Noble Thief

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Three Years Ago

War ages a person.

Tyson felt every one of his sixteen years and many more. In Gaule, most commoners would be married at his age. They’d spend their days working the fields or manning their shops and then go home to a family. Each day would be the same.

But not for a prince who didn’t know which kingdom was his. He was raised as the son of the Gaulean king only to discover his true father was none other than Viktor Basile, descendant of the Belaen kings.

He had magic, but still didn’t know where he belonged. Among the magic folk?

An arm wound around his waist and he relaxed his stance to let Amalie into his moment.

“Why are you out here all alone?” Her voice calmed the darkness inside him, washing away the confusion in his mind. He knew where he belonged. With her.

“It’s hard to think around the noise.” He closed his eyes, listening to the waves crash along the shore.

She leaned in to him, letting the silence sink into their bones.

Only a week ago, Tyson rode beside his sister, Etta, as she faced the sorceress, La Dame. They’d won, but it hadn’t come without cost. He’d thought everything was lost. He’d lost faith in Etta. In himself.

And then the wall crumbled to the earth and on the other side was Alex. His brother had come. Behind him was a small Gaulean contingent. Amalie rode at his side. She’d faced the worst thing any of them had ever seen. For him.

He tightened his grip on her. If he hadn’t known it before, he’d realized it then.

Amalie Leroy was his future.

They’d never crossed the line between friendship and… more. Growing up, she’d only been Alex’s betrothed. Then she became Tyson’s companion in many of his misadventures.

“Amalie,” he whispered.

She stopped him with words of her own. “We should return to the party.”

Away from the beach, in the little town they’d created in Bela, the people celebrated their return home. They mourned those they lost and rejoiced in having a kingdom of their own, safe from foreign rulers.

Amalie turned to leave, but Tyson grabbed her hand to stop her. It was a new life post La Dame. Their world had fallen down around them and yet here they stood. Maybe it was their chance.

“Ames.” He tugged her back toward him, and she turned.

Dark eyes peered up at him, lit only by the silver starlight.

Her lips parted as she released a breath.

His lips curved into a smile. “I-I’m not sure I’m truly a prince anymore.”

Her brow arched.

He went on. “I have nothing. No house to call my own. Not a gold piece in my pocket.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “My only skill, that of the sword, is no use in peace time.”

Amalie’s laughter was like music punctuated by the drumming of the sea. “Ty, I can honestly say I have no clue where this is going.”

“Just listen, okay?”

She nodded.

“I am nothing. Not anymore. But Amalie…” His hand drifted up her arm and over her shoulder until his fingertips skimmed the curve of her neck.

Amalie’s smile fell as the words hung between them, both said and unsaid. She dug her fingers into his shirt and pulled him forward.

“You’re wrong, Ty.” Her words were only a whisper against his lips. “You could never be nothing.”

When she kissed him, Tyson believed. In the future. In himself. The war was over and there were so many possibilities. One thing had never changed. He loved Amalie Leroy.