Chapter Thirteen

Etta led Vérité into the pen outside the stables and removed his saddle. She walked toward the shelter to hang it, enjoying a temporary reprieve from the dampness outside as she walked the length of the dry stables.

Three horses entered the stables at the opposite end. Catrine rode between two of her guards. She slid down gracefully, not needing or wanting the help of her men. After handing the reins of her horse off to a stable lad, she turned as if she’d known Etta was there all along.

“Queen Persinette.” Catrine dipped her head formally.

Etta hated the distance between them. Once, she’d been trusted by the queen mother. But that was before the magic took hold of her and Bela rejoined the world.

“Queen mother.” Making a quick decision, Etta turned on her heel and walked back to where she’d left Vérité eating from a trough. To her surprise, Catrine followed her into the muddy corral, not even bothering to lift the ends of her thick green skirt.

Etta released a sigh and turned to meet her gaze. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?” She imagined what all Gauleans thought of her and the desire to protect her people within their borders. But as she looked at Catrine, she saw the same burning intensity in her gaze. This was a woman who’d stand for her kingdom until she couldn’t any longer.

And Etta suddenly didn’t want to be looking at the queen mother anymore. She wanted to see the woman her father must have seen.

“Were you and my mother true friends?” Etta’s shoulders tensed, waiting for an answer.

Catrine nodded, sadness etched across her face. “She was the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

“Then how-”

“How could I love her husband?” Emotions warred in the queen’s eyes. “Back then, things were very different for us. My husband was the king, but he was not a good man. He left the palace for months at a time with Viktor at his side. I led Gaule during those years. He made war on the magic folk. It was his one accomplishment. The purge. But the kingdom survived the years of isolation we experienced while the wards were in place because of me and my advisors.”

“That tells me nothing of my mother.” Etta began to turn away.

“No,” Catrine agreed. “But it tells you something of me. I know what you must think of me… of your father.”

“Did you love him?”

“Yes,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “But I wasn’t in love with him. I also loved your mother. Our relationship was… complicated. When we conceived Ty, your mother had left the palace.”

“Left?”

“She never understood why Viktor insisted on serving a cruel king.”

Etta gripped Vérité’s mane. “He never told her of the curse…” She lifted her eyes. “But why? Did my healing powers come from her?” She had to know. Was she the daughter of a Draconian?

Catrine’s eyes pinched in sadness. “No, dear. The healing powers are yet another gift from your father’s line. Your mother was… well, she had no magic.”

Etta stumbled back. Her mother… didn’t have magic? She wasn’t a Belaen?

As if sensing her questions, Catrine continued. “Your mother was from a kingdom across the great sea called Cana.”

Cana. She’d never even heard of it. Her father… why hadn’t he told her any of this?

“I have to go.” She hauled herself onto the horse without bothering to saddle him once again.

“Etta, wait.” Catrine stepped forward tentatively. “I never thanked you for saving Alexandre.”

Etta nudged Vérité around. “Don’t. I don’t want this. The Draconian magic. The Basile power. It’s going to destroy us all.”

She kicked the horse and veered out of the pen, winding her way through the outer palace until she reached the gates she’d blown to pieces. Beyond them, the land opened up.

Her magic burned within her and the control slipped away. If she unleashed it inside the castle, the whole thing would come down.

Today was further proof. Even the villages closest to the king weren’t safe for her people. She had to get them out of Gaule once and for all.

She let the anger bubble to the surface and explode from her hands, swinging them in an arc over her head, shredding the grass surrounding her.

Rain pelted her hair, sizzling on her skin where it met the magic.

Her mother left her father because of the curse and Etta hadn’t known. But she’d come back. That was what mattered, right? Not the fact that she had no power. She’d loved Etta. At least, Etta wanted to believe she had.

She jumped down and left Vérité at a safe distance. She broke into a run, pumping her legs, the wind whipping water in her face. Adrenaline rushed through her as she jumped and released a bit of magic, pushing her farther than humanly possible. She landed in a roll and popped back up. Light flashed from her hands, illuminating the sky as if lightning cracked it open.

A grin stretched across her face, fueled by a need for more. More power. More life. Another way to forget who she was and where she’d come from.

“Etta!” someone called in a faraway voice.

She bent, ready to release the next wave when suddenly the rain stopped hitting her. Snapping out of her trance, she glanced up to see the water bending around her. She whipped her head around, her soaking braid slapping her in the face.

Tyson waited for her, hands on hips, next to Vérité.

Her control continued to slip.

“Leave,” she yelled. He didn’t understand the danger. She couldn’t hold it back. At least Edmund was aware what he was getting into when he practiced with her.

Then another horse appeared. Tyson said something over his shoulder and when Alex appeared, shaking wet hair out of his face, Etta’s control returned with such force she stumbled back.

Confusion warred within her but she shook it off and scanned the land surrounding her. It looked as if a cyclone had come through.

Alex’s eyes widened as he regarded her and she wanted more than anything to see inside his mind.

“We need to talk,” he said finally. “Ruler to ruler.”

She nodded once and crossed the field to where she’d left Vérité.

Once they arrived back in Alex’s rooms, there was a moment when all she wanted was to touch him, feel him, to let him wash away every emotion inside her. They hadn’t gotten close since the night she healed him. It was as if a barrier stood between them now.

Two barriers actually and they were called crowns.

They entered the room and Alex’s guards took up their positions outside. She was thankful no one made her have guards following her back in Bela. She was more powerful than any guard could be so there was no point.

Edmund was waiting for them and Tyson shut the door. It was just the four of them once again. So much had happened to each of them and yet here they were.

Etta slumped down in a chair near the fire, exhaustion tugging at her after the long day. Alex walked behind her, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze before taking a seat. She closed her eyes at his touch.

She opened them as Alex began to speak. “I need to protect my people.”

She nodded. “I do too and that means returning to Bela as soon as I can.”

He swallowed hard and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. “How do I protect a people who won’t let me? How do I keep the most powerful woman in the world from crossing our borders? How do I force them to accept magic when it strikes such fear in them?”

Etta moved off her chair to take the place beside Alex. Her hand hovered over his arm for a moment of hesitation before she touched him. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d felt completely lost. La Dame was coming for her people as well, but at least they had their magic. And they had her.

Bela was being built up while Gaule crumbled into dust.

Her magic jumped at the thought, yearning for its vengeance. But Gaule was no longer their enemy. She held down the simmering power.

The fire reflected in Tyson’s eyes as he regarded them all. “I think I know how to keep Gaule safe.”

Alex drew his brows together and Etta held her breath. She didn’t like the look on her brother’s face.

“Spit it out, Ty,” Edmund said.

Tyson moved toward Etta swiftly and knelt down in front of her. “Etta, you have the Basile power.”

“I am aware,” she replied.

“No, I mean you have all of the Basiles’ power. Isn’t that how it works? All the magic that has existed in our family line is now in you.” His eyes burned into Etta. “O-our… father.”

Understanding slammed into her and she shrank back. Yes. It was so simple. If she could do it, Gaule would be protected. They wouldn’t be driven to the slaughter. There wasn’t anything she could do to keep what was coming from touching her own people, but…

“What am I missing?” Edmund asked.

Alex knew. She saw it in his eyes. The moment when he realized saving his people meant losing her.

She’d come to the conclusion a long time ago that those who loved her would always be taken from her. It had been part of her life since the night her mother died.

Alex, the boy who was used to having what he wanted, had never tasted loss like this.

If she did what Tyson was saying, that was it. The end.

But all she’d ever had were endings.

Alex’s entire body shuddered as he looked at each of them in turn. It wasn’t only her he’d lose. It was all of them.

He cleared his throat. “The wards. Etta may be able to restore her father’s wards.”

“No.” Edmund shook his head. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” He met Etta’s gaze. “You’re really considering this?”

“I don’t know what else to do.” The words burst out of her and she jumped from the couch to pace the room. “Really, Edmund, what the hell do you want from me?”

“Do you even realize what these wards mean?” he asked.

“Of course I do. My father created the original ones.”

“You were a child living in the forest. Alex and I were riding out to border villages with his father’s soldiers. We saw what the wards did to magic folk who tried to cross.”

She put her hands on her head, spinning around to face him. “I’m out of ideas.” Red crept up her neck as she tried to hold back the anger her magic had burning within her.

Edmund crossed the distance between them and grabbed her arms. “Hey, calm down. Breathe.” He breathed deeply as if to demonstrate and she closed her eyes. “Etta, control it. Don’t let it take over.”

She focused on his hands folded around hers. On the sounds of his breath. The magic shrank back, and she opened her eyes to look into Edmund’s face. He’d done that for her more times than she could count.

Alex and Tyson watched them silently, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

“Are you…” Tyson began. “Are you okay?”

Etta collapsed back onto the couch. What was she supposed to tell them? No, she wasn’t okay. She walked around constantly on the verge of exploding.

Alex scooted closer and put an arm around her. She sank into his side, the calm beat of his heart calming her frantic one. “Did I scare you?”

Both Alex and Tyson shook their heads emphatically.

Edmund laughed. “Of course you did.”

Three sets of eyes shot daggers his way, and he put up his hands in defense.

Ignoring Edmund, Alex asked the question they should have begun with. “How do we know La Dame wouldn’t be able to find a way through the wards?”

Etta lifted her head to look up at him. “She never broke my father’s wards, and he didn’t have the strength of the Basile power. We have to at least try.”

He sighed, his breath ruffling her hair. “I know.”

Edmund slumped in defeat and Tyson picked himself up off the floor.

Etta pulled herself away from Alex’s warmth. “I need some dry clothes and a drink. Have your people make preparations. Send riders to every village with notices that all magic folk planning to leave for Bela must do so within a fortnight.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I know. I hate it as much as you. We’re forcing all magic folk from Gaule. I never wanted it to come to this.”

“They’re safer in Bela.”

He gripped her hand. “That doesn’t make it right.”

She ran her fingers along his cheek. “But at least they’ll be alive. And Gaule will be safe.”

She returned to her rooms and changed out of her sopping clothes, setting them to dry by the fire.

A platter of food had been left with an overgenerous pitcher of wine. She poured herself a drink and sighed before sitting in the large wing-backed chair next to her own roaring fire, trying to feel more than she did.

She still loved Alex. That hadn’t changed just because of the magic. But the love was clouded in doubt and duty. Nothing was clear to her anymore. It was as if her heart loved him, but her head was incapable.

Would she ever be able to be more than the power inside of her?

It latched on to everything she was, twisting it and hardening it.

She drained her wine and rose to fill the cup again.

After a while, there was a knock on her door. She opened it to find Alex. Before letting the doubts and coldness fill her, she set her cup down and kissed him.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

She didn’t have any words for him so she pulled him back to her and walked backward into the room.

“I love you.” His voice vibrated against her lips.

She pushed away from him violently without meaning to. Her body betrayed her, giving itself over to the magic brewing inside.

“No more talking,” she said roughly. “Not tonight.”

He grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking away from him and she rushed forward, slamming him against the closed door, wanting to destroy him the way the magic destroyed her.

He didn’t recoil in fear as she expected. That, she could have lived with. He’d have been right to be frightened. But instead, heat blazed in his eyes. His strong hands wrapped around her upper arms and he yanked her against him.

They crashed back against the door once more before he spun and pressed her up against the solid wood.

“Let it out,” he said. “I can take it.”

He didn’t know what he was asking. If she unleashed everything she was feeling… no, he couldn’t take that.

“You’re not strong enough for that.” It wasn’t meant as an insult, just a statement of fact.

“Maybe not, but I’d take it, anyway.”

He took her lips as if he owned them. She took his as if it was the only thing left to do. Her magic churned unhappily, but she ignored its distaste, using it to fuel her every action.

She wanted to love Alex. More than anything. And she did, she thought. But thinking something was not the same as feeling it.

And that part of her was blocked.

For now, she’d give him what she could.

Soon, there’d be nothing left for either of them to hold on to.

In sleep, Etta looked like the queen she was. Her hair was splayed across the pillow, its brilliant golden strands catching the sun as it streamed through the window.

It was when she woke that she was the girl who’d beaten all of Gaule’s best soldiers in the tournament. She’d killed them without a second thought. If Alex hadn’t seen for himself what she could do, he wouldn’t believe it.

He studied her still features. Nothing about her was fragile, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was constantly on the verge of breaking. One moment she’d be comforting a Belaen family and the next she was shaking with rage.

None of it made any sense.

He didn’t remember that side of her from before.

Her eyelids shifted and a moment later fluttered open. She stared up at him as the cloud of sleep faded from her eyes. Her brow scrunched as her face hardened. He sighed. Some things would never change.

Etta had never truly accepted what lay between them. Before, it was because she worried the curse drew her to him and none of it was real. When the curse was replaced by her family’s magic, it became something else, something he couldn’t even begin to understand.

He reached out to tuck a tuft of hair behind her ear but then thought better of it and let his hand drop as he moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over.

Clearing his throat, he slipped into king mode. “Riders were sent out last night. All Belaens in Gaule will soon know of the coming wards. I expect you’ll have many new arrivals in Bela.”

“Alex.” She hesitated. “Thank you.”

He grunted and got to his feet. Of course, she was only thanking him for aiding her people. It was always about them. For just one moment, he wished she’d ask something for herself.

Etta asked if he feared her and the answer was yes, but not for the reasons she thought. He never believed she’d hurt him—physically at least. But the thing that scared him most was the knowledge that Etta would sacrifice herself for her people without a second thought.

It was what a ruler should do, but she was reckless about it.

If Etta died, everything inside him would die as well.

He slipped into his own room to wash and change before stepping back out into the hall. His guards followed at a close distance as he left to find Edmund. His friend was with Tyson in the main hall breaking their fast.

Climbing onto the wooden bench, Alex leaned forward and rested his forehead against the rough grain of the oak table.

“How much did you drink last night?” Edmund asked with a laugh.

“Nothing.”

“Ah.” He shared a glance with Tyson. “You’re just queen drunk then.”

He lifted his head to glare at his friend.

Tyson eyed him. “Okay, I don’t want to know about my brother and sister’s… ugh… relationship.”

Alex groaned. “Stop saying it like that, asshole.”

“How else am I supposed to talk when my brother is in love with my sister?”

Alex swatted him upside the head.

Tyson laughed and rubbed the spot Alex hit.

“Just don’t say that to Etta.” Edmund chuckled lowly. “Although, I’d pay to see her beat your ass.”

Tyson shrugged. “I did say it. After I found out Viktor was my father.”

“Yeah, but that was before.” Edmund shook his head.

“Before what?” Alex asked.

Tyson leaned in curiously.

Edmund’s face pinched as if he’d said something he shouldn’t. “Just… Etta is different.”

“Obviously.” Tyson puffed out his chest. “She missed her brother.”

Edmund threw a hunk of bread at his head and he ducked out of the way. Alex laughed at them, but something pinched in his gut. Tyson was joking about the reason for Etta’s moods but that didn’t change the fact that he would miss his brother. He assumed Tyson was going back with them. Gaule was no longer his home.

Plus, Ty could never miss a battle. He’d returned to Gaule to fight the rebellion and now he was going to be a part of a fight much larger than that.

Alex would be able to cross the wards since he had no magic in his blood. He could see his brother. But only if there was something left after they faced La Dame.

It killed him that Gaule would be closed off, safe but unable to help.

A shadow loomed over the table and Alex lifted his eyes to Simon’s large frame.

“Your Majesty,” Simon said stoically. “May I have a word?”

Alex pushed up from the table. “Of course. I have to meet the duchess in the council chamber, walk with me.”

The first part of their walk was silent, but then the words tumbled out of Simon.

“I would like to ask your permission to remain in Gaule.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I have to admit, this surprises me. You understand what’s going to happen? Etta will erect the wards and you will not be able to cross.”

“I understand, sire.”

“Can I ask you why, Simon? I’ve seen you with your queen. You’re as fervently loyal as any Belaen and yet you do not wish to follow her?”

Simon’s steps faltered, and he didn’t speak for a long moment. “I have come to realize, your Majesty, that a man can have more than one queen. I am loyal to Persinette Basile and to my people, but my honor would not let me leave my charge here in Gaule.”

“My mother.” Alex nodded. “So, your loyalty is split?”

“I do not see it as so, sire. Loyalty, just like love, is not something we have in finite amounts. My loyalty is not cut in half to account for both queens. It is expanded to encompass the faith I have with each.”

“Then how do you choose?” His mind went to Etta. He loved her more than anything with one exception. Gaule. He’d always love his kingdom and the people in it.

“Your mother depends on my loyalty,” he answered. “Yes, Persinette could use me in the battle to come, but she does not truly need me.”

Alex sighed. Persinette Basile never needed anyone.

They reached the council chambers and Simon left to return to his post at the dowager queen’s side. Alex stepped inside to prepare for their journey to the border and the events that would come after.