The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  She waited for it, but it never came. “I’m sorry for the cadet,” he said, jaw ticking. “His actions were inexcusable, and I apologise for how he made you react.”

  Eliza bit down on her tongue—hard. She couldn’t help but wonder why he was the one apologising, and not the cadet. Hesitantly, she said, “I wasn’t expecting an apology. I thought you were going to get shitty about the magic.”

  He nodded. “I understand that. It won’t happen again.”

  “What?” Her brows rose. There was something about him that made her think twice, like a bad case of déjà vu. Before he could reply, she shook her head.

  He probably hadn’t meant to, but a smile flickered at his lips. “Commander Brandon Thorne of the king’s army.”

  “Eliza.” She stuck out her hand, and albeit slowly, the commander took it and shook. Something in her clicked. “I know you.”

  Eliza wasn’t sure what she saw flash across his face—alarm? It was quick, but she could tell her words affected him; he dropped her hand quickly, like she’d burned him. She tried to play it off, but something deep within her cracked in response. “Uh, you were there, when I came through the gateway. I recognise the chain.” She pointed to the silver necklace that appeared over the collar of his shirt.

  Thorne visibly deflated, like what she said wasn’t what he expected. “How could you tell?” Those stormy blue-grey eyes of his had hardened, darkened, but he was slowly pulling himself together.

  She shrugged. “You just seem familiar. And you gave it away.”

  Commander Thorne seemed to want to object but closed his mouth quickly. Eliza smiled in quiet triumph and turned on her heel.

  Though she’d only walked through the forest earlier that morning, it looked somewhat different. An ever-changing lifeform, she thought. The burrows in the tall branches looked like they were now part of the trees themselves, and she couldn’t make out if there were any sprites or pixies or nymphs climbing amongst the branches. The grass looked grey, almost lifeless. Talk of the darkness flashed in her mind, but she shoved it away. It wasn’t her problem, not right now.

  A shudder of dread coursed through her. Eliza stopped and turned back to the commander, who had been following her dutifully through the forest. Despite the overcast day, she could see him clearly. “You know following me makes me think you’re planning to kill me.”

  He cocked a brow. “And what makes you think that?”

  “Why are you following me?”

  The commander straightened, like he was prepared to go on some kind of spiel. It was then Eliza noticed his height. Tall, was one way to put it. Six-two, she imagined. “My duty is to serve the king, and as you are his guest, I need to make sure you are safe.”

  “I’m still in view of the guards,” she said, exasperated. “I think I’m fine.” Her heart fluttered, even if he said he was doing his duty. “But… thanks.”

  Silence passed between them—Eliza couldn’t call it easy, but it wasn’t tense, either. She’d just met the man, and although there was a familiarity to him, she tried to brush that away. She had a job to do, even if she doubted that she’d be able to get it done.

  If she was going to find the prince, then she wanted to go to the scene of the crime. Eliza had watched shows like Criminal Minds, so she knew the drill—even if they were fictional shows. Living in New Orleans and learning about missing persons and murders came with the territory, especially since she could see the dead and understand them.

  Eliza began making a mental list of what she needed to do, including going back to where Prince Alicsar had been taken. There was something else that ate at her though—something one of the guards had said about the first warlock to go out searching.

  Surely I won’t find anything, she thought as she jumped over a moss-covered boulder. But if he was lying… Eliza then decided to find him too, and question him herself.

  “Why are you here, Eliza?” Commander Thorne asked suddenly, leaning back against a tree. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the grey shirt he wore stretching as he did. He watched her with an intensity she couldn’t quite escape, like he was seeing her not for the first time—no, they had seen each other before in the temple—but like he was seeing her anew, in a new and changing light.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Eliza decided she needed to start moving again, if only to get the commander to stop looking at her like she was a puzzle, or some kind of freak-show entertainer. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said over her shoulder.

  Eliza could almost feel his eyes roll. “You know what I mean.” He continued to follow her deeper into the forest. She made sure to stick close to the road that led to the palace, keeping it in the corner of her eye. “Why are you in the Winter Palace?”

  She stopped, lips pursed. When she turned, she found the commander a lot closer than before, close enough for her to touch. She stumbled back and swore under her breath. When she found herself caught in his stare, she had to force herself to look away. “You don’t know?”

  There was a pause, and she sighed. What would be the repercussions of telling him? He was a commander in the king’s army, so admitting to him what she was going to do… it wouldn’t be a bad thing would it? But she thought back to the king’s words of keeping the mission quiet, and her own fears resurfaced.

  And yet, she found herself telling him anyway. She almost cursed herself but decided, screw it, the king and his rules be damned. “The king has employed me to find the prince.”

  His jaw ticked as he looked her over, brows furrowed with worry. “Why you?” he asked, voice low.

  “Trust me,” she said with a shake of her head, hair bouncing, “I’ve been asking myself the same question. But I’m still not happy with the answer.”

  He pursed his lips and looked away, as if he too did not trust that she would be able to find the prince. It was the same look she’d given herself in the mirror.

  “No one has found any trace of him,” he said slowly. “How are you any different?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you even know where to start looking? Do you have any leads, anything that might help you?” He took a measured step towards her, head cocked. He didn’t sound condescending, at least. But he was analysing her, his stare critical.

  Eliza shook her head, relenting. She didn’t bother voicing her ideas. “No.”

  Those piercing eyes of his revealed nothing. “So why you?”

  Irritated, Eliza shoved him back with a wave of magic and breathed in deeply. “Because I have powerful magic that’ll help me.”

  That sounded better in my head. She almost cringed but refused to give him the satisfaction.

  The commander’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “That won’t be enough. The most powerful Warlock has gone after the prince and has found nothing. How are you going to do any better?”

  “Because I have a power that the Warlock didn’t.” Keep digging that hole, why don’t you?

  Just to break the tension, Eliza started walking again. She had no destination. She just needed to move and stop him from asking so many questions.

  It would be easier for her to admit it: she could see ghosts. But… she spared a quick glance over her shoulder at the hulking man who walked behind her. He brushed his hand through his hair and met her stare. Kay’s warning and those fears came back. What would he do if he knew she was a necromancer? Probably kill her then and there… or run.

  Eliza quickly looked away as a blush crept up her neck. His gaze continued to reveal nothing, leaving her stomping through the underbrush of the forest.

  “What power?” They were coming up to a small glade, the creek already frozen over.

  They stopped, and Eliza looked at the canopy of trees—felt the dying sun break through the clouds and wash over her in chilling warmth. The sounds of the forest seemed to cease as they faced each other.

  “It’s none of your business, actually.” Eliza definitely couldn’t deny the spike
of fear in her heart. She turned back to the frozen creek, to the quiet woods and the muted colours of the forest. Certainly, the darkness her grandfather talked about had seeped into the very life of this place. Even the thought sent a shiver down her spine. The sky darkened as if to reflect that.

  When she turned back to the commander, he was watching her with shadowed eyes and lips pulled down in a frown. If she could guess, it looked as if he were caught up in a memory. Maybe he knew this glade or remembered what Cadira was like before the darkness. She wanted to ask but couldn’t quite find the words.

  Eliza began walking back to the palace when he did not reply, feeling the storm above them grow. The sky opened to release a light sprinkle of rain, which cooled Eliza’s hot face, slowly drowning out the thrumming in her head and the confusion that swirled within her.

  Even though she couldn’t see him, she could still feel the commander a couple of steps behind her. He walked a respectful distance even though he was still close enough to make the hairs on her arms stand on end. In all their time walking through the forest, Eliza hadn’t felt unsafe. Part of her knew she should have been more cautious, but she was in Cadira, and her magic was stronger than ever.

  She never got the sense of danger from him, though. Sometimes, if she were faced with a particularly bad customer at the museum, or some weirdo on the streets of New Orleans, she’d get a feeling; whether it would be the hairs on the back of her neck standing or a spirit screaming at her.

  He smiled when she turned back to check, and the gesture clawed at her chest. She tried to force it down, but the look in his eyes, the way he caught up to her to walk beside her…

  Eliza turned away.

  Thorne stepped out onto the road, and Eliza walked out behind him. They strode out to the middle, uncaring as the rain intensified, slowly drenching them.

  “What do you know about the Warlock who was first sent out to search for the prince?” Eliza asked suddenly, looking up at the commander.

  He paused for a moment; eyes narrowed. “He was summoned first because he’s the most powerful. Why?”

  Thanks for that reiteration, she thought, irritated.

  “Because I want to talk to him about what he found that night.”

  The commander nodded. As they neared the gates, he stopped, arms crossed. “I can set up a meeting with him, if you really think that’ll help you find the prince.” Eliza swallowed thickly; her mouth suddenly dry. He was offering his help. “I don’t know how it will though, since he’s revealed everything he knows. And then some.”

  Eliza smiled, somewhat grateful. The king had never told her that she couldn’t get help. And the prince had been missing for over twenty years. If anything, she was going to need all the help she could get, necromancy abilities aside.

  “Trust me. I can get answers; I’ll find out what I need to know.”

  There were no more carts or soldiers heading in and out of the palace gates, though they were still open. The commander let her slip through first and continued to follow her to the slippery marble stairs. Already, the doorman was waiting for her, his lips pulled down in a frown. In his arms he had a towel.

  She turned back to the commander, only to find him several steps away. Those stormy eyes of his flashed, and one hand curled into a fist. Beneath his wet shirt, she saw the outline of the silver chain hanging over his heart.

  “I’ll send word to you when I hear from him,” he said, edging towards the encampment. “Get dry.”

  Eliza watched as he turned around. Some part of her wanted to call out to him—it was the same part of her that screamed déjà vu whenever she looked at him. It was something she couldn’t quite escape, and to be frank, it frustrated her and confused her to no end.

  “Wait.” He paused before turning back to look at her. “Why are you helping me?”

  The commander’s eyes flickered up and met hers. “Because it’s my duty to do so. And…” He shook his head, dark hair sticking to his forehead. “And maybe I want to.”

  She didn’t know what to say; her heart was racing, and that damned blush she tried to fight was now spreading up her cheeks once again. Damn him, she thought.

  “Miss Elizabeth, please.” She turned back in time to see the doorman sigh, to see her servant sidle up behind him. The commander was still behind her, watching. “Out of the rain before you catch your death.”

  She didn’t have a choice; with one last look spared towards Commander Brandon Thorne, Eliza entered the palace with just a little bit of hope.

  8

  A VISION IN RED

  The storm continued late into the evening. It wasn’t until after dark that Eliza received a calling card from Commander Thorne. It was only a letter to let her know he’d sent word to Amitel and asked for a meeting, but it was a good start—especially for her. He’d also written that he’d see her at dinner.

  When she’d returned to her room earlier—bound in blankets and soaking wet—a bath had been drawn and Clio had set out a pair of comfortable Cadiran clothes for Eliza to wear, telling her that she’d be back at six to help her dress for dinner with the King.

  Apparently, it was going to be a rather large feast, including all the visiting councilmen, their wives, their heirs, and all the commanders, officers, and generals present at the Winter Palace. It also now included Eliza, who would be sitting close to the king. As far as she knew, only the Captain of the Guard, the king, the Keepers, herself, and now Thorne, knew about her position, so she knew she’d likely receive unsettling glares and be the source of scandalous rumours by the end of the night… but she couldn’t really bring herself to care, especially when she saw what she’d be wearing.

  Blood-red and sleek, the dress hugged Eliza’s curves, falling to the ground like silk, finishing in a short train. The back of the gown had intricate lace, while its bodice was plain, the same lacy design at the hem.

  Clio forced Eliza into a pair of red heels that had her feet aching before the night had even started, while her hair was pinned up with pearls. Eliza refused makeup again and decided against wearing an expensive-looking ruby pendant that the king had given her.

  When dinner was called, Eliza was escorted down to the large hall by the king himself. Ornamented in jewels and gold, Eliza looked quite plain beside him, but he complimented her nonetheless, though he did question why she’d refused the ruby necklace.

  “It looked really expensive,” she’d said after a moment. “The necklace, I mean. It’s a lovely gift, but it really didn’t look right.”

  He nodded but did not reply. Eliza bit her lip and kept quiet after that.

  Walking in on the arm of the king sent the room into silence. The doorman cleared his throat. “His Majesty, King Bastian and Miss Elizabeth Kindall.”

  The enormous table was full of people, each with empty plates in front of them, but full wine glasses. There were decorations spread across the centre of the table, leading all the way down; twigs and branches that looked like glass glimmered in the candlelight of the dining room, droplets of crystal hanging from their ends. Bowls filled with emeralds and rubies overflowed in intervals, and there were large, gold vases spread around with purple flowers that danced with the soft music of the orchestra in the corner.

  Though there was silence amongst the guests, there was also a clear universal order; every person stood, their backs straight, waiting for the king and Eliza to take their seats at the other end of the table. Based on the direction Eliza and the king had entered from; she was forced to face the preening nobility of his royal court, rather than the assembled military figures they passed.

  King Bastian released her arm and strode to the head of the table, while a young servant showed her to her seat, only several spaces down from the king. She waited to sit, like everyone else, until the king took his place.

  There was absolutely no hesitancy in the court’s whispers when she finally sat.

  Towards the other end of the table, Eliza spotted Commander Thorne, who had
caught her eye when she’d moved to her seat. She spared him a smile, yet in response he turned away to speak with a woman beside him, ignoring Eliza completely. It stung, but how could she be surprised?

  A lady across from Eliza caught her stare. “I am Duchess Yohanna, wife of Duke Josef. Who exactly are you, Elizabeth Kindall?”

  Eliza swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m the ward of Keeper Davis Kindall.” She looked over to the king, but his attention was elsewhere. “And I’m here as a guest of the king.”

  The duchess gave her husband the side-eye, making Eliza clench her teeth. The king, however, spoke with the man beside him. The Duchess didn’t say anything else to Eliza, content with the information she’d gleaned. She moved on to speak with another woman at her side instead.

  Sighing, Eliza picked up her wine glass and took a large sip. No one else bothered to speak to her, and she suddenly felt alone.

  Eliza looked across at Commander Thorne but found his attention elsewhere.

  The first course was served to the king and then the rest of the table, consisting of a light pumpkin soup. Eliza ate it slowly, savouring the warmth. The room had gone cold suddenly, and even though she knew the fire was being fed and poked behind her, she still shivered. The chill in the air left Eliza feeling rather uncomfortable.

  The seat to her left, which had previously been unoccupied, was then taken by a young man. His sandy hair—combed back with enough gel to give him a role on Jersey Shore—glimmered with gold dust. He had narrow shoulders, and the hands of a musician, Eliza thought. Completely different to the commander. His smile was kind as he offered his hand.

  “Lord Irvington.”

  Eliza extended her own and they shook. Heat rose in her cheeks as he searched her face. He was attractive in the same way that she found Disney princes attractive; there was an otherworldly beauty to his sharp jawline and the elegant tilt of his head. He didn’t look quite real to her, like the colour of his blue eyes was off, or the fact that his hands looked a little too strange to be part of his body.