Golden Crown Page 11

  Amalie seemed to sense who Etta was speaking of and her lips turned down. “Tyson is… trying to be strong. For his mother.”

  Etta put a hand on her arm and squeezed. “I’m glad he has you.” With that, she let herself into the room and closed the door, sagging against it as the day’s emotions drained every bit of energy from her bones.

  The room looked no different from the last time she’d seen it and the familiarity provided a strange sense of comfort. She’d been through so much since calling this place home and it brought her back to the girl she’d been. The one who was cursed and in love.

  She kicked off her boots and padded across the room to the canopied bed that called to her. She longed for a brief respite from this strange new world she found herself in. As she sank into the bed, she remembered all those sleepless nights wondering about Alex.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Her magic pulsed beneath her skin, urging her to forget, to be unaffected.

  In that instant, her magic tried to pull her into the darkness while thoughts of Alex called to her from the light.

  She’d almost fallen asleep when someone pounded on the door. Reluctantly dragging herself from the bed, she went to unlatch the door and let in a disheveled Edmund. Red rimmed his eyes and tears ran down his cheeks. He didn’t try to hide them.

  He didn’t say anything as he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. His back shook and her breathing stuttered as she shut her eyes.

  “Etta,” he sobbed. “What are we supposed to do?”

  She leaned back and brushed the tears from his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs. “I don’t know.”

  After pulling him farther into the room, she moved to stoke the fire that smoldered in the fireplace. When Amalie dropped her off, she hadn’t noticed the platters of food on the table by the fireplace. Edmund poured a cup of wine with shaky hands and drank it down in one gulp before pouring another.

  “He was talking about you,” he said after he’d taken a large sip of his second drink.

  Etta continued to crouch in front of the fire, the flames warming her icy skin.

  Edmund lowered himself onto the couch. “He’s delirious, Etta. The fever has taken any sense he ever possessed. He doesn’t seem to remember that you two are supposed to be at odds. He just kept saying he needed you.”

  “He doesn’t need me.” She straightened up and turned toward the wine. “He never did.”

  “Weren’t you friends?” He sniffled, trying to get a hold of his emotions. “Before the curse kicked in, you were friends.”

  She grunted. “That was before I spent part of my life on the run. I grew up, Edmund.”

  “Well, soon he won’t be your problem anymore,” Edmund snapped. “Then you can go on living your life as if he was never in it. But me? I don’t care what his father did to our people. I’m going to be mourning my best friend for the rest of my life.” He bit off the last word, his face flushed with anger, and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Etta watched him for a long moment before walking with deliberate steps toward the couch and sitting next to him. She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m breaking. Seeing Alex in such a state is tearing me in two. It’s not supposed to be like this. I don’t want to, but…”

  “You can’t help it?” he finished. “I know the feeling.”

  “Yeah, I guess you do.” That was why she and Edmund understood each other. They’d both loved Alexandre Durand. For Edmund, it was illegal—at least in Gaule. For Etta, loving the king of Gaule went against the natural way of things. It ignored history and put the future in jeopardy.

  They were quiet for a while before Edmund spoke again. “Before coming here, I’d have sworn I was past my feelings. I still think I am. But whether my love has morphed into the platonic kind between friends or not, I don’t want to lose him.”

  None of them could afford to lose Alexandre Durand. He was the only thing holding Gaule back from the brink. Etta hadn’t asked who his successor was. Had he named Camille? The woman who continued to hate magic despite her husband’s feelings. Or Tyson? The boy who would never be accepted because of the Belaen blood in his veins.

  Edmund slipped toward the bed to get some rest, but Etta’s mind continued to rove. As soon as Edmund’s breathing evened, she left the room behind and found herself outside Alex’s door. Catrine had probably long gone to bed. The guard eyed her, but news of how she’d tied the other one to the wall must have made the rounds because he didn’t try to stop her from entering.

  “Leave,” she ordered, wanting to be truly alone with Alex. “Now.”

  She raised her hand in threat and he started off down the hall. Alex needed better guards.

  A single candle burned low on the table. Soon, no light would grace the room. Alex’s pale skin shone in the dim glow. Etta flicked her finger, and the flame grew larger until his every feature was illuminated.

  A sheen of sweat highlighted his brow. Etta moved to the bed, the sudden urge to be near Alex taking control of her every move. She found a bowl of water and cloth on the table next to him. Dampening the cloth, she dabbed it across his forehead, wanting, needing to give him any relief she had to offer.

  A groan sounded weakly in his throat and his cracked lips moved as if he wanted to speak. Lips that had once been the only thing she thought about. They’d had the power to hold her together when it seemed as though the curse would break her apart.

  How hadn’t she seen it before? When the curse was broken, the void it left behind was so deep, so destructive, she’d thought it took everything. Alex had been a casualty in the battle with La Dame.

  Only he hadn’t. He was right there in front of her. For only a little while longer. Setting the cloth down, she lowered herself into the chair Catrine had left and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bed.

  An entire future had once seemed spread out before them, but they’d been kidding themselves. Kings and queens served as sacrifices for their kingdom. They could never think about what they desired, only what their people needed.

  At least good ones.

  A sigh rattled through Etta’s chest and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against her closed fist. If she hadn’t come to take on Liza Leroy, would she have even known Alex was dying? She supposed they’d have heard about it once the news reached Bela. Being beside him, as hard as it was, it felt right. For the first time since her fight with La Dame, she felt whole.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why you? Why us?”

  When his hand moved to take hers, she snapped her eyes open. He watched her, his usually bright eyes clouded with fever. She threaded her warm fingers through his chilled ones and held on as if she’d never let go.

  “Shhh,” he whispered, the sound barely audible. “It’s okay.”

  “Nothing is okay, Alex.”

  “You’re here.” He attempted a smile. “That makes it okay.”

  Edmund had told her he wasn’t lucid, but she heard no confusion in his words.

  Tears rose in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “I didn’t want to see you again,” she said. “You’re a Durand.”

  He laughed but the sound barely made it past his lips. “Ah, sweetheart, I don’t think that matters anymore.”

  She bit her quivering lip. He was right. It didn’t matter. Maybe it never had.

  One corner of his mouth quirked up. “I missed the curse after it was broken.” His voice cracked. “But now I’m glad it isn’t here. I couldn’t stand the thought of taking you with me.”

  She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “I missed it too,” she whispered. “I just didn’t admit it, even to myself.”

  “Can you stay with me?” he asked. “Just one last time. Don’t leave me again.”

 
; She nodded against his head and pulled herself down next to him, offering him her warmth. When she rested her head in the crook of his neck, he sighed, and she felt like she was right where she was supposed to be. He was too weak to wrap his arms around her as he used to, but it was enough. It had to be.

  Her voice vibrated against the faint pulse in his neck. “This time you’re the one leaving me.”

  “Never,” he whispered. “I will love you forever and that means I’ll always be with you.”

  The tears finally broke through, streaming down her cheeks unchecked. How had she denied it for so long? Now it was too late.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you. It wasn’t the curse; I just didn’t see it.” Tears choked her words, but Alex didn’t respond.

  “Alex?” She lifted her head to look into his face and felt for a pulse at his neck. It was there, but slowly fading. “Alex.” She shook his arm. No response. “No. Please. You can’t.”

  The door opened and Edmund rushed in. “Thought I’d find you here after you disappe-” His face went white as he stepped closer to Alex.

  A hole tore open inside Etta. She needed more time. How was she supposed to rule a kingdom without thinking of Alex here in Gaule? How could she live when he no longer did?

  Her magic swirled through her chest as she hiccuped back sobs. Edmund tried to wrap her in his arms, but she pushed him away, her control slipping.

  “You should go,” she said, her tears still flowing. “I can’t… I can’t stop it.”

  Controlled by her emotions, the power grew and pulsed, raising the hair on her arms.

  “I’m not leaving you or Alex,” he said.

  Etta looked into Alex’s face. Still alive, but only barely. Life faded from him quickly, and she doubted he’d live to see the sun. The power inside her jerked, and threw her forward, forcing her to grab Alex’s arms to steady herself. It was coming. Like with the gate, once the flow of magic started, she couldn’t stop it.

  She was dangerous.

  The golden glow started in the tips of her hair and worked up the long strands until it lit the entire room.

  “Etta,” Edmund yelled, but she barely heard him over the buzzing in her ears.

  The magic zipped down her arms so fast she couldn’t stop it before it jolted into Alex. “Noooooo,” she cried.

  His body flew from the bed, taking her along with it. They landed with a thud on the floor as Etta’s magic continued to swirl in the air. Alex thrashed wildly, his eyes still closed.

  Then all at once, the power snapped back into her and flung her onto her back. She couldn’t move as the stillness settled in around them.

  It took her a few tries before the words would leave her mouth. “Is he…” She was too scared to see it. Her magic had struck Edmund a few times too, but he’d be okay. Alex was so weak. There was no way he could withstand it.

  Edmund breathed heavily and Etta lifted her throbbing head to see him crawl toward Alex and hover over him. She couldn’t see Edmund’s face, but the stiffness in his posture told her everything she needed to know. Alex was gone.

  She laid her head back against the ground wishing he’d taken her with him. Her eyes watered but she didn’t have the strength to wipe away the tears. All she wanted to do was curl up and forget her duties.

  “Etta.” Edmund’s voice shook. “He’s… you need to come here.”

  She groaned and rolled onto her side to scoot her tired body toward them, afraid of what she’d see, but knowing she needed to look into his face one last time. She managed to sit up but froze.

  Color rose in Alex’s pale, clammy skin. His uneven breath that only moments ago had seemed like a struggle for him to get out, now worked smoothly. His eyelids shifted, fluttering his lashes against his cheeks.

  Edmund gasped beside her and she hated the hope he was giving her. It wasn’t possible.

  “No,” she said. “Edmund, no.”

  “You can’t deny what we’re seeing.” He finally tore his eyes away from Alex to stare at her in wonder. “You have Draconian blood.”

  She hauled herself to her feet, despite her aching legs. “I can’t. I’m a Basile. We don’t have healing magic.”

  “The Basile magic hasn’t been seen since the days of Aurora and Phillip. No one would know if a Draconian entered the bloodline since then.”

  A question entered her mind that she was afraid to voice. What if it wasn’t her Basile power? She remembered little of her mother… had this been another one of her parent’s secrets?

  “Edmund,” she said, stumbling back. “If we’re wrong. If we’re imagining things… please, don’t make me wish for things. Don’t give me this hope.”

  Someone coughed, and it wasn’t either of them. Both sets of eyes snapped to Alex’s prone form. His eyes opened with the slowness of a man seeing for the first time. The milky film was gone, allowing the crystal gaze she’d missed so much to reappear.

  “Edmund?” he asked softly, furrowing his brow in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  Etta fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

  “Etta,” Alex breathed. “You came back.”

  She nodded, removing her hands to meet his eyes before crawling toward him. A tear fell from her eye, landing on his cheek, and she wiped it away.

  “Don’t mind her,” Edmund said. “She’s only crying because she just found out her bloodline isn’t as pure as she thought.”

  She reached across Alex to shove Edmund and he fell back with a laugh. “Ass,” she mumbled, returning her gaze to the man below her. “We thought we’d lost you.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Where have I been?”

  Etta’s eyes connected with Edmund’s. “You don’t remember?”

  “I…” he began before a pained look crossed his face. “I was attacked in my own room.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t remember anything since then.” His eyes popped open. “If I was attacked, why don’t I feel it?” He pushed himself up until he was sitting and Etta steadied him. His hands patted his chest. “Where are the knife wounds? I know I was stabbed.”

  “Our little Draconian healed you,” Edmund answered. “Apparently a Basile ancestor was very naughty getting it on with a Draconian.”

  “You…” Alex looked to Etta, and his eyes widened.

  She shrugged, uncomfortable under both their curious gazes. There was still so much she didn’t know about her own power, but right then, all she could think of was how grateful she was that she couldn’t control it. The irony wasn’t lost on her. If she’d been able to hold it back, Alex would be lost.

  Without warning, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her close, his lips finding the side of her face. A jolt of warmth shot through her as he kissed her just below her ear before moving down to her neck. She twisted her fingers into his hair as he brushed his overgrown beard against her smooth skin.

  “Thank you for not leaving me,” she whispered.

  “Thank you for holding me here,” he responded.

  She got to her feet, drawing on her magic to restore her own strength. Edmund helped Alex up.

  “I need to wash,” Alex said.

  Edmund patted him on the back. “It’ll take a few days to recover even with the healing magic. Trust me, Etta likes to beat me up on a daily basis, so I know.” Edmund pulled him into a relieved hug.

  “I missed you too, Edmund,” Alex laughed weakly.

  Edmund grunted. “I’ll return after you get some rest.” He strode from the room and Etta turned to follow him.

  “Don’t leave,” Alex looked to her as if he was a lost boy and she was the map home. “Please.”

  She turned toward him once again with a single word on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t utter it because it would be a lie. She’d wanted to say ‘never’ but there were no nevers or always for them. He was still the king of Gaule and she was the queen of Bela. So many unanswered questions lay between them. There was time yet t
o answer them.

  For tonight, she would stay. But soon, she’d have no choice but to put him behind her once again.

  She couldn’t bring herself to care about that future day. As Alex cleaned up in the washroom, happiness bloomed within her. The boy she thought gone forever was still here. Still him. Always Alex.

  He returned with wet hair and a tired smile, his movements slow. “I’m not used to having someone else in here anymore,” he admitted nervously.

  She breathed out slowly. “I just need you to prove to me that you’re real. That I’m not dreaming.”

  “If this is a dream,” he said. “I hope it’s the kind that never ends.”

  He kissed her then. No, not just kissed. He stole her lips and made them his. He burrowed himself into her soul, latching on to every part of her being.

  His breath was hers. All the months of hate and secret longing poured into a single moment. And it was brilliant.

  “I’m real,” he breathed against her lips. “We’re real.”

  His body weak from the healing, she led him to the bed and pushed him down before climbing in next to him and fitting her body up against his. Lacing their fingers together, he kissed the back of her hand.

  “Sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll still be here when you wake.”

  His eyes drifted shut and a moment of panic had her checking for his pulse. It beat strong, matching her own. She released a sigh and finally let the rest of the world drift away until it was only the two of them and their dreams.

  Chapter Twelve

  Etta lied. The moment Alex woke, he knew it. She had promised she wouldn’t leave him, but the only sound in the room was his own breathing. At first, he thought he’d imagined her presence. For so long, he’d dreamed of having her near.

  But his first glance around the room proved the events of the night before had, indeed taken place. A table along the far wall tilted on its side. His belongings laid around the room as if a cyclone had entered the palace.

  He let his head rest against the pillow. No, not a cyclone. Magic. Her magic. She’d healed him. It seemed the secrets of the Basiles never ended.