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  Edmund got to his feet once more and stumbled backward. Esme reached for his arm to keep him upright.

  At Esme’s healing touch, Edmund stood straighter, his eyes regaining clarity.

  Etta shook her head. “It’s been too much.”

  “I’m fine,” Edmund said, his voice strained.

  He was anything but fine. They’d been training for days and Etta lost count of the number of times Edmund had been knocked unconscious or thrown into the icy water. She was improving, learning to control when the power was unleashed, but pulling it back was another story. The impact reached far enough that they’d cleared the beach of all people except the three of them.

  If she was ever going to have a chance against La Dame, she needed complete control over her powers. The more she used it, the greater her stamina became.

  But would it be able to match that of the most powerful sorcerer in the world?

  She’d been able to focus enough to expel bits of the power without releasing it all at once. If she strained, she could draw on her ability of growth—the very same thing she’d tried that first day. They stood at the base of the cliffs and the vines crept up the sheer rock wall, slithering like snakes.

  She closed her eyes, seeing her old home in her mind. The Black Forest with the meadow of flowers she’d created was her safe place, despite its location inside Gaule. It calmed her and allowed her to contain the magic trying to break free.

  A hum sounded low in her throat as a hand landed on her shoulder. She startled out of her trance and instinctively sent a blast of power behind her, striking Edmund in the chest.

  She turned in time to see him land halfway down the beach, his body bent at an odd angle.

  Esme reached him before Etta and laid her hands on his chest. He was back with them in moments.

  “Do you enjoy almost dying?” Etta spat, pushing to her feet.

  “Not particularly,” Edmund wheezed, staring up at the sky. “No.”

  “Why did you touch me?”

  “You were doing it. Focusing your magic.” He rolled over onto his belly and pushed his hands under him. “Forgive me for being proud.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “I was doing it, wasn’t I?” She turned back toward the cliffs where a series of vines now crisscrossed the surface. She clenched her fist, feeling the magic pool in her fingertips. It wanted the same thing she’d spent her life seeking. Freedom.

  The curse had been her master and now she was the magic’s master. She could do this. The power inside of her was a living thing, but it attached itself to everything she was with promises of everything she could be.

  “Edmund needs to be done for the day,” Esme said, ever the voice of reason.

  Etta nodded. “You two go up to the cook fires and rest. I’m going to keep practicing.”

  “Not alone,” Edmund argued.

  “Edmund, I am the queen. I will do as I please.” She softened her eyes. “Just go. Please. I’m okay.”

  They hesitated a moment longer before disappearing up the path. Etta held her palms over the ground and started by releasing magic in small amounts, working up to a continuous stream, blasting sand into the water. She walked forward, a cloud of dust surrounding her.

  The air turned frigid as the sun disappeared from view, but Etta’s skin was blazing. She unhooked her cloak and tossed it behind her, raising her arms. Her golden hair flew back away from her face as she enjoyed the feeling of strength, of power.

  It was a dizzying mix of fear and a desire for more.

  “Etta,” someone’s voice broke through her trance. “Etta!”

  The power fizzled out as she lowered her arms. She’d done it. She’d pulled it back. She hadn’t hurt anyone. A breath rattled in her chest as she turned her head to meet her cousin’s gaping stare.

  “You…” Matteo couldn’t get any other words out so he just pointed. “Your…”

  “What?” Exhaustion struck her suddenly and forcefully. Taking a step toward him took every ounce of energy she possessed.

  “Hair,” he croaked.

  Etta raised a heavy arm to the hair that had come loose from her braid and pulled it forward, dropping it immediately. It was glowing as it had the day it grew from where she’d cut it off. She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking when she opened them, none of it would be real.

  But it was. Her hair had an ethereal golden shine. It began to fade as they stood there gawking at it until it returned to its normal blonde shade. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but part of her thought she’d imagined it before.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  She managed to get herself to the rocks before her legs collapsed beneath her.

  They didn’t speak for a few moments until Matteo broke the silence. “I’ve lived most of my life in La Dame’s household and I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  Etta buried her face in her hands. “There’s so much I don’t know. Has the curse kept this power from every generation of Basiles since Phillip and Aurora, or am I the only one? What am I supposed to do with it? Is my magic strong enough to beat her?”

  When he didn’t respond, Etta spoke again, but this time it was more to herself. “Why do I miss the feeling of the curse filling me?”

  “The last one is easy.” Matteo took her hands and pried them away from her face. “The curse gave you a single purpose. There was no question as to what you were supposed to do. Protect the Duran king. That left no room for interpretation and there was nothing you could do to change it.” He paused. “Now you are a queen and none of us know what being queen of a kingdom that was destroyed generations ago even means.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “How’s this for simple—you miss serving someone instead of having people serve you.”

  “That’s just stupid.”

  “Is it?” he asked. “Okay, then let’s try this. You don’t miss serving. You miss serving Alexandre Durand.”

  She forced out a laugh. “There’s only one Durand I want with me and that’s Tyson.”

  He bumped her shoulder. “For the record, I think Alexandre Durand is a spoiled king who had never tasted hardship before La Dame took him.”

  “I don’t disagree with that assessment.”

  “And now he’s gone back to his palace. He’ll have won it back by now and Gaule will return to its glory days of persecution and torment. We should take advantage of their internal struggles and make our move.”

  Etta slid from the rock, Alex’s face appearing in her mind. Was he okay? Were Tyson and Catrine? “No,” she sighed. “I made a promise. Their borders will remain untouched.” She gave Matteo a reassuring smile. “But at the first sign of Belaens being persecuted in Gaule, we ride.”

  Chapter Six

  Disgust churned in the pit of Alex’s stomach as he stood atop the inner walls looking out on the traitors residing in the outer palace. They’d taken his home, but that wasn’t the worst of it. They’d found magic folk who hadn’t been able to flee to Bela or seek refuge in the inner palace. Lines of them were chained along the wall, a shield of prisoners. At any hint of their magic, one of the guards would kill them.

  Persinette once told him that most magic folk possessed a magic that was quite weak, only allowing them to do simple tasks. Then he’d seen the kind of power she possessed and he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

  But they didn’t try to break free. They appeared truly broken.

  “You shouldn’t be atop the walls, your Majesty,” Simon said, stepping up beside him. “Your guard says you refused them when they tried to accompany you.”

  “I am the king, Simon.” Alex patted him on the shoulder. “There are few benefits, but being able to command my guard to let me be, just for a moment, is one of them. I didn’t have that as the prince.”

  Simon nodded, not looking at him. “I remember. You got quite good at evading us.”

  “Not
as good as Tyson.”

  A rueful smile appeared on his lips. “That boy would disappear for days. I never envied the men he slipped when they had to face the king.” His smile fell and hawk-like eyes scanned the small town in the outer castle. “But I’m serious, sire. One well-placed arrow and we are suddenly lost.”

  Alex ran a hand through his hair. “The fight would go on without me.”

  Simon didn’t respond right away, but Alex felt him tense as if prepared to block an attack if necessary. “There wouldn’t even be a fight without you.”

  Alex scoffed but Simon went on. “You stood up for something, sire. You broke away from your father’s cruel rule. The purge is still remembered by some of us. I was a young man when they came for us. Gaule was the only home I’d ever known. Bela was a place of distant stories. It was the dream, an unattainable one. Gaule was real and our kingdom turned on us. My wife was killed in the first round of the purge.”

  Alex sucked in a breath and turned to stare at the profile of the guard beside him. A man he’d known so little about.

  “But you came to serve my father, anyway? You must have hated him.”

  “I did.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When I first came to the palace, I was angry. I was going to kill the king.”

  Alex stopped breathing as the traitorous words settled around him. “But you didn’t,” he croaked.

  “No.” His lips tugged down. “I didn’t. I was assigned to his son. I knew if I raised my hand against you, it would hurt the kingdom far more than the kingdom hurt me. It would have been easy. But the purge was ending by then and to take your life would have caused a resurgence of the hatred. So, I waited, hoping that one day I could help my people.”

  Alex pushed out a breath. “And instead, they’re either imprisoned in this palace or down there with chains around their ankles.” He pointed to the prisoners below.

  Simon faced him. “Or in Bela rebuilding what should be ours with our queen. Your Majesty, my people finally have a future. Even the ones here. I didn’t think I’d ever see a day when they trusted another Gaulean king. You say you don’t matter to this fight, but you are the fight. You showed an entire people you will go to war for them. They will follow you.” He gripped Alex’s shoulder. “Now, let’s get off this wall before your mother has both our heads.”

  Ara was waiting for them at the base of the stairs. He could see it now, the resemblance to Duke Caron. Her brother was with her. “I’ve spoken to Renner.”

  It took Alex a moment to understand what she was saying. She hadn’t had a two-sided conversation with her other brother, she’d used her magic to reach her voice out toward him.

  Alex motioned for them to walk with him. “Tell me.”

  “He knows the plan. He’s sending some men our way and the rest will be in position at sunrise three days from now.”

  “Good. What we really need are horses.”

  Hendry jumped in. “The tunnels should be just big enough to bring them through. Renner will get us what we need.”

  The siblings had faith in each other. That was good because there were so few people Alex could say the same about.

  “I don’t want my mother near the fight. She needs to be kept under guard along with the children and anyone else who does not know how to wield sword or bow. Ara, I’m going to want you with the archers atop the wall.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Alex stopped her. “Your skill with a sword is well-known, but you are of more importance to us directing everyone.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, acknowledging the truth in his words.

  “You should lead the archers,” Simon said to Alex.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Sire—”

  “I’ve gotten better with a blade, Si. I need to lead the soldiers who will be riding into the worst of it. They need to see me among them, not high atop the wall as my father would have done. The royal guardsmen who fight at Lord Leroy’s side must be forced to take arms against the king they betrayed. I will not be swayed in this.”

  “Oh look,” Ara said quietly, nudging her brother. “It’s our new mother.”

  There was no mistaking the sneer in her words as Camille stepped into their path. Alex had known Duke Caron had many children, some older than his new bride, but it hadn’t hit him until then the position he was putting his sister in with the marriage. At the time, he’d only been focused on tying her to someone whose loyalty would never be in question and who would never be outwardly cruel. As much as he sometimes disliked his sister, she was still family.

  Camille’s eyes flashed with something a shade darker than annoyance when she saw Ara. She was trying to accept magic folk as her husband did, but it didn’t come naturally to her. Their father had twisted her deeply.

  “Sister.” Alex took her arm and pulled her away from Ara and Hendry, leaving them behind. “Is everything okay?”

  Simon followed them closely but didn’t say a word.

  Camille sighed dramatically. “You see the way they look at me.”

  “Maybe if you tried to hide your disdain for Ara, even a little.”

  She huffed. “Of course you’re on their side. Ever since your precious Etta showed up at the palace, magic folk mean more to you than your own blood.”

  His steps faltered at the mention of Etta. “Now you know that isn’t true, Camille.”

  She stopped walking and slammed the end of her cane into the stone floor. “Do I?”

  “Camille…”

  “Where is she, Alexandre? I used to think you were doing this because you loved her. Even if she was insufferable, I could understand that. You always were a fool.” A small smile played on her lips but then she shook her head and it dropped. “Now she’s not even here and you’re still allowing our kingdom to be torn in half. Is all of this still for her?”

  How did he answer that question? He’d started his mission to end magic’s persecution in Gaule as a way to protect her, to prove he wasn’t his father. Now…

  “Sometimes there doesn’t have to be a reason,” he said softly. “Maybe I just want to do what’s right.”

  “And then what? Say we win this battle, preventing an all-out civil war. Are you going to send the magic folk fleeing into Bela? That’s what they should do. It’s safest for all of us. From what you’ve said about Etta’s new powers, she could probably rebuild her father’s wards. We could be protected again. Magic folk were never meant to live among us.”

  Alex had to tell his lungs to expand to allow air to flow into them. Was his sister right? Separating Gaule from Bela once more would protect them from La Dame, but then what would happen to Bela?

  What would happen to its queen? To his brother and Edmund?

  Everything that mattered in his life was wrapped up in magic. How could he abandon them?

  “I don’t know, but Camille, I am the king. I need you to trust that I will do what is right for Gaule.” He didn’t give his sister a chance to respond before leaving her outside the council chambers. Those were questions he’d have to answer later. For now, he had to prepare for a more imminent fight.

  Alex sat atop his steed. Waiting. He hated waiting. But every part of this plan had to be executed to perfection. His horse snorted in agitation and he realized it felt the same tension in the air.

  A hundred and some odd horsemen crowded the courtyard with foot soldiers waiting just inside the palace to follow.

  Most of the soldiers had been in the palace already, choosing to stay loyal to the crown when Lord Leroy showed his true colors. Others had come in with the horses, using the Black Forest to evade detection.

  And still, some were just magic folk. Until this point, they’d lived ordinary lives and kept their magic hidden as if it was something to be ashamed of.

  Alex had come to see that none of them were ashamed. They hid their power for fear of what would happen, but they were a proud people. They knew the history of Bela. It was passed down from generation t
o generation through stories and legends.

  Just as Alex knew Gaule’s colorful past. If it hadn’t been for his father, would Gaule be fighting so hard against magic? Would they be so divided?

  Before his father became king, there was much less power in that title. Did Alex want to allow a council to rule Gaule instead of only a king?

  When his father consolidated his power, taking it from the council piece by piece, it allowed the purge to come about. No one was there to stop him when he ran magic folk from their home.

  Alex shifted in his saddle, pushing those thoughts from his mind. He didn’t want to think about where his power came from or if he even deserved to have it.

  Lifting his face to the rising sun, he caught sight of the archers lining the top of the wall. They were crouched down, hidden by low barriers. Ara was among them. Her gaze connected with Alex’s. He was too far away to see her lips move, but her voice rang softly in his ears. “Be ready, my king. The forces are in position. The gates will open soon.”

  He nodded and turned to Tyson. “Are you prepared for this?”

  Tyson grinned, sliding his sword from his scabbard. “Will you let me have Leroy?”

  “You know I can’t do that, brother.”

  Tyson’s shoulders dropped. “I’m not sure I could kill Amalie’s father, anyway.”

  “Is she with mother?”

  “She better be,” he said darkly. “She wanted to join us. Can you believe that?”

  Alex shrugged. If there was one thing Etta taught him, it was never to underestimate a woman with a mission.

  Simon formed up on Alex’s other side. Duke Caron and Hendry were nearby. Alex shot the Duke an approving nod. He respected a man who didn’t rely on others fighting for him.

  The traitors in the outer palace still slept, unaware of what was about to be unleashed upon them.

  A groan reverberated off every stone in the courtyard as the gates began to move. There were shouts of warning on the other side, but they were cut off by arrows striking the guards in their throats. Chains rattled as the prisoners began to wake.