Golden Crown Read online

  As one, the archers revealed themselves atop the wall and released a volley of arrows at the soldiers who were now running from their beds.

  “To the gates!” Alex yelled, kicking his heels into his horse and charging forward.

  The enemy soldiers scrambled toward their horses, but they weren’t fast enough as the force behind Alex cut a path through the mob. Cheers from the prisoners rang in his ears until it was the only thing he could hear, a siren’s song calling to him. He’d free them.

  “Caron,” he yelled. “To the prisoners.” He swung his sword down to cut at a man near his feet and snapped his reins. “Tyson, Simon with me!”

  The outer palace was steeped in chaos. Soldiers scrambling to protect their position. Townsfolk whose only misdeed was choosing the wrong side and getting caught in the crosshairs. An arrow whizzed past him and he spared a single glance at the archers.

  Ara’s voice drifted toward him. “Renner is engaged with Leroy’s forces. Get to the gates now.”

  They’d left just enough soldiers in the outer palace to hold it, but not enough to withstand the oncoming stampede. Leroy had counted on their lack of horses and fighting men.

  Heart beating in his throat, Alex mowed down someone in full armor who tried to stand in his way. Tyson hacked through someone behind him.

  “Sire,” Simon called. “Archers!”

  Alex whipped his head around, seeing the men climbing onto the surrounding rooftops, bows in hand.

  “Come on.” He rode forward, dodging one arrow as another flew straight toward him. He didn’t have time to get out of the way.

  “Alex,” Tyson screamed.

  Alex waited for the pain but it never came as the arrow stopped midair as if hitting some invisible barrier and clattering to the ground.

  Alex’s eyes darted around until landing on a young girl with golden hair pulled back in a braid. He sucked in a breath.

  “We have to get to the gate,” Simon interrupted his thoughts.

  Alex barely heard him. The girl had saved his life. She reminded him of… Before Etta invaded his mind, a guard yanked the girl back.

  She screamed when he put a hand over her mouth. Without thinking, Alex jumped down from his horse and ran after them. The guard was too preoccupied to see him until the king’s blade was sinking into his chest. He released the girl and fell back.

  The girl chewed on the end of her braid looking so much like Etta had when they were children.

  “Alex,” Simon called again.

  A man ran toward them and took the girl in his arms.

  “Thank you,” he said as he pulled her through a doorway to hide her from the fight.

  Alex shook himself and swung back onto the horse as another arrow narrowly missed him. With Tyson and Simon on either side of him, he rode through the very heart of the battle, not stopping until the gate loomed over them.

  Three men ran out of the gatehouse and Alex readied for a fight. Tyson raised one palm and a burst of water rushed forth, knocking them to the ground and pushing them toward the streets that now ran with blood.

  Alex stared at his brother in wonder. “When did you learn to do that?”

  “One day,” he said, “If you ever see Etta and Edmund again, you should ask them how they found me in Bela.”

  “After we win this.” Alex shoved past Tyson. “Today we need to win this.”

  Two more guards came from the guardhouse but stopped when they took in the sight of their king.

  Alex held his sword aloft. “You two have two options. You can either try to prevent us from getting this gate open and receive a sword in the belly for your troubles. Or you can decide not to be a traitor this day. Decide not to take up arms against your king. You have three seconds to make up your minds.”

  The two men looked at each other and then back at Alex. “We’ll get it open, your Majesty.”

  Alex nodded. “Now would be good.”

  They retreated into the guardhouse while Alex, Tyson, and Simon fended off anyone who tried to stop them.

  Hendry came charging toward them and leaped from his horse. “We have taken control of the outer palace, your Majesty.”

  “The prisoners?” Alex asked.

  “Freed and preparing to help us.”

  “Have you taken any of the nobles?”

  “No. They would have stayed with the larger force for protection.”

  Alex’s hope crumbled. He was right. This day was far from over. Taking the inner palace was the easy part. Only a minimal guard had been left along with the villagers.

  Ara’s voice drifted over all of them. “To the gate,” she said. “Be ready to charge.”

  At her command, their men and women who were still standing approached the gate, some on horseback, most not.

  “The wounded have been sent into the palace to be tended to,” Duke Caron said as he joined them. “There’s one other thing.” He nodded to one of his men who brought a struggling soldier to the front. As soon as her helmet was removed, grumbling sounded around them.

  Amalie stood in full armor with blood streaking down her face. Her sword gleamed red to match the fire in her eyes.

  “Amalie?” Tyson stammered. “What the hell?”

  She stuck out her chin. “This is as much my fight as yours.”

  “But…” No more words came as his mouth hung open.

  Alex looked to Caron. “Can you spare a man to escort her back to the palace?”

  “Of course, sire.”

  Amalie’s eyes flashed. “I won’t go.”

  “This is not the time to be stubborn, girl,” Simon growled.

  Amalie’s eyes met Alex’s. “My father is a traitor, Alex. I deserve a chance to right some of his wrongs.”

  Alex studied her face. “You’re right.”

  She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m allowed to fight for. If I want to risk my life for you, then…” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, what?”

  “Bring her a horse,” Alex called to one of his men. “I don’t want her on foot.”

  “Alex,” Tyson pleaded. “Don’t send her out there.”

  He turned to his brother. Before Etta, he might have sent Amalie away. But she’d changed him. Made him see his power differently. Why should he get to decide what someone deems worthy of their life?

  Amalie climbed onto a horse.

  “Let her do this, Ty.” He said, turning back toward the opening gates. “She has a mind of her own. Allow her to use it.”

  The sound of battle reached him before the gates were fully open. Caron and Moreau forces were engaged with Leroy’s soldiers. They were outnumbered and losing.

  As soon as the gates stopped moving, Alex charged, hoping his soldiers followed him. They cut a path through the center of Leroy’s forces as the traitors tried to scramble out of the way.

  Their distraction allowed Renner to order his men to move forward, closing the circle they had around Leroy’s men. That had been the plan. Encircle them and force them to stand down.

  A burly man charged toward Alex, sinking his ax in his horse’s chest. It reared, throwing Alex to the ground.

  He rolled to his feet as his horse collapsed beside him with a trembling sigh. Sparing one final glance at the beast, he ducked out of the way of his attacker and turned to meet him blow for blow.

  The large man yanked his ax free and brought with it a spray of blood that struck Alex in the chest. He blocked the swing of the ax with his sword but the other man was stronger, forcing the king’s weapon to the ground. Alex stumbled back, his eyes shifting to the side for any spare weapon.

  The traitor soldier advanced. His mouth was set in a grim line and there was no pleasure in his eyes. The people of Gaule didn’t want to be rising up against their king. They’d thought they had no choice. It was rebel or accept magic into their lives.

  Alex’s wild eyes caught sight of Simon nearby tearing through the ranks using the strength his magic gave him. I
t was frightening. Those who had magic would always have an advantage over those who didn’t. If they were allowed to use it openly, the power shift would be swift.

  Alex hadn’t understood.

  But there, in the middle of that battlefield, he knew why these people had come to fight and he couldn’t fault them for their fears.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Alex said, trying to calm his rapid breath. “None of you do.”

  The man stopped, surprised his opponent spoke in the middle of their battle. He grunted and took another step forward. “Magic folk killed my little girl.” When he swung again, there was less energy in it and Alex jumped back easily.

  He saw the moment the fight left the man’s eyes. Maybe it was the mention of his daughter or the fact that the battle was turning. Caron’s forces closed in, pinning Leroy’s soldiers in closer to the palace walls. Alex’s men still guarded the gate, preventing them from seeking refuge behind the walls.

  Alex bent and retrieved a fallen sword from the ground, but before he raised it, a blade pierced his attacker through the back, the tip of the sword slicing clean through.

  A scream stuck in Alex’s throat but never made it out as the man who’d just wanted to avenge his daughter crumpled to the blood-stained grass, all life fading from his eyes.

  Alex didn’t see who struck the killing blow because his eyes were on something else. A small soldier faced off against Lord Leroy. The portly man was no match for the quick steps of the girl Alex would recognize anywhere. Amalie’s helmet obscured her face from view as she blocked her father’s jabs. She spun with a quickness Alex hadn’t known she possessed and jammed a steel-clad foot into her father’s knee. He cried out as he fell. Amalie knelt behind him and held a knife to his throat.

  She pulled off her helmet and her father’s eyes widened.

  “Amalie,” Tyson yelled, running to her side.

  She didn’t spare Tyson a glance. Instead, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I’ll do it! Put your swords down now or the leader of your rebellion will not see his next sunrise.”

  Those close enough to hear obeyed, and the command made its way through what was left of Leroy’s troops.

  Alex scanned the faces looking for any of his other traitorous nobles, but they’d disappeared from view. He stepped forward, taking advantage of the temporary cease in fighting. “Lower your weapons.”

  Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he glanced from Leroy to the tired eyes of the men he’d roped into his rebellion.

  The loyalist forces weren’t doing much better as they leaned against their swords, breathing heavily. None of them had been untouched by this. Gaule would forever be changed. But maybe this could be the end of all the strife.

  He pulled on the ends of his hair as the words ran through his mind. None of them seemed right.

  Caron’s troops remained in a tight circle, controlling the circumstances. Alex shook his head. “We are all Gauleans.”

  “Not all of us,” Leroy spit, shooting daggers toward Tyson and Simon.

  Amalie pulled his hair back. “Say that again.”

  “Amalie,” Alex said, surprised at the venom in the normally sweet girl. “Release him.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Alex…” Tyson warned low enough for only Alex to hear.

  “Do it,” he commanded.

  Amalie removed her knife and kicked her father in the back so he fell forward. It didn’t escape Alex’s notice that she kept her knife in her hand and stood over him, preventing him from standing.

  Alex raised his voice. “Every person here has called Gaule their home. It is not my kingdom. It’s not your kingdom. It’s our kingdom. Together we have created greatness.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I am your king. My word is law.” He scratched his jaw. “But maybe it shouldn’t be.” What was he saying?

  He sighed heavily. “What has happened this day is a tragedy. Good men and women have lost their lives. Our children are no safer. La Dame is still on our doorstep. But she isn’t only our enemy. She is the enemy of all who are free and that includes the magic folk within our borders. It includes the Belaens. If we are busy trying to destroy each other, we are giving her exactly what she wants, and she will crush us.” He crashed his fist against his armor for emphasis.

  Raising his eyes to the palace at their backs, he shook his head. “Return to your villages. Live your lives until I call on you to protect Gaule. All who are here today are pardoned. Except for one man.” He hung his head and pushed through the crowd. “Simon, bring Leroy to the throne room.”

  Refusing the offered horse, Alex walked the long road through the outer castle to the palace where his mother awaited him. She gasped when he appeared. He released his hold on his sword and it hit the stone floor with a jarring crash as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “Is it over?” she asked, her words barely audible.

  He shook his head against her shoulder. “Not yet.” Without another word, he walked up the steps, leaving muddy boot prints in his wake. He sat heavily.

  Those who’d stayed hidden in the palace watched their king make his way wordlessly up to the throne room. He hadn’t been in there since the night he’d ended the war on magic—or thought he had. The same night he’d finally had Etta. The true, honest Persinette. The same night he’d been abducted.

  His own words rang in his ears. Had he really said them? That maybe his word alone shouldn’t be law? There’d be time enough to consider those implications later.

  The sound of heavy steel-toed boots fell behind him and brought him back to the current predicament. He closed his eyes and leaned forward against his throne. If the nobles had risen up against his father, they’d all have been executed. But Alexandre Durand was not his father. And killing a man who held so much power, so much loyalty in Gaule was not something he was prepared to do.

  Taking another deep breath, he turned and motioned for Simon to force Leroy to his knees. Duke Caron hurried in with Camille and Queen Catrine. Amalie and Tyson weren’t far behind.

  Alex walked forward until he was standing over Leroy, Alex’s muddied, blood-spattered boots right under his face.

  “I should kill you,” he said, his voice dropping. “For ripping my kingdom in half.”

  “You did that all on your own,” Leroy spat.

  Alex raised a brow toward Simon and the big man jerked the lord forward.

  “Get your filthy magic tainted hands off me,” Leroy growled.

  Alex leaned down. “You aren’t in a position to be making demands.” He narrowed his eyes. “If I kill you, there will be another uprising on your lands. We can’t have that.” He shook his head. “But I will also not allow you to return home only to stir up more rebellion.”

  Every face in the room turned to Alex in surprise, but he wasn’t done.

  “I tried to be a merciful king, but your chances have run out. You will now spend your days as a prisoner of Gaule. Your home will be a cell in this palace. My guards will watch you constantly. You have forfeited your freedom. I won’t kill you, but I can make sure others don’t die for your folly. Everything you now have will be because I allow you to have it. Everything you do will be what I allow you to do. Your life is under my control. Your lands and everything on them will pass to your eldest daughter Liza. You have no more claim to them.”

  Alex straightened and motioned to a guard to take the disgraced lord away. He walked toward the ornate wooden door meant only for the king, leaving behind a bewildered crowd. They’d wanted blood, but Alex was so tired of blood.

  He left his guards outside his room and when he shut the door, he sagged against it before dragging himself to the washroom.

  The water ran red as he washed the day away from his face and shaking hands. His armor was dented, but he’d managed to return uninjured. For now, he’d consider that a victory.

  After scrubbing every trace of the battle from his skin, he didn’t bother to put clothes on befo
re he sank into his bed, his tired muscles crying out in ecstasy.

  Alexandre Durand had never been a fighter. He’d had Etta for that. Beautiful, fierce, enemy Etta. But he’d spent the last part of the battle trying to convince his people that Belaens were not the enemy.

  Adrift in a sea of confusion, her face swam across his mind and he wished more than anything to feel the curse even for a moment. To feel connected, tethered. To know something still bound them together.

  As he reached for the bonds, his heart came away empty because he knew he may never get to lay eyes on her again.

  A shadow moved in the corner of his room and he wiped his eyes, thinking he must have imagined it. Shaking his head, he tried to relax into sleep.

  There was a scuffing noise against the floor and he sprang up knowing he hadn’t imagined it that time. Getting to his feet, he looked around, his eyes latching on to the shadow as it moved once more and came into the light.

  A man in dirty, blood-spattered clothing lunged forward, his eyes still crazed from battle. Alex didn’t get the chance to scream before the blade of a knife sank into his naked chest. He shoved the man back with every ounce of strength he had left. The attacker stumbled, knocking over a table with a loud crash, before jumping forward once again.

  “For Gaule,” he cried.

  Stars swam before Alex’s eyes as the man yanked the knife free. Alex got his arm up to block the next thrust and the sharp steel sliced into his arm like it was nothing.

  A cry left Alex’s throat, strangled with pain, as the attacker brought forth a second knife and lunged.

  Alex didn’t feel it this time as his knees buckled beneath him before slamming into the stone. Blood streamed down his chest, hitting the ground in a pool of liquid life. He was vaguely aware of the door to his room crashing open.

  “Your Majesty!”

  Simon. His lips formed the name, but no sound escaped. A fight surrounded him, but they were a blur before his glassy eyes.

  He tilted forward and the floor rushed to meet him before everything turned black.

  Chapter Seven

  The energy was sucked out of Etta until she couldn’t even stand. She fell forward, her hands digging into the sand in front of her. After practicing her new magic for weeks, Etta was now testing its every edge, every limit she had, pushing her boundaries as much as she could. Each day stretched her stamina but by the time the sun disappeared from view, she could barely move.