Golden Crown Page 10

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered. “Everything is so wrong.”

  Etta wound her arms around his back. They may not have been raised together, but Tyson was her brother and she’d missed him every day.

  “I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “Camille had you put here without me or mother knowing.”

  Etta glared at the princess over Tyson’s shoulder.

  Camille held her hands in front of her chest. “What was I supposed to do? She blew apart our gates! For all I knew, we were being attacked.”

  Tyson pulled back and shot Camille a frigid look before regarding Etta with a quizzical frown. “We have so many questions for you. Why did you attack? Why were Liza Leroy and Lord Hinton with you? Why won’t they wake up? Why are you even here in Gaule?”

  Etta breathed deeply and Edmund put a hand on Tyson’s shoulder. “If we can get out of the dungeons, we’ll explain. Maybe the king and the queen mother should join us?”

  Tyson’s face fell, and he shook his head. “They won’t. But I’ll send for the duchess. Come.”

  They ascended the stairs and Tyson fell into step beside Etta as they walked across the familiar courtyard. Etta still knew this place better than her own kingdom.

  “Where’s—” she began but Tyson answered before she could finish.

  “Vérité is in his old stall. He’ll be taken care of.”

  Etta nodded gratefully. “And—”

  “Liza and the Hintons are being kept under guard near Lord Leroy. They are not trusted in the palace.”

  She squeezed his arm.

  “I missed you,” he said in that open way he’d always had.

  She smiled in spite of the circumstances and looped her arm through his. Camille let out a disgusted snort behind them.

  Tyson leaned in. “I always knew you’d be our queen.”

  Our. She hadn’t imagined it. He’d said our and that single word infused hope into her. When Tyson had chosen Alex, he’d taken a piece of Etta with him. Our. Tyson considered Bela his kingdom. Etta hid a smile behind her hand.

  “I missed you too,” she whispered.

  His face lit up at her words, the stress lines smoothing out.

  “I can’t believe you destroyed our gates.”

  “I’m sorry.” How could she tell him she hadn’t meant to? That in those moments, the magic controlled her instead of the other way around? Would he fear her too?

  It turned out, there was no time to explain before another familiar face greeted her.

  “Simon.” She nodded with a smile.

  He immediately dropped into a bow. “My queen.” When he lifted his head, love and admiration resided in his gaze and it warmed her. “Welcome to Gaule.”

  She gripped his arm and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  More people waited inside the council chamber and Etta recognized most of them, but they weren’t Belaen. To them, she was just a foreign queen, and it was a bit of a relief. Magic folk looked at her as if she were their savior.

  Duchess Moreau was the first to greet them, offering familiar hugs. Duke Caron bowed formally. A young woman sat in the back of the room, her wide eyes piercing into Etta. Etta liked her the minute their eyes connected. The woman’s gaze flooded with warmth.

  “It’s nice to meet you, your Majesty,” a voice whispered.

  Etta whipped her head around trying to find the source. The woman laughed and Etta stared at her once again, the corner of her mouth tilting up.

  Duke Caron stepped forward. “Your Majesty, let me introduce my daughter, Ara.”

  Etta instantly saw the duke in a new light. He had a daughter with magic? Camille must be really happy about that. The thought sent a perverse pleasure through her. Maybe that was why the princess had been forced to be on the side of magic folk.

  One quick glance around the room was all Etta needed to register the heaviness in their expressions. Where was Alex? And Catrine?

  Edmund voiced her questions. “Where’s the king?”

  Simultaneously, their faces darkened and a foreboding chill crept over Etta. She turned to Tyson, her brother, the overly honest prince.

  “Where is he, Ty?”

  Tyson sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “They’re saying he doesn’t have much longer, Etta.” His voice choked. “He’s…” He shook his head. “I didn’t think anything could take him down.”

  She stepped closer to Tyson, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Ty?”

  He pushed out a shaky breath. “He was attacked last month. Our healers thought they’d save him, but then infection… He’s dying, Etta.”

  The ground shifted beneath her. Her legs quaked as she stumbled back, sucking air into her lungs.

  She shouldn’t care, her magic told her. Forget about him. He meant nothing to her.

  Then why did her heart crack right down the middle? She shook her head. “He… he… he can’t.” Her words shook, and she grabbed for something, anything to keep her upright, latching on to Edmund’s arm. He held onto her as if his life depended on it, the news breaking him open just as much as her.

  Alexandre Durand, king of Gaule, was the enemy of her magic and all she could think was that if he died, she’d die right along with him.

  If they were still tied by the curse, she would. Their lives had been entwined. But this was different. It wasn’t her body that would die upon his last breath, it was her soul.

  “I need to see him,” she forced out.

  “Not so fast, your Majesty,” Duke Caron said. “You have a lot to answer for. You cannot walk away until we know why our gate lays in ruins and three of our nobles appear to be under the influence of magic.”

  Etta glanced back at him with a growl. She didn’t care how she appeared to these people. Not when the need to see Alex burned through her. “You’ll get your answers when I deign to give them to you.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, and she released a tendril of magic–just enough to push him back into a chair and hold him there.

  “Persinette Basile,” he snapped.

  “Da,” Ara slid into the seat next to her father. “No.”

  Tyson hadn’t moved, but Ara’s voice sounded in Etta’s ear. “He’s in his chambers.”

  Etta nodded gratefully and motioned for Edmund to follow her, preparing to use her magic to stop anyone who came after them. No one did.

  The guard outside Alex’s chambers stepped into their path to stop them and Etta flung him against the wall, using her power to bind him there before pushing into the room.

  Alex’s eyelids shifted, but remained closed. His skin had dulled into a sickly gray pallor and his dark hair stuck to his face. On the table beside the bed, a bowl of leeches waited to be used next to small glass vials containing various tinctures.

  Catrine sat in a chair with her head resting on the bed, her long dark hair obscuring her features from view.

  Etta’s eyes focused on Alex’s face. Even when she’d wanted to hate him, he’d been so strong, so sure.

  Edmund’s hand slid down her arm and he laced his fingers with hers, squeezing tightly.

  “Alex,” he breathed.

  Catrine stirred and lifted her head slowly, her heavy-lidded eyes rounding when she saw them. Her shoulders dropped, and a sigh blew past her lips. “Thank God you two are here.” She got to her feet with the slowness of a much older woman. Her lips drew down, deepening the lines on her once flawless face. “He’s been asking for you. I didn’t have the heart to remind him you were…”

  Etta tried to move forward but her feet wouldn’t budge. Edmund dropped her hand and walked to the side of the bed with none of the hesitation she felt.

  “Why has he been asking for us if he didn’t know we’d ever be back?”

  Catrine reached Etta’s side and put a hand on her back. “He hasn’t been in his right mind, honey.” She didn’t bother with the formalities their ranks insisted upon. Catrine never had. She’d taken Etta under her wing and now the reason screamed
with clarity. Catrine Durand had loved Viktor Basile. Tyson’s existence proved that.

  It should have tainted Etta’s opinion of the woman, that Viktor had betrayed Etta’s mother. But instead, Etta soaked in the comfort she’d always gotten from Catrine. She sucked in a heavy breath and pushed it back out as her feet finally started moving.

  For so long, her magic had been forcing Alex into the role of the enemy in her mind, but now that he was slipping away, nothing made sense anymore. She hadn’t been so lost since the moment the curse was broken and their bond disappeared.

  Edmund sat on the edge of the bed and took Alex’s frail hand in his. The king of Gaule murmured something unintelligible.

  “Alex, sweetheart,” Catrine cooed.

  “You don’t need to wake him,” Etta protested. Of all the scenarios, this was not how she’d imagined meeting Alex again.

  “He’s been sleeping all day. It’s time for his next tincture.” She uncorked a bottle and poured it into a wooden mortar before grinding it together with the pestle. She didn’t ask the questions everyone else had for Etta and Edmund. Her only concern was her son. For once, the kingdom’s worries faded into the background.

  “Alex,” she said again, squeezing his upper arm. His eyelids fluttered open slowly, and he stared up at them as if he couldn’t place who they were.

  Unable to hold back any longer, Etta touched the side of his face, fingering the soft hairs growing on his cheeks. His entire face slackened. “Etta.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “I knew you’d come home, eventually.”

  She frowned. Gaule wasn’t her home.

  Alex’s eyes shifted to Edmund. “She saved you from the dungeons?”

  Edmund’s pained eyes met Etta’s.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Etta saved me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex breathed. “I shouldn’t have kept you there.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I wish I could have been your savior.”

  Tears sprang to Edmund’s eyes. “You were, Alex. You always were.”

  “I love you.” Barely audible, the words had Edmund collapsing forward and pressing his face to his best friend’s chest.

  “I love you too. Always.”

  “Etta.” Alex tried to lift his hand to reach for her. “My Etta. Promise you’ll stay with me.”

  Etta jumped back, her eyes shining. “I… I can’t do this.”

  She reached the door in four long strides and didn’t relax until it stood between her and the dying king on the other side.

  She choked back a sob. With a flick of her wrist, she released the guard she’d left pinned to the wall and turned to find Tyson waiting for her.

  She sucked in a breath and did her best to push all thought of Alex aside before going back to the things she could control. The safety of her people.

  “I’m ready for those questions, Tyson. I have answers for you, but your council better have answers for me as well. Answers and action. I will accept nothing less.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tyson banged his head on the table in front of him. They had retreated to the suite of rooms belonging to Camille and her husband while they stayed at the palace.

  “I don’t believe you,” Camille said, eying Etta warily. “You’re just trying to stir up tensions within Gaule.”

  The anger snapped within Etta and she held her breath, holding her simmering power in check. What was it about this place that made her control disappear so quickly?

  Edmund wasn’t there to calm her. Not this time. He’d remained at Alex’s side.

  If she spoke, she feared her magic would barrel into the indignant princess.

  Amalie stepped forward to put a hand on the back of Tyson’s neck. She’d arrived soon after Tyson led Etta into the room and kept a protective eye on the prince.

  “Didn’t Alex have guards stationed in my father’s house?” she asked. “They were meant to watch for more unrest among his followers. My sister… she’s always been his puppet, but I never saw this coming.”

  Etta shook her head. “I’m sorry Amalie. Your sister has continued your father’s persecutions and murder of my people.”

  Amalie swallowed hard but didn’t divert her steely eyes. That girl was no longer the scared kid who’d had to be rescued from her father’s reach.

  “Tell us again.” Duchess Moreau said over the rim of her teacup.

  Etta sighed. “They’re killing my people. You all wondered what I was doing in Gaule? It’s because I trusted you to keep magic folk safe and you failed.” Her harsh gaze cut through each one of them. “While you sit here in your palace, your country falls into darkness. I refuse to let it take Bela with it.”

  “Is that a threat?” Camille narrowed her eyes.

  “Darn right it is. I don’t want to have to come against Gaule, but if it comes to it, I won’t hesitate.”

  “Who do you think you are?”

  Etta straightened her spine, peering at Camille as if she was nothing. “I am the queen of Bela.”

  They stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away.

  “This isn’t helping.” The duchess’s voice broke their standoff. She set her teacup on the table and buried her face in her hands. Etta had never seen the woman emit anything other than strength, but it seemed there was no strength to be had in the palace.

  Tyson. Duchess Moreau. Catrine. Simon. Even Camille. They were broken down, worn out, by war, but mostly because the person they all loved was fading away.

  To have such love… Etta couldn’t imagine it. Alex’s death had the power to destroy them.

  She got to her feet. “Now that you all know I didn’t come to attack you and have no malicious intent—and some of you even believe me—we have work to do. I’m sorry about… about Alexandre. But a king is not a kingdom and right now the kingdom must come first. Honestly, I don’t care what you do with Gaule, but when it affects my people…” She looked to Duke Caron. “You control a large force in Gaule. Why were Liza and Lord Leroy’s other allies not kept under closer watch?”

  The duke scratched his chin wearily. “The Caron forces have been moved to the border to join with the Moreau ranks to guard against any attack from Dracon.”

  Tyson nodded in approval.

  “We’ve been using the royal guard to patrol the lands of any noble who took up arms against the crown, but they’ve been spread quite thin and…” The duke trailed off.

  “And?” Etta pressed.

  Tyson blew out a breath and his next words burst out of him. “We can’t trust them, okay? Half the guard fought against the crown and the other half are probably still of the opinion that the more magic folk hanging from trees, the better.” He slapped his hands over his mouth.

  Camille sank heavily into the chair beside her husband whose face betrayed nothing.

  Duchess Moreau sighed and Amalie closed her eyes.

  Finally, Etta understood. The ones who wanted to protect the magic folk represented the minority in Gaule. Even those loyal to Alex didn’t all believe in what he was fighting for. Equality. Safety. Peace.

  There was too much history in Gaule for them to succeed. Etta thought her task of rebuilding Bela was an impossible one, but her people were of one mind. They came from many places. Some crossed the border from Gaule, others arrived over the open sea. But they were all Belaens. They all wanted to rebuild the kingdom that had belonged to them all along. There was a purpose, a need, a willingness to sacrifice.

  What was Gaule fighting for?

  “There will never be peace between our people,” she whispered as the realization struck her like a bludgeon to the chest. She sat on the edge of the plush velvet couch surrounded by all the opulence she’d grown used to in the palace and all she could think of were her people in Bela living in the overcrowded village, or the magic folk in the villages of Gaule with only thatched roofs protecting them from the world.

  Duchess Moreau lifted her head, her expression betraying the truth of Etta’s words
.

  The ever-hopeful Tyson wouldn’t hear it. “Don’t say that, Etta. We can make it happen. I know we can.”

  Etta shook her head slowly, hanging it low. Her golden braid hung over one shoulder that was sagged in defeat. The enormity of the problem crashed over her, making it hard to breathe. There were too many magic folk still in Gaule. Those who hadn’t chosen to leave for the unknown Bela. She breathed out loudly. “One problem at a time.” When she raised her eyes, the desperation in the room nearly choked her. Duchess Moreau and Duke Caron had been protecting magic folk for many years and now knew it wasn’t enough. Tyson was coming to the realization that his magic would never be accepted in Gaule, prince or not.

  Only Camille looked unaffected and Etta knew it was because the princess had known it all along.

  Amalie was the next to speak. “Etta is right. We need to decide what to do with the traitors. My father’s followers will continue to fight as long as he sits in the dungeons.”

  “Who is making decisions in the king’s stead?” Etta asked.

  Duke Caron released Camille’s hand and stood. “The council has been given that power. Alexandre wanted to return Gaule to its former rule. The king used to rule in conjunction with the council. Neither had more power than the other. When his Majesty was attacked, we had no option but to push through the decrees he had set in motion. As of right now, the council is the sole ruler. Duchess Moreau and I hold seats as well as the prince and princess. We will meet and come to a decision.”

  Etta nodded. “I brought him your nobles as a courtesy to avoid a conflict. I could have killed them outright. Remember that. I expect justice for all those they have harmed.”

  Etta left them to their discussions and Amalie followed her out.

  “Your old rooms should be sufficiently prepared,” the girl said, her voice shaking. She didn’t speak of her family, but sadness swirled in her eyes. “The rooms haven’t been used since you left.”

  Etta stopped when she was outside her door and turned to Amalie. “How is he?” she asked, knowing what a stupid question that was.