The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  Fae, she reminded herself, rolling her eyes. Fae were following me. She couldn’t be sure if that had anything to do with the blood-relation she had with the immortal creatures, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to find out. Eliza knew little of her heritage, other than that her parents had been close with Kay and Davis, and that any blood relations she had were long dead by the time she had stumbled out of the portal and onto the streets of New Orleans.

  Some nights, that lack of knowledge—the unanswered questions and the forgotten memories—left her feeling hollow, like a large part of herself was missing.

  For the most part, she played it off. Her family—the only one she had and the only one that cared—were in New Orleans, in the world she’d been exiled to. But she feared asking questions would separate her from the only family she had.

  In the twelve years she had lived here, Eliza had never felt so alone as she did when trying to explain herself to her guardians. It twisted in her gut as she looked at them, and she knew it didn’t really have anything to do with the fact that she claimed to have been followed—it had everything to do with how she didn’t belong to the world she loved.

  Eliza met Kay’s stare, then Davis’s, and cleared her throat. “The museum had some late visitors, out-of-towners who clearly could not read our closing times. There was a creep who wouldn’t leave too.” Her boss had let her leave through the back, but she didn’t mention that, nor that the creep had made more eye-contact than Eliza deemed appropriate. “I got out at about eleven, and I felt something following me. I decided to cut through the cemetery, and I saw them.”

  Kay’s brows shot up, but those violet eyes of hers remained unworried. “Who?”

  “Ghosts follow you all the time, dear,” her grandfather reasoned, reaching a weathered hand towards her. Something in his eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought she saw recognition flare in his silver eyes. “Most of the time, you do not notice them. Perhaps these ones realised you could sense them and took to following you to get your attention.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, but she shook her head. “It wasn’t spirits! I can tell the difference,” she said, a bit indignantly. “Anyway, I doubt Fae spirits wander around New Orleans like a bad smell.”

  If she had wanted a reaction from her guardians, Eliza did not get it. Kay’s eyes darkened, while Davis’s lips thinned, but neither of them said a word.

  Eliza looked between them. “I’m not making this up,” she said, slumping in her seat. In the chair beside hers, Odin meowed loudly. She ignored him with a twist of her lips. “There is a Faery in New Orleans, or is that something you won’t believe?” Despite herself, anger thrummed deep in Eliza’s bones, making her fingers clench and her heart beat erratically in her chest.

  The grandfather clock struck one, and the courtyard filled with a twinkling faery song to announce the hour, almost like it was mocking Eliza and her fear. But fear of what? The truth of it brought her stomach into her throat.

  Faeries are tricksters, Kay had told her once, years ago. But they are ancient, and they are deadly.

  Eliza wasn’t even sure where she fit on the mortal spectrum, what with the traces of Faery blood and magic pumping through her veins. That uncertainty left her feeling alone, different. Would she master immortality like Kay and Davis? Or would she wither and die while her family lived on?

  Davis cleared his throat and pushed his tea aside. Her grandfather locked eyes with her, a white envelope now tucked into his hands. “I cannot believe that you are almost ready.”

  Curiosity swelled within her, despite the anger and indignation she’d been feeling moments before. Almost like a switch had been flipped, Eliza focused on him rather than the Fae. “Ready for what?” she asked quizzically. Her eyes dropped down to the envelope.

  Davis slid the paper to her, though did not release his grip. His fingers shook. “There is much that you have not been allowed to know up until this point. What I am about to give you will change your life, but it does not have to change you.”

  Eliza cocked a brow; her whole life, she had known there was something more to her training, more to the reasons why she was forced from her home world of Cadira and into the throng of the mortal realm. Though she dreamt of the life she could have had in Cadira, she had grown to love New Orleans, for the city and its people had raised her as one of their own. Perhaps she was going back—back to the world that had thrown her away, back to the world she had no memory of, other than the copper scent of blood mixed with crisp air and death. Perhaps her grandfather was ready to send her away, or at least tell her why she was even in New Orleans in the first place.

  But… Eliza shook her head, something deep within her revolting at the idea of going back. A sudden seed of fear wedged itself in her gut at the thought. No, she thought, swallowing thickly, I’ll never go back. Not if I have anything to do with it. She wanted to know about her past, about her life before New Orleans, but not at the expense of losing everything she already had and loved.

  As if sensing the fear Eliza tried to withhold, her two guardians shared a look of despair and worry.

  Eliza clenched her teeth and slowly dragged the envelope towards herself. “Is it from Cadira?”

  “Yes, it is,” Davis said quietly, folding his hands together. Eliza noticed the small tremor in his fingers. Did he know? Was he aware of what was written within the letter? “I never thought it would come this soon. I honestly thought there would be more time.”

  Her heart pounded as she slid her nail beneath the envelope’s seal. With every movement, her hands shook from trepidation. What was it? She wondered if the letters contents would change everything.

  First, she noticed the smell of ink that bled through the parchment, strong and sharp against the perfumed smell of roses that wafted from the paper. Roses made her think of a woman, perhaps a relative of hers, but she couldn’t dredge up a memory. Was one of them contacting her at long last? Eliza tried to think of the possibility, and realised if it were a Cadiran relative, then they had probably learnt of Eliza’s upcoming eighteenth birthday, though it was still at least five months away. Based on what she’d learnt of Cadiran politics and customs, Eliza would be preparing for her entrance into society, if she still lived there, that was.

  No, she thought, with an inner shake of her head. Her hands shook as she held the letter, unable to open it. Maybe she was to be drafted in some war for the king; she was technically still a citizen of Cadira, and there were whispers that a war was brewing on the horizon. Perhaps she was to fight with her magic.

  Or…

  Eliza slammed down those thoughts and pulled the parchment apart to read the bleeding, inked words:

  Elizabeth Kindall, daughter of the mountain tribes, apprentice of Portal Keeper Davis Kindall.

  By request of King Bastian III, you are hereby invited to the Winter Palace to stand before His Majesty to honour the agreement held between your guardian, Keeper Davis, and His Majesty, the king. For reasons best kept secret for your safety and the kingdom’s, you will be expected by the entrance of the closest wards by sunrise, one week from receiving this letter in your realm.

  In the name of the King and his followers,

  His Royal Attendant.

  A breath escaped her dry lips as confusion swelled within her. An audience with the king? Either she royally screwed up or there was more to her past than she expected. Best case scenario, it could be a royal pardon for whatever crime had sent her to Cadira. She wasn’t sure, not when she had no memories of her time in Cadira. Worst case, a claiming or an arranged marriage. Don’t rule out the possibilities yet, she thought, biting her lip, the king could want anything.

  The only thing she cared about, however, was if she’d be back in New Orleans by the end of that day.

  The king… It had to be a joke. Eliza searched her guardians’ faces for an answer, but they were closed off from her.

  Catching her stare, Kay sighed. “Kid...”

  That
fear she had almost forgotten gripped her tightly as she gazed upon her two guardians. Even her grandfather had tears pooling in his dark eyes. Their pale faces seemed to crumple at the sight of the letter.

  Eliza knew little about her king. The line of Cadiran royals ended with him, though there were rumours of an illegitimate child hidden somewhere and a hope that the son stolen from him, his true heir, was still alive.

  The first time Eliza had heard about the legendary attack on the king, she’d been twelve. Kay had described the brutality of the event; the dead queen and princess, the prince stolen from his crib, the mass murder of every soldier and staff member who happened to get in the way of the intruders.

  A shiver danced down Eliza’s spine.

  “What does this mean?” she asked, pushing back a tangle of hair that had fallen over her face. Only moments ago, she had been worrying about a Faery in New Orleans following her. “Do the Fae have anything to do with this?” She was distantly related to the immortal creatures that dwelled beyond the Willican Forest, and they were following her.

  Davis frowned, shaking his head, but Eliza saw something flash in his eyes. “Let King Bastian explain it all to you.”

  Outside their home, Eliza could hear the distinct song that was New Orleans; late night jazz music drifting up from Bourbon Street, muffled rumbles of traffic, the occasional wail of a siren, and the cheers that sporadically arose down the street.

  Everything that made New Orleans home, she realised, would be taken from her. The king wanted her to go to Cadira for an audience. Would she ever return?

  Eliza tried not to let that fear shine too brightly in her eyes.

  “Let the king explain,” Kay said finally, eyes still glistening with tears. “Out of respect to him, let him explain.”

  Eliza shook her head, clenching her trembling hands into fists, feeling the sharpness of her nails bite into the soft flesh of her palms. “Fine.” She slid out of her chair, sighing deeply.

  Kay reached out a hand but stopped. “Eliza…”

  Eliza merely shook her head. “I’m going to bed.” A single tear slipped down her flushed cheek. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  Without another thought about the king’s mysterious summons, Eliza shuffled into the parlour of the house and up the heavy wood stairs towards her bedroom. She passed collections of odds and ends, things that made her home magical and brilliant and exciting, things she knew would not go with her to Cadira.

  Would she have to pack? Eliza considered the old, worn duffel she had shoved under her bed, the one with the hole in the side that Kay had patched with pretty satin from Cadira. She thought about her Game of Thrones t-shirts and Marvel socks and realised that none of those things had any place in that world.

  To go to Cadira, she realised she would have to give up a critical part of herself; the normal, home schooled, museum worker, who listened to indie jazz bands in her spare time and had too many piercings in her ears.

  The things she cared about… they didn’t belong in Cadira; her smart-mouth and ripped jeans certainly didn’t belong amongst the ruffles and tiaras of court. She didn’t belong amongst the dazzling creatures of her birth world, no matter how much she’d once tried. She’d given up when she realised the reality of her situation—she wasn’t sure if she fit there, and now she didn’t fit in New Orleans either.

  She released a breath; she was meeting with the king in his Winter Palace. That did not mean she had to stay there, right?

  Eliza flipped the light-switch of her room; above her, constellations appeared so bright they lit up the ceiling; a legendary queen pointing towards the west, her crown pointing north, and in the other corner of her room, the Goddess Azula looking over her. Eliza’s room was her only true connection to her birthplace, the closest she had ever let herself get.

  The open window across from Eliza revealed the eeriness of the streets of New Orleans; the streetlights flickered on and off, and the buzz of electricity echoed in Eliza’s ears.

  Suddenly, underneath the floodlight, a form shrouded in shadows, appeared, his silver armour reflecting the light at odd angles.

  Eliza took a hesitant step forward.

  The Knight raised his head and met Eliza’s stare. The gold-eyed raven, perched on his shoulder, cawed, as if calling for her to join them.

  For some reason, Eliza deeply considered jumping from her window and disappearing into the night, leaving behind the worries of a desperate king and the expectations that were suddenly thrust upon her.

  Before she could take another step, the light flickered again, and they were gone.

  2

  BLOOD & NECROMANCY

  I could be sleeping…

  Eliza pulled her dark hair back, scrunching her nose up as she gazed in the mirror. While her eyes weren’t her most favourable feature, she couldn’t help but notice the dullness that had entered them since reading the king’s letter.

  Honestly, she thought, frowning at herself. Moss green eyes stared back. The thought of being drawn into the politics of royalty made her heart thunder.

  “You okay in there?” Kay asked, knocking on the door. Eliza stiffened. She looked herself over once more, from her black jeans to the plain black t-shirt she’d thrown on. Simple, but only for training.

  Eliza sighed and touched the golden doorknob. Stop being so worried, she chided herself, gnawing on her bottom lip. Light-headed, she pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall.

  Kay leaned against the wall by the bathroom door, wrapped in a cosy, rainbow-coloured shawl. Her silver-white hair was pulled back in a bun, frizzy-strands hanging out at odd angles. Her lined face was creased in worry, and her thin lips pursed as she looked Eliza over. She reached out a hand and touched Eliza’s shoulder. “You okay, kid?”

  Bile rose in Eliza’s throat as she leaned back against the door-jam. “Honestly? I feel like shit.”

  Had it been her grandfather, she wouldn’t have said anything; she’d have sucked it up and went along with whatever was in store for her. However, the knot in her stomach tightened until all she could feel was that growing sense of worry and doubt. It had been eating at her since she’d gone to bed, and hadn’t receded when she’d awoken, either.

  If only I could read minds, she thought, or see the future. But she couldn’t; her affinity lay in death and necromancy, bound to the land as much as spirits were. Her whole life, she had trained, but never with her necromancy, not with the darkness that dwelled within her.

  Eliza released a heavy breath, closing in on herself. “I just… I don’t get why, you know?”

  Kay gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “What’s really worrying you?”

  Everything? She bit her lip. “I don’t know.” She couldn’t deny the excitement that coursed through her, of the possibilities being presented to her by the king. My heritage, Cadira… everything I’ve wanted… And never asked for.

  Head cocked; Kay looked down at her. “You think it’s all too good to be true, don’t you?” Her brows furrowed, cheeks burning red.

  The air in Eliza’s lungs left her quickly. Yes. “What if it’s not what I imagined? What if the king just locks me up and throws away the key?”

  “Why would you think that?” Kay asked, straightening.

  Eliza shrugged and looked away, biting down on her lip. “I don’t even know why I’m here, Kay. What happened before all this?”

  Something about what she said changed Kay’s demeanour.

  Heat flooded through Eliza as she stared down her guardian. Kay, who had lived most of her life in Cadira, had left the world she’d been born of for crimes she hadn’t committed. And now, she could never return.

  “Would you go back?” Eliza asked, breaking the silence. “Would you go back to Cadira, if the courts granted it?”

  Because Kay belonged to a different ruler and to a different kingdom, Eliza couldn’t begin to imagine what lengths Kay would have to go through to be allowed entry into the magical realm.
Even with her power, entering Cadira—even going near the courts that exiled her—could mean certain death.

  What Eliza knew about Kay’s situation in Cadira, in the Courts of Light in the south, was little, and depended mostly on stolen moments and whispers heard in the darkness.

  Kay’s eyes softened, tears glistening. “If it meant giving up New Orleans and you, no.”

  “Then why do you expect me to do the same?” Why do you expect me to go along with this and risk never coming back?

  Somewhere in the darkness of Eliza’s mind, a memory clawed to the surface. Ice. Snow. A blizzard wrecking the land. She remembered white trees and glistening stars. Harsh yet beautiful. Consuming. Cadira. But she shook the memory from her mind.

  “This is a meeting with the king,” Kay said. She reached a hand up and cupped Eliza’s face. “You don’t even know what he’s going to say. Stop worrying about what might happen and focus on what is happening now.”

  She patted Eliza’s cheek; soft hands comfortingly warm. “You will see the king; you will hear what he has to say. And whatever happens next, you know your grandfather and I will always, always be proud of you.”

  Tears burned behind Eliza’s eyes. Taking in a shuddering breath, she forced the swelling fear back. What did she have to be afraid of? She wondered. Yet, she couldn’t deny the inkling of doubt—doubt in herself, in her abilities, her worth—that bubbled deep within her.

  Or the strange shiver that crawled over her skin, like a warning.

  Kay’s hand dropped, and as she took a step back, the feeling disappeared completely. “Now. Don’t we have lessons?”

  Eliza rolled her eyes and fell back into the familiar guise of intolerable teen, if not for Kay’s sake, but for her own. Normality, and the consistency that came with keeping to routine should have been enough to keep her mind off the looming event.