Pierre hovered over her father when Etta arrived. He'd collapsed near a crop of trees on the far side of the arena. People stopped to gawk, but Pierre held them back.
Etta crashed to her knees as her father tried to lift his head.
"Persinette," he whispered.
She leaned closer and took his hand. "I'm here, Father."
"Persinette, the King knew of your magic." He let his head fall back. "I was cursed to protect him, but I chose. You can choose. Protecting you was more important."
Etta's gaze snagged on the familiar bow laying nearby. She looked back to her father, shaking her head as tears poured down her cheeks. No blood stained his skin, but in the same spot where he'd shot the king, Viktor’s skin glowed red.
Etta put a hand on her father's chest and bent her head. "Your curse is broken now, Father."
He smiled weakly.
"Etta." Maiya appeared at her side. "The prince comes."
"Find another way to break your curse, Persinette." Her father heaved a wet sigh. "I was wrong. You can’t live your life chained to them. You’ve always been meant for more." They were the words she'd longed to hear during their many hours of training. She'd wanted to know he believed in her. Only at the end could he truly see.
As the guard's footsteps came closer, Etta scrambled to her feet and wiped her face. Prince Alexandre's guards pushed through the crowd and then he was there with Edmund at his side.
Alex took in the sight of her father and his eyes widened.
Her father stared back at the prince.
"Viktor Basile," Alex said under his breath as if his name were a curse.
His red eyes were the only indication that his father had just died.
Alex stepped closer before turning to look at Etta. "Already doing good work for me, Etta. I see you found my father's killer."
"I am sorry for your loss, Your Highness." Etta stepped back and lowered her head to hide her tears.
To her surprise, Alex crouched down next to her father and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's been a long time, Viktor."
Bile rose in Etta's throat. She wanted to demand the prince stop touching him. It wasn't his right. The Durands ruined her family, killed her mother, and now even took her father.
And yet, they still held the noose around her neck. They just didn't know it.
Alex didn't ask Viktor why he did it. He knew. They all did. Viktor Basile was the man who'd protected them from La Dame and been hunted as a reward. He'd been the king's greatest friend turned most horrifying nightmare.
"Is the king dead?" Etta's father asked, his voice fading.
Alex nodded.
He closed his eyes. "Then I am free."
His body shuddered as he took one final breath and then went still.
Alex bowed his head, and a cry broke free of Etta. She stumbled forward as the ground beneath her feet began to shake. A groan tore through the earth. Townsfolk began to run as the hastily built arena nearby broke apart and crumbled.
The guards shoved Alex ahead and his eyes darted around frantically as Etta watched the world fall apart around them.
"Camille!" Alex yelled.
Edmund grabbed Etta’s arm, jolting her from her frozen state.
Camille limped over. "What's happening?"
Etta reached out with her magic, letting it course through her body. Her magic forged a connection between herself and the natural world around her. She could feel the pain of the earth. The way the ground ripped apart, shrieking in agony at the death of her father. And then it struck her. Eyes flashing open wide, she gasped. “The wards!” She dodged a rock surging toward her head. "They're coming down!"
Understanding dawned in Edmund's eyes. A person's magic died with them. If Viktor Basile was dead, his magic couldn't hold the wards. If the wards were gone, there was no protection against La Dame.
Etta searched frantically for Maiya and Pierre, but they were nowhere to be found.
“You’re coming with us,” Alex said, taking his frightened horse from a guard.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She fell back.
“Etta.” She jumped at Edmund’s touch. “You won the tournament. Your place is at the palace now.”
Her eyes flicked to her father’s still form, and she held back the tears that built in her eyes. If her connection to Viktor Basile was known… she shook her head. Her father killed the king.
She searched Alex’s face for any sign of his own distress. She may hate the Durands, but she wasn’t heartless.
He looked too stunned to process it.
Edmund flung out a jolt of calming wind to the horses, noticeable only to Etta. He climbed on behind Camille. Alex mounted his horse extended a hand down to Etta. She didn't have time to think before she accepted the help and wrapped her arms around his waist.
They rode as fast as the horses could take them. The guards were left behind to try to find and calm the remaining horses.
Tents collapsed in on themselves as they galloped by. Panicked people ran to avoid the falling structures. The ride to the palace was a thunderous pursuit of hooves and fallen debris. The gates stood open when they arrived and they raced through. They didn’t slow as they passed through the outer castle and bypassed the stables entirely, making for the inner palace gate instead. Once inside the courtyard, the rumbling began to calm, and the ground stopped shaking.
Etta bent over to catch her breath and they slid from their horses.
Camille paced back and forth, her cane echoing across the stone courtyard. She stopped every few feet to shoot a glare at Etta.
"We should get inside," Edmund said softly.
Neither of the royal children responded, stunned as they were by the day’s events.
Tyson came barreling across the courtyard. "What's going on? Are you okay?" He caught sight of Etta. "You won? I knew you would. I bet on it with a few of my guards."
Edmund cleared his throat and Tyson turned his way.
"Edmund." He beamed, walking forward to slap him on the back. "I didn't mean that I wanted her to beat you ... wait, how are you both here?"
"Father is dead," Camille wailed suddenly. She pointed one long finger at Etta. "And it's all her fault." She stomped inside, leaving the rest of them in shock.
Alex’s eyes clouded with anger and he set his jaw.
“Alex?” Tyson asked.
“Father is dead.” He turned to his brother. “But make no mistake, it was no one’s fault but his own and now Gaule is once again at the mercy of magic.”
Tyson opened his mouth in question and then shut it.
“Did you feel it?” Edmund asked. “The wards are gone.”
Alex shook his head and walked up the steps as a host of guards and servants descended upon him. He waved them off, but they wouldn’t be deterred. “I’m fine,” he bellowed, marching past them.
They turned their attention to Tyson, ignoring Etta and Edmund entirely. The young prince didn’t cry, although he looked like he wanted to. The boy who was known for his easy smile and bright eyes had dulled.
With the wards now gone, Etta wondered what the coming months would take from all of them.
She was luckier than most. She had nothing left to lose.
"What do you mean the wards are gone?" The portly Lord Leroy yelled, his voice echoing around the council chamber. The room was purely ornamental since no council had been in use in the years of protection under the wards. But Lord Leroy held a high status with Alexandre's father. He was already trying to exert his influence with the new king.
Duchess Moreau put a hand on his shoulder to calm his pacing and turned to the prince who would soon be a prince no more.
"Your Highness." Warmth flowed from her voice. "Are you certain?"
Alexandre's father's voice filtered through his mind. One of his many lessons. Never trust the Moreaus. The Duchess will manipulate your sword straight through your back.
Gaule had a long tradition of keeping enemies close to the crown, but he had trouble seeing her as an enemy. The Moreaus controlled vast swaths of lands and towns near the border. The Moreaus had a long history of protecting magic folk. That in itself was a good enough reason not to trust them, but there were so few people he could trust. He shook her hand off his arm and stepped back to gain some distance.
Alex glanced around the cavernous room. It was a good place to have private conversations with advisers, but it only made him feel inadequate for the position he was now forced to take. It should have been his father dealing with broken wards and advisers.
A week had passed since that sickening moment in the arena when his father crumpled to the ground as if he wasn't the most powerful man in Gaule.
Then again, maybe he wasn't. Not when Viktor Basile lived.
Now they were both dead. Gone.
And he had a kingdom to run.
"I've sent an exploratory force to the border to see about the wards. That’s why I haven’t called on you until now. The unit I sent was due back yesterday." The prince scrubbed a hand across his face. "There was substantial damage from the quakes. I've put a few units to work in town to make repairs. I've sent others to the towns farther out from the palace to see how they have fared as well." He turned toward the door. "Now, you are informed and I must see about finding my men."
He turned to go but Lord Leroy called him back. "Your majesty, we must plan a coronation."
Alex sighed. He knew the duke was right. "My father is not even in the ground. Coronate me if you must, but no ceremony."
No one argued.
"And your protector?"
"What about her?" he snapped.
"She won the tournament, but it was non-binding. There has been no ceremony yet. With your father now ..."
"Dead?"
"Yes, well, you could choose a protector who projects a certain image. A certain strength."
He narrowed his eyes. "And with him gone, I could also choose an adviser with half a brain."
Lord Leroy reeled back.
"I am not legally bound to accept Etta as my protector, but she has won the tournament. I will not tarnish my honor or that of this crown by lowering the worth of my father's word. If the position is symbolic, let it symbolize the strength of our character. Besides, she bested some of our most accomplished men in combat. I'd say she's more than capable."
He walked from the room with heavy steps. He couldn't remember the last time he slept or ate, but there were more pressing matters. Edmund and his men were missing. He'd sent them to the border the day following the quakes and expected them back yesterday.
If this worry was what it meant to be king, he wished he'd been born a pauper.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he knew it wasn't right. His entire life, all he'd wanted to do was protect his people. He'd been raised to think that meant keeping magic from their lands, but if the wards were gone, only magic could replace them. He wouldn't know where to start.
Captain Anders fell in step beside him, giving a slight incline of his head.
"Do you have to follow me?" Alex asked tiredly.
"Sire, I know you had your own guards who gave you more ... space before, but you are to be king now and must be guarded more closely."
"By the captain of the guard?" He raised an eyebrow.
Anders grunted, a scowl crossing his face. It wasn't what he wanted to be doing, but he'd do his duty. Anders was good for that. As long as you didn't try to get a conversation out of him and could live on snarls, he'd do. It wasn’t like Alex minded. He hadn't been one for talking in the past week.
"I’ll have a personal guard selected by week’s end, assuming Edmund returns by then."
"No. My son is not suited to guard the king. You have more tested soldiers to consider."
Alex stopped abruptly and turned toward the tall man. His broad shoulders and blond hair were the only things he had in common with his son. He raised Edmund on his own, but where Edmund was quick to smile, Anders was eternally sour. Anders rose through the ranks, gaining the trust of Alex's father, but maybe it was time for the captain of the guard to be a man Alex trusted.
"Captain," Alex said coldly. "Your battle-tested men failed my father."
Anders' face blanched.
Alex held up a hand. "I do not hold them to account. But the next time you try to give me an order, you will find yourself with no men to lead."
Was any of it going to get any easier? He started walking without waiting for an answer. Anders followed without a word, his heavy steps sounding against the stones beneath his feet.
Before he knew it, Alex found himself heading toward Etta's room. His steps faltered. He hadn't been able to face her since arriving back at the palace. Officially, he'd been too busy. Unofficially, she barely knew him and had been the one person who seemed to see straight through his facade. Unable to deal with more changes, he'd given the task of her well-being to Camille, but she was to be his protector and it was time he looked her in the eye. As protector, she might have no real role, but she'd be with him always. The thought soothed him. Maybe that was the point of a protector—so the king didn't have to be so alone in ruling.
"Was it really Viktor?" Anders asked.
Alex hid is surprise at the blunt question. He'd almost forgotten Anders was there.
When Alex nodded, Anders' eyes darkened. "That man was dangerous from the first time he set foot in this palace. I told your father that many times, but ..." He shook his head.
"But the man was his closest friend." Alex gave him an icy look. He wanted to despise the man who killed his father, but part of him remembered the Viktor who tried to teach him how to wield a sword. He'd spent more time with Viktor and his daughter than he had with his own father.
"Evil is what he was. He had the magic."
Alex couldn't disagree with that sentiment. None of them were safe when magic ran rampant in the kingdom.
Geoff was sitting outside Etta's door, dozing off, when they arrived. Anders stopped in front of him and kicked at his legs. Geoff awoke with a start.
"What are you doing here, Geoff?" Alex asked.
Geoff wasn't quick enough to hide his scowl. He hadn't forgiven Alex and Tyson for knocking him out before the tournament.
"The princess put me here," he snarled. "I'm to keep anyone from going in or out."
"My God, man." Alex shoved him aside. "You mean to tell me we've been keeping her locked in her rooms?"
"Princess Camille's orders." He shrugged.
"Go back to my sister and tell her I demand her presence in the throne room first thing in the morning." He paid no more attention to the guard as he knocked on the door.
"I told you, I'm not hungry," an angry voice yelled from inside.
"Etta, it is Prince Alexandre. May I come in?"
"No."
"Please. I must speak to you."
He heard her stomp across the room moments before the door cracked open. "Come to check on my prison cell, Your Highness?"
Her eyes were red as if she'd been crying, but all tears were dry as her pupils blazed when she met his gaze. She shifted her eyes to the guard and scanned Anders from head to toe.
He stared with open distaste.
He didn't know why, but it caused Alex's anger to rise.
"Anders," he snapped. "Show your respect to the woman who saved your son's life."
Anders' jaw clenched as he bent at the waist for the slightest of bows. Alex pushed down his irritation. It wouldn't do to make an enemy of the captain of the guard.
"Your son would be ...?" Etta asked.
"Edmund." Alex scratched his cheek.
Etta's cheeks reddened. "Oh."
Oh? What the hell did that even mean? Did their kiss mean more than Alex thought? He'd had his reasons for believing it to be a ruse. But then what was Edmund doing there that day?
"Anders," Alex ordered. "Leave us."
"But, Your Highness ..."
"My new protector is not going to kill me. Out."
The door thudded behind him, locking them in a silent stand-off. Etta's eyes flitted around the room, anywhere but at him. She turned and walked back to busy herself straightening the blankets on the bed in the center of the room. Directly next to her, silver moonlight streamed in through a three paned window, framed in gold. The moonlight illuminated her strong features.
"I didn't order you to be locked in here," he finally said.
She didn't look at him. "Does it matter who gave the order? I'm still a prisoner."
"You're not." He stepped toward her. "I promise."
"Your promises mean nothing to me."
She sniffled and sat on the edge of her bed.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Am I okay?" A laugh pushed past her lips, but it sounded wrong somehow. "What does that mean? Are any of us okay? Your father just died, thrusting you onto the throne. You're not okay, but you must look like you are." She rested her elbows on her knees. "I ... lost someone close to me recently and I have no way to mourn him. My hands have been bathed in blood on the command of the crown I now must serve." She finally met his stare. "Have you ever killed anyone, Prince?"
When he shook his head, she continued. "No, you wouldn't have. You give the order for people to die, but you never have to feel their life seep out. For a moment it feels good. There's a kind of power in taking a life. But that power comes at a cost. Each kill breaks apart the soul."
She gestured to the door. "That man out there would have lost his son if I'd have obeyed your father. So, your Highness, I will serve you. I’ll give my soul. But if you ever again ask me if I'm okay, I'll break that pretty face of yours."