"I sort of expected to see someone come after us by now." Etta winced as she bent to tie the laces of her boots.
Edmund glanced up from where he'd been scrubbing at his skin. Tyson created a warm pool of water for him and he was beginning to look like himself now that much of the grime was gone. "Don't jinx us, dear Persinette."
Etta straightened and turned to tighten the straps of Vérité's saddle. "Don't call me that."
"It's your name." His eyes narrowed as he reached back to tie his now wet hair away from his face. Thick blonde hair still covered his cheeks, but underneath it all, he was Edmund, the first person who had befriended her at the palace. Her partner in turning the tournament on its head, and in keeping Alex safe.
Etta lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I haven't been that girl in a long time."
"But you are she. Whether you've changed or not. Whatever people call you. You are Persinette, daughter of Viktor Basile."
She flinched at her father's name. "The man who killed your king." She was thankful for her father's actions, but she knew he'd go down in history as nothing more than a king slayer.
Edmund got to his feet, still moving slowly in his weakened state. He crossed the distance between them until he was right in front of her. "No," he said lowly. "The man who protected our people."
She remained frozen as he walked by. Our people. It'd been so long since she had been around anyone that knew the truth. They shared a connection, and it eased some of the pain she was still feeling.
Tyson bounced toward them. "So, are we going to ignore the fact that Etta is the only living descendent of the royal line of Bela?"
It took everything she had to keep her voice steady. "It means nothing to be heir to a country that no longer exists."
A grin brightened his face. "See, that's where you’re wrong. It does exist. Bela itself may be unoccupied, but aren't all of us magic folk descendants of Bela?"
"Or Dracon," she said grimly.
"My mother told me I'm Belaen." He stopped moving and dropped to one knee.
"What are you doing?"
Edmund stood behind Tyson, shaking with laughter.
Tyson only smirked. "You're my queen. What do you think I'm doing?"
"Tyson, a prince of Gaule doesn't kneel to anyone."
He spread his arms. "Then it's a good thing I'm not really a prince of Gaule."
Etta clutched her chest as another tremor hit her. Tyson jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Stop asking me that. The answer isn't going to change." She walked toward the horses. "We should get moving."
Edmund was able to pull himself up this time. He'd grown stronger as she'd weakened. She barely managed to climb on behind him and then they were off.
They reached the farming district around noon and Etta was consumed by thoughts of Alex.
“Can you tell me about it?” Tyson asked her. “About magic.”
“What do you want to know?” She winced from the pain.
“Everything. I’ve never talked to anyone who had it before.”
She forced a smile though she felt as if her insides were being ripped to shreds. Tyson truly was an innocent in all of this. She supposed she had been too when her father explained it to her. She tried to recall his words. “No two people’s power manifests the same way. Some may seem similar, but there are always little differences.” She thought for a moment as he nodded eagerly.
Edmund jumped in before she could continue. “Most people’s power is quite weak actually.”
Etta nodded. “Some have the ability to do great things, but most can’t. That’s why it’s foolish for the people of Gaule to fear all magic. Take Edmund for example. The most he can do is push sounds on the wind or give you a slight breeze.” She pinched his side in jest.
He took the bait. “And Etta here can annoy you by making the weeds in your gardens grow.”
She laughed. “I seem to recall being able to trap you with my ‘weeds’ when we first met.”
He shrugged. “You got lucky. I wasn’t expecting the thief I was chasing to have magic. I would have beat you without it.”
“Like you bested me in the tournament?”
Tyson howled in laughter. “She kicked your ass.”
“Barely,” Edmund grumbled.
Etta laughed. “If you’d like, I can go drop you back in that dungeon.”
He twisted in his saddle to shoot her a grin. “Not a chance. I’ve heard the legends of what the last Basile descendant is supposed to be able to do and I’m not going to miss the show.”
“What will she do?” Tyson asked.
Edmund shot her a wink. “They have a power that can do battle with La Dame. That’s why I never considered Etta could be Persinette.” He lifted one shoulder. “Unless she plans to tie her up in weeds and hit her over the head with a tree branch or something.”
His back shook with laughter. Etta dug her fingers into his side and hid her own smile.
As they skirted the edge of a rural town, the noise they'd been dreading reached them. Horses. Many of them. They thundered down the road. Edmund kicked Vérité as Etta looked back.
"I count six," she yelled.
"Think we can outrun them?" he called back.
"Normally, I'd say Vérité could outrun anyone."
"But ..."
"He's carrying a double load."
Etta reached behind her and pulled her sword free. Her weakened hand could barely hold onto it. Vérité lurched forward, and she swayed in the saddle.
"Don't let go," Edmund yelled. "Promise me, Etta. We're in this together." She didn't respond. Instead, she looked to Tyson. As the soldiers grew closer, he jerked his hand back to shoot water into the horse’s eyes, but his aim was off.
Etta held out her hand, feeling her magic begging to burst free. It crackled but then fizzled out.
"Dammit!" she yelled.
One of the guards raised a bow and fired. Tyson dodged the arrow deftly.
Edmund tried to whip up the air to prevent arrows from reaching them, but his magic failed him as well.
They were close. So close. If they reached Duchess Moreau’s lands, she’d protect them. That was what Catrine told her.
Another arrow narrowly missed Vérité's flank. That was it. She knew what she had to do. She leaned in as close as she could to Edmund. "Get the boy to safety."
Edmund yelled a protest, but she didn't hear him as she threw herself from the horse, landing with such force, it knocked her out for a brief moment.
When she opened her eyes, everything hurt. She could barely lift her head to see Edmund and Tyson hesitating. "Go," she croaked. They couldn't have heard her, but they did as she wanted, leaving her in the dirt, surrounded by Gaule soldiers.
The soldiers let Edmund and Tyson go, a fact she found odd, until one walked forward and sneered down at her. "Hello, king slayer’s daughter. You are under arrest by order of the crown."
Her head hit the ground with a thunk as she let it drop. They knew who she was.
"Are you going to kill me?" She had to know. If they killed her, Alex would die as well.
"We have orders to bring you in alive."
She was hauled over someone's shoulder and then draped across the back of a horse. None of it mattered to her as relief rushed through her veins. She was going back a prisoner, but at least the pain would end.
A thick fist flashed in front of her face before darkness overwhelmed her.
Etta came to as they rode past the outer gates of the castle. How long had she been asleep? Days, most likely. Her stomach attested to that fact as it lurched from emptiness.
The pain had faded away now that she was close to the king once more, but it left her weak still.
As her eyes took stock of the goings on inside the castle walls, she realized nothing had changed. But her whole world was now different. She didn't come through those gates as the king's protector. She came through as a prisoner, an enemy.
People threw jeers at her as they passed.
The once friendly faces were now twisted in rage.
None of it mattered to her. She'd lost. She hadn't broken the curse as she'd promised her father and now she'd never get the chance. Their family line ended with her.
But then, that meant so did the curse.
Etta raised her eyes as best she could as they neared the inner gates. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and sweat began to bead across her brow as she took in the sight. The king awaited them, surrounded by his personal guard. They stood in formation around him as if they feared she'd make an attempt to harm him.
They didn't know she was too weak to use her magic.
They didn't know how intertwined their lives were. That hurting him would hurt her. That she loved him.
All they knew was that she was a Basile and a descendant of Bela. That was enough for them.
Her eyes drank in the sight of Alex. After these long days of pain, the curse no longer burned through her. It rejoiced at their nearness, like it was a living thing.
Alex stood tall, but as they neared, she noticed the pallor of his skin, the half-moon circles under his eyes. He'd been feeling it just as she had. His crown sat straight on his head, but it shifted as his body lurched forward involuntarily. He covered up the movement with a cough, but she'd seen.
Her cracked lips parted as she was dragged down from the horse and dropped to the ground. They tried to form his name, but only air escaped her.
The guards shifted as the king moved forward. A guard behind her grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back so she was staring directly into the king's hard eyes. He had no smiles for her, or words of comfort. He bent to push up the leg of her loose pants, his hands searing into her. When they grazed the jagged scar, he ripped them away.
Breathing heavily for a moment, he glowered down at her, betrayal in his eyes. "Let the girl have her father, it's her. It's Persinette Basile."
And that was when she knew. She'd been given up, traded. Maiya.
The anger appeared in a flash before it was gone. Maiya did it for her father. At that moment, Etta probably would've done anything to have her father back as well.
That wasn't the betrayal that mattered.
Alex knew who she was. He knew she'd been lying even as she shared his bed.
A sob escaped her. "Alex."
He shook his head and bent to look directly into her eyes. "I am your king. Speak to me as such."
As he continued to look at her, uncertainty and something she almost mistook for sympathy entered his gaze. But love? That was gone.
He wiped a hand across his face and she watched his heart breaking in two, feeling the same pain in her chest.
"Etta," he whispered so softly she almost didn't hear it. Then, as if he hadn't said it, he straightened and pulled his cloak around him.
A drop of water hit her face as rain fell like the tears she refused to cry. The king and his men turned and marched toward the dry palace.
Etta managed to push herself off the ground. As she stood, she lifted her face to the sky, letting the rain wash away her regrets.
A guard wrapped his meaty hand around her arm as another followed. They pushed her toward the stairs that would take her to the dungeons, her new prison. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, holding her head high against the oncoming captivity.
For she was Persinette Basile. Daughter of the king-slayer. Descendant of Bela. Heir to the Belaen throne. She was cursed, and the cursed always had greater battles to wage.
Find out what punishment Alex has for Etta in Golden Chains next! Keep on reading!