The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  He replied to her questioning look with a shake of his head. “I grew up in this city. I know it like the back of my hand. I will be fine, and you will be safe in the palace, with or without me.”

  Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Alright,” she said, huffing. “But the minute you suspect that something is wrong, or if the Dark Master is around with his creatures, then you better be back at the palace. And we need to be out of here. The longer we’re in one place…” she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

  The longer we’re in one place, the easier it’ll be for the Dark Master to find us and attack. She hated to think it, but it was true. Hopefully, he wouldn’t touch the capital.

  Thorne pursed his lips but gave a tight nod. “Let’s get you to the palace first and go from there, okay?”

  ~

  As the sky darkened, Eliza and Thorne quickened their pace through the bustling, maze-like streets. They didn’t stop to marvel at the storefronts or relish the freshly cooked Cadiran delicacies from the street vendors. Eliza didn’t even get the chance to take in the sights, as Thorne made it clear that they had to make it to the palace before nightfall. So, they rushed towards the sun-bathed palace, leaving the city in their wake.

  The process of entering proved to be far easier than she thought it would. The anxiety of being turned away ate at her insides. She wondered if maybe the king would even let her stay, after what had happened at the Winter Palace; would he blame her for the attack and wish her gone?

  Sucking in a breath, Eliza lifted her chin when the guards called her forward. “Name?” one asked, tall and heavily built, like Thorne.

  “Elizabeth Kindall. I am here to seek an audience with the king, who should be waiting for me.” The words tumbled from her with a kind of strength she didn’t know she had. She almost smiled at the wariness that passed over the guard’s eyes.

  Instead of turning her away, the guard before her called a runner over—a lithe girl with red braids—who took the message and ran towards the palace, hopefully to the king.

  The palace was not what she’d expected, but it was everything she had dreamed it would be. Spires of glass and white stone lifted the sky, the stained-glass creating rainbows despite the dreary weather. Every part of the palace’s exterior made it look like a gothic cathedral and a whimsical fairy-tale palace had a child.

  It took all of twenty minutes before a young man arrived, an easy smile on his handsome face. “The king will see Miss Elizabeth Kindall.”

  Eliza released a grateful sigh and ushered her horse forward, which was quickly taken away by another guard, who skilfully removed her gathered belongings and handed it over to an awaiting servant. Eliza watched with an open mouth as that servant rushed off in the direction of the palace, leaving Eliza with Thorne and the young man.

  Turning to the commander, Eliza pursed her lips. “You might as well join me for the interrogation, Commander.”

  Despite the less than enthusiastic look in his face, Thorne forced a small smile onto his lips, and nodded.

  A look passed between the on-duty guards, but they said nothing as Thorne handed the reins of his horse to another stable boy, stressing the importance that his belongings should be left with the steed, completely untouched.

  Eliza and Thorne followed the young man past the wall of the palace and into the expansive courtyard. Hedges of bright green lined the cobblestone path they walked. Eliza spotted a well-dressed woman with a parasol in one hand, dressed in swaths of gold and sapphire and onyx that swallowed her whole, and a menagerie of servants trailing behind her. It reminded Eliza grimly of her dirty clothes and unwashed body.

  When they were close to the entrance, Eliza stopped, brows furrowing. Halting the commander, she pointed at a gold mound to her left. “What is that?”

  Thorne barked a laugh, while the young man stared at her, dumbfounded. “That’s the Cadiran Protector!”

  “What’s the ‘Cadiran Protector’?” she asked, frowning.

  “A myth,” Thorne said, just as the man replied with, “A dragon!”

  Eliza took in the young man’s lean physique and the sandy ashen hair that brushed his bronze neck. He was handsome in a classical way, different to Thorne, she thought. The young man’s eyes were a startling emerald in colour, a much different shade to Eliza’s. He wasn’t as broad as Thorne either, though beneath the grey-knit sweater there was a toughness to him that reminded Eliza of her companion.

  Eliza’s brows shot up as she turned back to the commander. Thorne, exasperated, shook his head. The man’s grin was wide and excited, and his green eyes only brightened at Eliza’s obvious lack of knowledge.

  “A mythical dragon?” Eliza crossed her arms over her chest, fidgeting. “I thought Cadira didn’t have anything to do with dragons?” She directed her question to Thorne, but it was the man who replied, smile broadening still.

  “During the Great War,” the man said, “Cadira was desperate for allies. Which included getting help from the Dragon Riders of Laziroth.”

  Eliza couldn’t help but smile in return, if only because she found his excitement infectious. The young man grabbed her hand, his fingers warm as they circled around her wrist. He dragged her towards the monolithic creature, bringing her around to its side so they could see the creature’s full size.

  The size of a blue whale, the dragon took up a large portion of the palace’s front garden. Its sleeping figure was mostly obscured by towering hedges and a smattering of crystal-leaved trees.

  The entire creature was gold, Eliza realised, almost like the body of the dragon had literally been dripped in a pool of liquid gold. She could make out clearly the veins in the beast’s wings, and the slit of its eyelids. Every scale was refined and detailed, the claws looking like they could still rip a body apart.

  Swallowing thickly, Eliza unconsciously reached out a hand.

  Don’t.

  Eliza snatched her hand back. “This is really cool,” she said, heart racing. “Which king commissioned it?”

  “It wasn’t made,” the man said, still excited and completely unaware of the way Eliza’s breathing had become unsteady. “A thousand years ago, this dragon actually protected Cadira from the forces of Valonde.”

  She directed a questioning gaze to Thorne, and he explained, “Valonde no longer exists. It disappeared beneath the ocean a thousand years ago when the Lazirothian Dragons and Cadiran Warlocks sentenced it to destruction. The war they waged was… it was terrible, the ancient texts say.”

  “Wow.” Something inside her mind squeezed at a memory, a memory of endless oceans and the screams of people.

  Remember.

  Eliza shook her head. Remember what? She knew little of Valonde, of the war and what happened.

  Thorne shrugged, his eyes on her. Something in his features darkened. “It isn’t something that is taken lightly. The war killed hundreds-of-thousands, and it still hurts many to speak about it. An entire civilisation vanished. It’s not something we commemorate normally.”

  “So, why memorialise the dragon?” Eliza asked. “Why not do something else?”

  The young man replied, “Because if it weren’t for this dragon, we wouldn’t have won. She was the king’s personal advisor and friend and risked everything to bring Valonde down. She fell, right here, just like this.” The man looked at the creature with admiration. “The king had a Blood Witch come down from the mountains and turn her to gold.”

  Eliza’s blood ran cold. A Blood Witch? She hadn’t realised that her hands had started shaking.

  “My mother told me stories about it.” The young man sighed wistfully. “I don’t remember much. In Mesah they don’t tell these stories often.”

  The young man’s eyes were on the dragon, but his fists were clenched. What he’d said stuck with Eliza, even as Thorne placed a hand on her arm and said, “We should go see the king.”

  Eliza almost jumped out of her skin, yet her gaze stayed on the young man. She couldn’t help but be intrigued
over him. His eyes had darkened as he looked between the commander and her. But he shook his head and began leading them to the palace entrance.

  Around them, guards began changing shifts, while servants bustled around the palace with work to do. Night now seemed to send a wave of silence over the palace and the capital.

  Yet, even as they walked through the white-stone doors and into the front landing, Eliza couldn’t stop thinking about the golden dragon, or the reappearance of the Blood Witches in Cadiran history.

  The raven hadn’t made an appearance since the troll bridge, and it half surprised her; mentions of the Goddess and the Blood Witches seemed to be following her on this journey of hers, but she couldn’t quite connect the dots.

  ~

  The king looked at Eliza and the commander with heavy lidded eyes, though she didn’t dare try and seek out her companion as she slipped into an awkward bow. Bastian wore a robe; she hadn’t even considered that he might have been otherwise occupied when they’d arrived, but she was grateful that he’d chosen to meet with her straight away rather than putting off the meeting for the following day.

  “The last I saw you, Eliza, you were escaping into the night like a phantom,” he said, voice tired. His dark eyes roamed over her, though not in a way that made her uncomfortable. His eyes never lingered where they shouldn’t, and his gaze found hers almost immediately after. “I had thought perhaps that you had run away. Then you were spotted at the spring manor.”

  Eliza swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. King Bastian motioned for them to enter the room; it looked like a parlour, or a tearoom, though Eliza didn’t know the difference. She called it the tearoom, since a round woman with greying red hair settled a silver tray on a small table between her and the king. A teapot steamed, smelling of mint.

  Armchairs faced a fireplace, while a deep burgundy rug, worn with age, covered the white stone floor. Windows behind Eliza looked out over gardens, though not the dragon. A fire roared in the hearth, warming the room enough to make Eliza sweat.

  She shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer, and cast a wary glance to the commander. The king knew she could see spirits, but Thorne didn’t, and the longer she kept it from him, the harder it became for her.

  “The day of the attack, I spoke with Commander Thorne and asked for his help in locating the Warlock, Amitel,” she said, mouth suddenly dry. “The commander offered to help me. When the attack happened, I thought they were coming for me, because of the mission, and the commander got me out.”

  The king watched her carefully. “Many died that day.”

  Tears of shame and guilt burned behind her eyes. “I know. I wanted to stay and fight but—”

  “I forced her to leave, Majesty,” Thorne said, bowing his head. “I believed it would be safer if she got out under the cover of the attack.”

  King Bastian nodded, though he didn’t look like he was paying attention to the details. “Have you found anything?”

  “I met with Amitel. He gave me all the information he had, and then we went to the Spring Manor.” Eliza cupped her hands around a cup of mint tea, though she felt no urge to take a sip. She took comfort from the warmth. “There was an underground city, and a tunnel which we believe was used to carry your son out. But I cannot tell you where. I don’t want to put you or anyone else in anymore danger.”

  “Danger.” The king scoffed, rolling his eyes.

  Eliza set her cup down. “Please, Your Majesty, you’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you it’s best you don’t know.” She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Time to tell him the worst part. “I think the attack on the Winter Palace was orchestrated by the same person who stole the prince and sought me out twelve years ago. And I think they’re hunting me now. Their leader might be going by the name ‘Dark Master’. There was an attack at the troll bridge, where the trolls came after me.”

  The king watched her with dark eyes. “They could be unrelated,” he said, but sighed in defeat. “But you do have a point. The attack on the palace was only the beginning. I thought perhaps taking you there and meeting with the army might ward off any chance of attack, but I was wrong.”

  She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary, but I do need to ask something of you.”

  “And what might that be?”

  This time, Thorne answered, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maps. We ran into Elder Ivo at the Spring Manor and found out that the Elders have access to resources that we might need to find the prince. We need you to ask for these resources.”

  “The Elders will not help,” the king said, dismissive.

  Eliza blanched. “Please. We need those maps.”

  She wasn’t sure what it was that clicked inside the king’s mind, but she saw the resolution before he uttered a word. “Alright. I cannot make any promises, but I will send word. I do not know if they will answer this request.” He closed his eyes, weariness settling over his strong features. “What is it that you need?”

  17

  UNFOLDING MYSTERIES

  Pale, white light filtered through the cracks between the gold drapes, bathing Eliza’s room in a magical glow that could only be achieved by mid-morning sunlight. A tired groan escaped her lips as she rolled over in her bed, smothering her face in her pillows. For the first time since arriving in Cadira, she had managed to sleep without jerking awake from nightmares or being roused by Thorne. There were no slithering snakes or pesky pixies forcing her from blissful darkness.

  All was peaceful, and she lay in the warmth provided by the heavy duck-feather duvet, unbothered by Thorne’s snoring or the whining of their horses.

  But nothing was simple, she knew, because she still had a mission to complete, and a prince to find, and a past to uncover.

  That last thought, she understood, would unfortunately have to wait.

  Eliza rolled over again and climbed out of the bed. She stretched her arms over her head, hearing the joints in her back and shoulders crack. Oh, how she enjoyed sleeping in a comfortable bed. Nothing compared to it.

  But it didn’t stop her stomach from churning. Thorne had left as soon as they’d been released by King Bastian. The commander had walked her to her room but had left as quickly as he could. He hadn’t even left her an address for his apartment in the city.

  Outside her window, birds sang. Eliza dragged her feet to the balcony and threw the doors open, wincing as the frigid air hit her. “Winter,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as goose bumps rose along her arms. “Right. Cold.”

  As she turned, Eliza caught sight of sandy-blonde hair and the broad, tall frame of the handsome young man from the day before. He hurried across the courtyard, an easy, wide smile on his face. He looked to be wearing palace clothing, though she wasn’t sure.

  She couldn’t turn away, and as if sensing her, the young man looked up to her balcony.

  Heat flooded Eliza’s cheeks as she waved awkwardly in his direction before disappearing back into her room. She slapped a hand to her forehead and shook her head. Good work. You made yourself look like an idiot.

  Eliza bathed and dressed quickly, all the while wondering if Thorne would find her. But as she brushed her wet, tangled hair, and pulled on her boots, she wondered if she should bother waiting around. Surely there was something she could do without him.

  A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. She hurriedly tied the laces of her boots and stumbled to the door, flinging it open to reveal a green-clad messenger. They—beneath a large cap and caterpillar eyebrows, Eliza wasn’t sure if it was a man or a woman—handed a note to Eliza and disappeared down the hall.

  Her shoulder’s slumped, disappointment flooding her. She bit her lip as she read the note:

  Eliza,

  I will be following a lead today. It would be safer if you remained at the palace. The city is crawling with demons.

  Thorne

  She huffed. Crumpling the note into
a ball, she threw it into the corner of the room before leaning back against the wall. What am I supposed to do? She couldn’t just sit still; her blood thrummed with the need to do something to help. Knowing Thorne was out there looking for answers, leaving her to sit back in the palace, made her stomach twist. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay in her room all day.

  With that resolve, she left her rooms in search of answers.

  Servants rushed through the halls, though none made eye contact with Eliza as she slipped down to the main floor of the palace. From there, she had no idea what to do; the gardens were easy to access but every time the doors to the palace opened a wave of frigid air swept through the foyer. The giant chandelier above Eliza’s head rattled every time, like a warning. It gave her enough time to step out of the blast zone.

  Several guards dressed in silver plated armour with shoulder capes and polished spears passed Eliza without sparing her a glance. Somewhere wedged in the tight formation, she heard giggling, and saw the plume of a feather sprouting from the centre.

  Nobility. Eliza rolled her eyes and headed in the opposite direction of the procession. Pointed arch windows lined one wall down the hall, looking out over a small courtyard hidden by stone walls and vines. There were prettily dressed ladies in gowns of emerald-green with skirts that looked like tents, heavy cloaks, and white gloves. From the window, Eliza could see their breaths.

  She sighed and put her back to the wall, feeling the chill of winter seeping through the stone.

  Where is your sense of adventure? She could almost hear Kay’s voice inside her head. She could almost imagine her guardian standing beside her with a wicked grin, leading Eliza farther into the palace.

  Her stomach churned with the image; shaking her head, Eliza pushed off the wall and continued walking, eyeing the arched corridor with wonder. Light from the fixtures in the walls cast the ceiling in shadows, giving the creatures that dwelled in the darkness—several floating pixies, who peered down at Eliza with wide, unblinking black eyes—malicious features and dark expressions.