palace?” Alex scanned the face of each officer crowded into the tent.

Anders stepped forward. “Essentially, your Majesty, yes.”

“My mother is behind those walls.” His mother and those loyal to her had been betrayed by many of the realms nobles. They now sat trapped within the inner palace with an enemy army at their gates.

They’d made no progress on the walls despite sitting there for days just miles from the palace. Duke Leroy’s forces sat in the valley just outside the gates, allowing the soldiers Alex had drawn together to get no closer without a confrontation.

He scratched his tired face. There’d been little rest since they’d left Bela behind. Beside him stood a man he didn’t recognize instead of the one who should be there. But Edmund hadn’t come.

He’d stayed… with her. No, he refused to dwell on her when his country teetered on the brink of civil war.

As soon as he reached Gaule, Alex had pulled Duchess Moreau’s force from the border. Village militia men and women who were more accustomed to protecting their communities from bandits and breaking up the occasional drunken brawl than marching into battle. And now the Belaen border sat unguarded. But Etta gave her word. They wouldn’t attack.

The Draconian border was unguarded as well, but only because after seeing La Dame’s power first hand, he knew none of them stood a chance if she attacked.

Camped near the palace, they’d found Anders with the royal guard he’d brought to fight the traitors. So, his force consisted of one hundred guardsmen and a band of partially trained civilians. They’d be no match for Leroy’s much larger force. A force that was supposed to be sworn to the crown.

Leroy was the worst kind of counselor. He’d advised Alex’s father on many things prior to the old king’s death. He would rather throw the kingdom into civil war than allow magic folk any freedoms.

Alex tried everything to quiet him. He’d banished him from court. Stripped him of his land’s revenues. Even taken the care of Amalie, his youngest daughter, from his hands.

The steady drum of a horse’s hooves filled the air, stopping just outside the tent. Anders left, returning only moments later with an unkempt man. His eyes darted around the tent wildly before he forced himself into a bow.

“Your Majesty,” Anders started. “Conners has been inside the walls for the past couple of weeks. He has much to tell you.”

“Begin.” Alex narrowed his eyes.

The man straightened and pulled at the ends of his dark hair. “I… I lived in the outer palace. Just one of the guardsman who took shifts at the gate. I didn’t hear any traitorous talk until moments before the attack. I swear.”

“Go on.” Alex nodded, leaning forward.

“Half the guard turned on the queen mother and stormed the dungeons to release the nobles being kept there.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, sire. Lord Leroy took control from there and the other nobles fell in line. They gained the support of the people who lived in the outer palace by decreeing that all those with magic be brought forth and put on trial.”

Alex turned away and paced the length of the tent, his generals scrambling to get out of his way. How had he been so wrong about his people? They hadn’t been ready for the new world he’d thrust upon them.

This was his fault.

“There was cheering, sire.” The man’s voice broke. “The people… they cheered as a man was found guilty of being one of the magic folk and put to death right there in the center of town.”

Alex stopped moving and pinned the young man with a stare, resisting the urge to ask him the question burning in his brain with this many witnesses. If he’d been so wrong about his people, none of them were trustworthy.

“How did you get away?” he asked instead. “How did you get out?”

“Persinette Basile.” His lips curved up. “She created quite the distraction when she left. It allowed a lot of us who didn’t agree with the nobles and their followers to escape to the inner palace where the queen mother is protecting all those who ask for it.”

“How did you get out from the inner palace?”

The man scratched his chin. “I’m not really sure. I volunteered to be the one to go and Amalie Leroy showed me through some tunnel that came out into a cove at the ocean. I walked for a while before I found a horse grazing.”

Alex should have known. Hope knocked into him for the first time since his abduction that seemed so long ago. There were only two tunnels into the palace. One came out along the outer wall facing the forest. He’d used it with Etta to get back into the palace. The other, he’d only heard about. He pushed past Anders and left the tent in search of his brother.

Tyson leaned against a boulder on the edge of camp with a cap pulled down over his eyes and his arms folded across his chest. Alex didn’t want to wake him.

“I can sense you watching me,” he said with a muffled voice. He pushed the cap off his face, revealing eyes that he’d barely been able to look into since leaving Bela. They weren’t his mother’s. They weren’t Durand eyes. They were hers. Peering into the face of his brother was like seeing Etta. How had he never seen it before? It hurt too much, so he looked away.

Tyson watched him with the cold stare he’d perfected since leaving Bela. He may have chosen Alex, but the ill feelings between Alex and Etta tore him apart. If they weren’t resolved, part of Alex worried his brother would never forgive him.

“I need to talk to you.” Alex moved to lean against the boulder. “A man arrived today after escaping the palace and evading Leroy’s forces.”

“You sure he’s not a spy?” Tyson’s distrust stung Alex. There’d been a time when his brother had been open and kind. But that was before he’d had to leave his home to run for his life.

“He says Amalie showed him out through a tunnel.”

That brought the light back to his eyes. “Amalie? Is she okay?”

Alex nodded slowly. “Yes. But I need to know about these tunnels.”

“I tried to tell you about them a long time ago. Back when dad–”

“I know,” Alex cut him off. “And I’m sorry I never listened to you, but right now I need you to tell me if they can get me into the palace.”

Tyson’s shoulders dropped, and he sagged back, his head swinging in a slow arc. “You can get into the tunnels, but the passageway into the palace can only be opened from the inside.”

Everything inside of Alex deflated.

“I’m sorry.”

Alex patted the back of his head. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Alex spun around and slapped his palm against the stone. “Dammit, it’s not. Nothing is okay. Our mother is in there. She’s surrounded by people who want their king’s head and it’s all my blasted fault.”

“Are you whining, brother?” Tyson raised an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

Alex couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He couldn’t tell anything at the moment. All he knew was that the people he loved were trapped, and he had to get them out. He gave in to his brother who was obviously waiting for him to speak. “Then what is my job, oh knowledgeable one?”

“To be king.” Tyson stood. When had he gotten so tall? He’d grown enough to meet Alex’s eyes without tilting his head back. “You have to do what no one else can do. Figure out how to take back your throne and save our mother and Amalie, all while not taking back any of the progress Gaule has made toward accepting Belaens.”

“Easy, right?”

“Noble actions are never easy.”

“Did you learn that one from Edmund?” Alex fell into step beside Tyson.

Tyson ducked his head to hide his sheepish grin. “We spent a lot of time together after we escaped the palace.”

“I wish you hadn’t had to do that.”

“Me too.” He raised his hand in front of Alex’s face and snapped it open.

Alex sputtered as water rose from the ground in a flash and slapped him in the face.

“That was for being a dick to my people for so long.”

Alex wiped his face on his sleeve. “You didn’t even know they were your people.”

“You were still a dick.”

“Yeah.” Alex sighed and pushed damp hair off his forehead. “I guess I was.”

“Still kinda are.” Tyson shot him a final grin but didn’t stick around for Alex’s retort.

Alex shook his head and reentered the tent where his officers continued to confer. They glanced up hopefully. “Sorry, we have to find another way.”

The room deflated and no one spoke until a guard ran in, jostling Alex. His eyes widened.

“My… My king.” He bowed clumsily.

“What is it?” Anders snapped.

The guard turned to him, shrinking back from the general’s large presence. “The scouts spotted riders, sir. A lot of them.”

Alex cursed as Anders took charge, issuing orders to prepare the soldiers for battle.

“Sire,” he said to Alex. “You should stay with the archers.”

His first instinct was to argue, but then common sense kicked in. He was a much better archer than swordsman. His hand shot out, grabbing onto the tunic of a guard nearby. “Prince Tyson was just here. Bring him to me.” The man nodded and hurried away.

There was no way he was letting Tyson near the fight.

A horn sounded from the far side of the valley and riders crested the hill, stretching across the horizon.

“Reinforcements for the duke.” Alex rubbed his jaw. It had to be. Holding his bow aloft, he hurried to the other side of camp where the archers gathered.

“Archers, to me!” he yelled. “Ready your bows.”

Nearby, Anders forced the soldiers into battle lines. Most of them had never been in so much as a fistfight. The royal guardsmen and women stood straight with steely eyes and calm demeanors. The Moreau fighters circled in chaos. Alex pulled his eyes away as a guard shoved Tyson forward.

“Seriously, Alex? I’m a better fighter than three-quarters of those soldiers.”

Alex shoved a bow into his hands. “Today, you’re an archer.”

“I’m an awful archer.”

Alex cuffed him on the back of the head as his eyes scanned the oncoming force. “You’re almost as good as me, Ty, so no more.”

Tyson cursed and rubbed his head but otherwise remained silent as he readied his bow.

Alex had never been in an all-out battle. He didn’t know exactly what to expect. But he was pretty sure they didn’t begin with a single rider galloping forward, a white flag billowing in the breeze.

Alex pressed his bow into Tyson’s free hand. He stepped up next to Anders.

The rider stopped midway between the forces.

“You think it’s a trap?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know, your Majesty.”

The rider slid gracefully from the dappled mare and approached the envoy for Alex’s army. Long silver hair spilled from her helmet as she removed it. A woman. Alex sucked in a breath as her gaze pierced them even at that distance.

“Hello.” The voice was quiet, no more than a whisper.

Alex and Anders both twisted around looking for the source.

“I’m not your enemy.” A musical quality lilted the words.

“It’s her,” Alex said, his eyes widening.

Revulsion flashed across Anders’ face, reminding Alex how his general felt about Belaens. Her magic allowed her to speak across the distance.

“I need to speak with her.” Alex couldn’t explain it. The draw of her magic. Other than Tyson, he hadn’t been around any magic folk since leaving Bela and it had left a hole in his life.

“Come,” her sweet voice said.

“Stand down,” Alex called to his force.

“You can’t go alone,” Anders argued.

“Then send your best soldiers, but you are not coming.” He didn’t need Anders angering the woman with his disdain for her kind.

Tyson ran up beside him and he opened his mouth to tell him to stay put, but then shut it without uttering a word. Tyson had as much right to meet the magic woman as he did. The eagerness on his face spoke volumes. Tyson hadn’t shown much interest in anything since leaving Bela.

Anders handpicked three guards and horses were brought forward. They cantered across the field they’d intended to be a battlefield.

When they reached the armored woman, her eyes caught on Tyson and widened as a smile spread across her face. “You have magic,” she said softly.

“Who are you?” Alex demanded, looking down on her from atop his horse.

Tyson slid down before Alex had a chance to stop him. “You sensed me?”

She shook her head with a laugh. “We’ve all heard the rumors. I was only looking for confirmation.”

Alex scowled at his brother as he jumped down from his horse. “I will not ask you again. Who are you and do you intend to attack?” He scanned her force at the other end of the valley.

She finally turned her piercing gray eyes on him. “It is a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty. Like I said before, I am not your enemy. In fact, we can be of service to you. A messenger reached me saying that my father was trapped inside the royal palace, surrounded by traitors. I thought this must be a lie, but he was supposed to have returned with his wife. The risk was too great not to come.”

“Your father,” he said dumbly.

“Yes, Duke Caron. Recently wed to the princess Camille.”

It suddenly clicked and Alex glanced back at his guards. “Stand down. These are the Caron forces. Thank God.”

“I’m Ara. It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Alexandre Durand. My father always spoke most highly of you.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you.” Did her father know of her magic? He had to. There was no time for Alex to express his surprise as she spoke again.

“So, it’s true then? Gaule is at war?” she asked.

“Call your units to camp next to mine,” Alex said, gesturing to where pointed tents rose up across the valley.

She nodded and spoke softly. Alex couldn’t hear her words, but her lips were moving. Her soldiers started across the valley and she gave him a shrug and vaulted onto her horse. Had they heard her words as he had from afar?

He’d seen a lot of things in his short stint as king. A lot of magic. But he’d never get used to it.

He climbed into his saddle and dug his heels into his horse’s flanks, anxious to tell his men and women that the greatest threat still lay within the palace walls. There’d be no battle this day.

But a battle was coming. No one doubted that.

Chapter Three

As she sat among the trees, Etta dug her knife into the wood once again, carving out as much as she could. She’d seen her father make their sparring poles many times before. They’d been smooth and light. Hers had jagged edges and oddly shaped ends. She was useless for anything that didn’t involve wielding a sword.

Frustration rose within her and she flung her knife at the nearest tree. Even her aim was off and it landed in a pile of dead leaves.

“You know,” Matteo said as his shadow fell over her. “You could use your fancy new Basile magic to do that.”

Edmund appeared next to her and she pushed to her feet. “What would you know about it?”

It was cruel and she shouldn’t have said it. Matteo was the only Basile in generations with no power of his own. He’d grown up thinking he’d one day inherit the Basile curse, but then he’d found out about a cousin born weeks before him. Etta. And that the curse had fallen to her instead.

Etta would gladly give Matteo every ounce of magic she possessed. She didn’t want it.

His expression shifted in sympathy and that worsened her guilt. Matteo struck her as a jerk when they first met, but he soon proved to be more ally than anything else. He’d lived his entire life as a prisoner to an evil woman.

Now that he was free, he’d changed right before her eyes.

Edmund wasn’t as forgiving as a scowl marred his handsome features. “Do you insist on making everyone else around you just as miserable as you are?” He directed the words to Etta.

“Edmund.” Matteo placed a hand on Edmund’s arm and to Etta’s surprise, her friend backed off. “Another ship arrived this morning. We’ll start unloading it after lunch.”

She nodded. “I’ll be there.” Some hard work would be good for her.

Matteo and Edmund locked eyes, seemingly having some silent conversation and then Matteo trudged back the way he’d come.

Edmund continued to stare at her. “You can’t keep doing this, Etta.”

“Doing what?”

“Hiding out. Snapping at people who care about you. One of these days, you’re going to need to step up. If not for me or Matteo, then for your people.”

Not wanting to hear it, she gripped one of the rough staffs she’d made.

Edmund picked up the second one. “Spar with me.” He raised a brow. “I may even let you hit me a time or two.”

“As if you’d have a choice,” she grumbled. “Fine.” She led him to the clearing a short walk away.

“I’m going to cut my hands on this thing you’re calling a staff.”

“I’ve never carved them myself before, give me a break.”

He faced her and winked. Edmund loved throwing people off guard. Winks. Smiles. The grace at which he moved. It didn’t matter if they were men or women.

But Etta had always been immune to his charm. She was determined to beat him. Maybe it was an effect of the way they met, their first battle. They were meant to fight to the death. Those kinds of stakes instilled a singular focus. And each time she fought him, she slipped back into tournament mode. Cold. Calculating. The only objective: winning.

She made the first move and her pole cracked against his as he blocked and stepped back. She attacked again, a series of swift moves. He matched her thrust for thrust. Always her equal. That’s how it was between them. Neither was superior.

Edmund grinned as he advanced forward and all sound faded. His magic. She shook her head. It wouldn’t be a true battle with Edmund if sound entered their arena. He’d used his magic every time he’d face her. Inside their bubble, the only sounds came from the meeting of their poles and the shuffling of their feet.

Etta spun with her leg raised to catch him in the side. He grabbed her foot and pulled, forcing her to twist away.

“You’d actually beat me if you used your magic,” Edmund said, sucking in air.

“Stop.” She jabbed, hoping to catch him off guard.

Edmund was never off guard.

“Are you scared?”

When she didn’t respond, he swung his staff in a wide arc, meeting hers above their heads.

“Persinette Basile doesn’t fear anything,” he said, staring into her eyes.

She twisted away, trying to ignore his words and the expectation in them. They all expected so much from her. Their faith was suffocating.

“What do you have to be scared of? That La Dame will win?”

He blocked another one of her attacks. “That’s it. You don’t think you can beat her. At least not without a little darkness. You think you’ll have to give in to the power, let it control you.”

Etta surged forward, her movements stilted with anger. She swung too wildly, moved her feet too quickly.

“What if you do? Isn’t it worth saving Bela?”

She stood panting as he narrowed his eyes.

“No, you’re afraid you’ll destroy us.”

She charged, jumping into the air and spinning. He knocked her away easily and she went tumbling to the ground. Picking herself up, she threw her pole to one side and charged him again.