The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  She and Thorne had barely said a word to one another as they made their way back to the city and to the portal. Eliza, too wrapped up in her own thoughts—the lore and stories she knew of Mesah—couldn’t fill the silence with useless chatter. Especially after the revelations made earlier.

  Had they truly found something, or had they been led on a wild goose chase like Amitel and the trackers had been almost twenty years ago?

  Eliza couldn’t help but think about Thorne and the woman he had loved. She’d been killed, but for whatever reason, he was here. He was helping her.

  Everywhere they went, there was a distraction; some kind of trap or test. Did the soldiers and whatever higher entity ruled them know that they were getting close? Or could it all be pre-planned traps that would eventually amount to nothing because the prince was already dead?

  The questions ran through Eliza’s head over and over again until she couldn’t think about anything else. She knew the prince had to be her main priority, but she couldn’t stop dwelling on the man she was tied to. There was something pulling her to him, something inside her awakening at his presence.

  The portal’s magic washed over them, like it had when they’d first gone underground. It brought them to the surface, where darkness reigned freely, and rain poured from the skies above.

  Eliza swore quietly and stared up at the sky. Her luck. Perhaps Cadira was more in tune with her than she realised.

  The murkiness of the sky with the added rain that fell like sheets made it hard for her to see. Was the manor up ahead? Or the road? Her hair, plastered to her skin, became a curtain she could barely see through.

  Thorne untangled the rope, giving her a strong tug before leaping out of the fountain. Through the darkness and rain, Eliza could just see the glow of his eyes.

  “Really?” he asked, holding out his hand. “You enjoy being soaked?” A chill passed through her and she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly.

  With the ache in her legs and the pains in her stomach, and her wet clothes now clinging to her chilled skin, Eliza climbed out of the fountain, docs soggy and pants already chafing. She took his hand hesitantly and tried to ignore the racing of her heart as his warmth shot through her.

  Thorne made his way through the darkened maze, hand still wrapped in hers. As the manor came into view, she had to squint to see the outline of it properly—and to try and disentangle the spirits that rose up in response to their arrival. She could see them in her peripheral vision, noticed them watching her. The commander tugged on her hand and they ascended a crumbling staircase, then with a gentle push, he guided her into a small, dry place under a low hanging beam, lowering his head to fit underneath with her.

  His hair dripped onto her face as she looked up at him. They were standing closely together—closer than they had been over the last several days.

  Wiping her face, Eliza scowled, trying to ignore the racing of her heart. “Take a step back, Thorne.”

  He merely grinned, but he took a small step back. Eliza, for reasons beyond her, wished he hadn’t… that he’d stayed close.

  Shaking her head, she ran a hand over her wet hair, smoothing it down. “What now?” she asked, meeting his stare. The sound of rain echoed in her ears. “Are we going to wait out the rain?”

  Shrugging, Thorne looked her over before his eyes flickered out towards the maze. “I suppose we will, since we’re stuck walking until we can get the horses.”

  Eliza frowned. “Horses would come in mighty handy right about now. What took us four days on foot will take only two or three by horse, right?”

  Thorne nodded. “Something like that. We also need more provisions, and a proper place to sleep.”

  Eliza turned her face away from Thorne and tried to forget what had happened in the tunnels between them. Between them. There wasn’t anything between them, though, and she knew she had to remember that.

  “Of course,” she said, scrubbing a hand over her heated cheeks. “We don’t have much in the way of money, though.”

  Thorne shook his head. “There’s a military base a couple of hours away—a day at the worst. If we get stuck...” Eliza groaned, shutting her eyes and leaning against the wall beside her. “Much of the nobility will be in the capital with the king, so we can’t count on them for aid, especially after what happened at the Winter Palace.”

  “Of course,” Eliza replied. Her heart dropped at the memory; the smoke, the blood, Clio jumping in to save Eliza… “And how far away is the capital?”

  “A couple of days out of our way, towards the east.”

  Eliza decided not to answer, and instead watched as the rain hit the gravel and ruins around her, how it washed over the maze and the fountain. She could only guess that it had just turned midnight, especially since there was no sign of the rising sun on the horizon.

  “Doesn’t the capital have a port?” she asked finally.

  He nodded, narrowing his eyes. “It does. A day’s ride from the city.”

  “Does the port have a direct trade route north?”

  “It does,” he replied, smiling. “And I thought you said you knew nothing about the land. Looks like you don’t need me after all.”

  “Ha, very funny.” She rolled her eyes. “Now the problem is getting the horses.”

  “I might be able to help with that.”

  Eliza spun around as the commander unsheathed his sword, raising it to meet their sudden visitor.

  A man with long white hair and ebony skin stood behind them amongst the rubble of the manor, dressed completely in black. Dark eyes met hers, and when he smiled, it was like a sense of déjà vu settled over Eliza, like she knew him—and he her. It didn’t feel like the same sense she’d had when meeting Thorne; no, this was different, and for the most part, it unsettled her.

  “Who are you?” she asked softly, unable to raise her voice over the rain.

  The older man laughed softly, like how Eliza’s grandfather did when she asked silly questions. His dark eyes flashed; there was little humour to be found in them. “I am Henry Ivo, a Keeper from the east.”

  Eliza watched Thorne from the corner of her eye, saw the recognition on his face.

  “Shouldn’t you be at your Temple?” Eliza asked, uncrossing her arms. “A Keeper was killed recently, so you should be protecting the wards.”

  “I agree,” he replied, mildly amused. “But I am no longer the Keeper I was—my place has been taken by another, and I now do the bidding of the Gods.”

  It explained why ancient markings tattooed his skin, just noticeable under the cuffs of his coat and above the collar of his grey shirt. But Eliza didn’t understand why he was there with them, standing in the pouring rain. Had the Gods asked him to find them? Or was he there of his own volition?

  “Why are you here?” Her heart pounded in her chest. There was already one pesky God involved with her business; she didn’t need the others getting involved as well.

  She knew just how powerful a Keeper could be; her own grandfather had been offered many times to give up his position to join the Elders, the portal Keepers who had joined with the Gods. But Davis had always refused and wouldn’t give her a reason why. But he did tell her how powerful those Elders were.

  Henry Ivo only smiled. “I am here to help, Miss Kindall, as a favour to Davis.”

  “You know my grandfather?” Homesickness rushed through her. In that moment, she realised just how much she missed New Orleans; she missed the faded stars at night, and the smells of the French Quarter, and all the memories that clung to the old city.

  “Yes, I knew him very well.” The older man gestured to the inner ruins of the manor. “Would you two like to follow me? You are both very wet, and there is better cover farther in. I have much to tell you, as I have been waiting here for some time.”

  Behind her, Thorne grabbed her hand, but he didn’t pull her back; instead, he held on to it. She’d seen the recognition in the commander’s eyes, and he didn’t seem too co
ncerned with the Elder, which calmed her racing heart.

  The Elder summoned an orb of light, illuminating the wreckage of the manor. Within the ruins, Eliza could make out the remains of those who had been trapped in the flames, of those who could not escape. Henry Ivo led them farther into the darkness, until he came to a stop at an old set of stairs that led down into what could only be a cellar.

  “It is safe down here,” he said, sending the light into the cellar. “Just watch your step.”

  Eliza followed the old man down the stone stairs. Thorne, still grasping Eliza’s hand, went last, a small dagger now grasped in his free hand, poised and ready to strike.

  “So, you two found the ruins of Azula’s temple and her great city,” Henry mused, turning back to them on the last step. “Was it as magnificent as the scrolls describe?”

  “How did you know?” Eliza asked, releasing Thorne’s hand. “Neither of us knew anything until we ended up down there.”

  Henry smiled and gestured to some old chairs and a table, where a pot of steaming water waited, along with a jar of what could only be tea. It reminded her of home. “Please, take a seat, and I will explain to you what I know.”

  Eliza sat first, suddenly grateful for the chair and the warmth that came from the pot of tea. It took a moment before Thorne followed, taking the seat directly beside Eliza and inching closer to her.

  Henry poured three cups of steaming tea before continuing. “When one becomes an Elder, they are entrusted with scrolls older than registered time. In those scrolls there are legends and truth, especially about Azula and her offspring, and the temples, cities, and sacred lands that were dedicated to her. One of those sacred spaces was an underground city completely dedicated to the Goddess, with her children ruling over it.”

  Children. Thorne had mentioned one child. Now Eliza understood why Azula and her Faery lover had chosen this place to give that child up.

  “How come Amitel didn’t try the portal? Or any of the other Keepers?” she asked.

  Henry’s silver brows shot up in surprise. “Because no one asked the maze.”

  Thorne leaned forward; lips pulled down in a frown. “And you didn’t think to tell the king that the maze might have been used as an escape route?”

  The old Keeper sighed. “We Elders do not fall into Cadiran politics. Even if I had wanted to help, I couldn’t have. This is beyond me, beyond the other Elders. We do not get involved.”

  “Until now?” Eliza sat back, crossing her arms.

  “You must understand,” Henry said, pausing to sip his tea. “The Elders take their work seriously. The fact that I am here at all is more than the Elder Council is willing to offer concerning this mission. We only give aid in true crises. The matter of a stolen prince is, well I’m sorry to put it this way, beneath us. The king has another heir.”

  “Why wasn’t this other heir ever an option?” Eliza asked. Thorne shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

  The commander spared the Elder a glance before shaking his head. “It’s complicated. King Bastian’s last heir is… not here, with us.”

  Eliza furrowed her brow. “That makes no sense.”

  “That is the way of the world,” Henry replied. “It is not what is important.”

  Eliza released a breath and scrubbed at her eyes. “What now? What will the Elders do with us?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Henry placed his cup down on the table with a shake of his head. “Until this issue is resolved with whoever is controlling these demons—the leader—nothing. You’ve violated no laws.”

  Eliza cocked a brow, heart hammering. “So, there is someone calling the shots.”

  “We’ve believed that was the case for some time, but there has never been any proof,” Thorne said, leaning forward in his seat to wrap his hands around his cup. “No sightings, no proclamations. This dictator seems to be letting his minions do all of the work while he sits back and barks orders.”

  She wanted to ask why he’d never told her, but she held her tongue. Something about Henry stopped her from speaking up. Thorne was already keeping things from her. She didn’t need him to close off completely.

  “Exactly,” Henry agreed, taking another sip. “And if that is the case, then we must believe that whomever this is knows what we know and more.”

  Eliza fidgeted with a loose string on her tunic, mouth suddenly dry. A leader. Of course, there was someone barking orders, but she just hadn’t added them to the ever-expanding equation. “So, there’s a chance that this is an Elder gone rogue,” Eliza speculated. “An Elder who enjoyed power and wanted more of it maybe?”

  Grim faced, the old Keeper nodded. “Yes, it is a likely possibility. Our compound has had no intrusions, and it is unlikely they found the city by chance. We have determined that someone in our ranks is responsible.”

  “I did,” Eliza stated. “I was told about the possibility, and I asked the maze.”

  “And that,” Henry replied, smiling, “is where you two are different. The maze gave you that information because it believed you could help. But whoever found it and used those passages to smuggle the prince out of this manor did not seek its help, nor did the maze give it willingly.”

  “They put the maze to sleep. Because of that, they could gain access,” Eliza said.

  “Indeed.” Henry took another sip of his tea, then set it to the side. “I am here to help you, Elizabeth Kindall, not only because it is my duty as an Elder, but it is my duty as a former Keeper under the king’s rule.”

  For a moment, Eliza stayed silent, as Thorne did beside her. She stared down at her tea, searching it for answers she knew she’d never receive. Could she trust this man with the information she thought she had? Could she risk anyone else for their cause, have their deaths on her hands?

  Uncertainty flooded Eliza, as did a disturbing chill that had not been left by the rain. As if sensing her unease, Thorne rested his hand on her thigh beneath the table, forcing her gaze to his. In the storms of his eyes, she could see every emotion she felt mirrored; the unease and uncertainty, the fear that if they placed their trust in another it would be betrayed. Eliza wanted to see the logic in whether it would be smart to trust the Elder, but she couldn’t be sure, not anymore. She reached out with her magic, feeling for his own, but felt only the unfamiliarity of it.

  Clearing her throat, Eliza turned back to the Elder. Nothing in his eyes gave away his intentions. And yet, Eliza still felt unsure about him.

  Standing from her seat, she held out her hand. “Thank you for your time, your knowledge, and your tea, but we will have to respectfully decline your offer of aid, as Commander Thorne and I have our leads. And you must be extremely busy as it is. I would hate to take you away from your work for the kingdom.”

  Before he could say anything to sway her judgement, Eliza left the cellar with Thorne by her side, and she did not look back.

  15

  THE DARK MASTER

  When they left Henry Ivo in the skeleton of the Spring Manor, it had stopped raining. Eliza and Thorne had gone straight to the neighbouring town, only to find it deserted. Tumbleweeds had been rolling through the streets—like an old Western, Eliza thought—but there had been no proof that anyone had stepped foot in the town for almost twenty years.

  By chance, they’d found their horses in the stables of the old farm couple they had stumbled upon; fed, brushed down, safe. Like they’d been gone for a couple of hours, and not a week. It had only taken them a moment to load their bags in the eerie silence and then they were gone, determined not to leave another mark on the town.

  “What do you think?” Eliza asked, guiding her horse around the commander, grimacing. Eliza hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something had changed between them after going down into the tunnels, and even voicing her fears now sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “Do you think it’s possible that something else is out there? Watching us?”

  “This is Cadira,” he said finally, slowing the pace of his nick
ering horse. “Eyes are everywhere; I’d be surprised if we weren’t.”

  Eliza noticed his gaze go to the forest, fenced off by a ravine of crystal blue water. The barrier between them and the creatures that dwelled within the Fae Territory.

  Someone in her bloodline had come from there. Almost subconsciously, she reached up and touched the points of her ears. Yeah, because that’s normal. Some part of her didn’t want to care about that, but… Eliza looked over to the legendary Willican forest and stared into the emerald depths of the trees, gazing upon the strange ruby and sapphire coloured flowers that blossomed amongst the branches.

  The forest that protected the Faery realm remained untouched by the greedy hands of the mortal kings and queens that ruled Cadira. The only way in—and out—was a direct invitation from the Faery King himself, and Eliza understood how rare that would be. Even if she wanted to locate her bloodline, she had a hard time believing that would happen.

  Maybe Bastian knows. The thought popped into her head before she could brush it aside, before she could extinguish that small flare of hope that arose with the thought.

  She tried not to let the thought get to her; what would happen if she did learn more about her past? Were her parents alive? Dead? Did she have family in Cadira and the Fae territory?

  Continuing to watch the forest, Eliza almost didn’t notice a dark figure standing just behind the tree line, surrounded by an army of woodland creatures. Deer with antlers that held nests with beautiful green birds, and bears with fur as brown as bark and horns shaped like twigs. Squirrels, bluebirds and other animals emerged from the trees too, all enchanted by the strange magic that dwelled within the territory.

  The Fae Knight stood silently among them, the raven perched on his shoulder. One hand rested atop a sword’s hilt, while the other clutched something else, something white. Paper. Although he wore his helmet, Eliza could see the brightness of his eyes as they followed her down the king’s road. The raven, too, watched their slow parade.