The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  “I’m a Blood Witch?” Eliza asked, voice cracking. “How?”

  Kay swallowed. “I cannot give you the details, kid, but you need to trust the power that is flowing through your veins. You are far more powerful than you think. I know that, and most importantly, so do you. The Dark Master has been underestimating you. He thinks because of how you were raised you are no match for him. But that is not true. You and I both know that. So, prove him wrong.”

  This time, the determination that Eliza felt wasn’t forced. It rippled through her, heating her blood. It gave way to that power she had been sitting on, power that belonged to her.

  Pain shot through her head once again, a voice penetrating her dream.

  Wake up! it screamed. The words shuddered through her, sending her to the ground again.

  Eliza looked up. “I’m waking up. You need to tell me what to do!”

  Kay and Celia shared a look. “Start delving into the magic that’s in your blood. That is all you need,” Celia said, kneeling beside her. “Use that power. And use that other power of yours, too. It will be useful. Thorne is on his way. He should almost be there. Get to him, okay?”

  Eliza nodded, casting a glance over her home, before reality struck her once again.

  Eliza awoke.

  Darkness filled what she assumed was her cell; it was thick and tense, filled with the sounds of rattling chains and the moans of the dead. Dirt and rocks dropped from above, spilling to the ground beneath her.

  Eliza pulled at her arms, groaning as they strained against shackles.

  “You will die here,” a voice whispered beside her. She jumped, straining her arms again, grunting as skin broke at her wrists. “You must get out.”

  A face appeared beside her. Shallow cheeks and hollow eyes, the spirit watched her with a cocked head and a lipless frown. His bony fingers swiped uselessly at her bonds.

  “You want to help me?” she asked, quietly, releasing a breath. He nodded. “What should I do?”

  Fear crossed the spirit’s face. “I have been here too long.”

  “Here?” Eliza pulled at her restraints again. Her energy was low, leaving her dizzy. She could just feel the power in her blood, but something was stopping it. It sent her stomach rolling. “Where are we?”

  “We are in the mountain of Mesah,” he whispered, face uncomfortably close once again. “In the caves. Where my people were once enslaved with the Elves.”

  Her brows furrowed, and she tried again to break through her restraints. She called upon the magic that lay dormant in her veins and grunted when it didn’t respond.

  “If I don’t get free, more will die too. You need to help me, so I can help you.”

  The spirit looked down at his misshapen hands. But his head shot up and he disappeared, reappearing a moment later with a dull look in his translucent eyes. “It’s too late,” he moaned, head in his hands. “They’re coming for you.”

  Eliza closed her eyes, feeling defeat begin to weigh down on her. The cell seemed almost emptier now, without the spirit or Celia and Kay helping her.

  Light pierced through the darkness, blinding her. She ducked her head and squinted as three soldiers entered the cramped cave that served in holding her.

  As her eye’s adjusted, Eliza was able to take everything in; three soldiers stood over her, the shadows of demons flickering beyond the door. There were four skeletons across from her, and spiders covering every inch of the ceiling. The soldiers were dressed in black, cloth covering the mouths, leaving their red-ringed black eyes as the only feature Eliza could see. Every other inch of their bodies were covered in fabric, all of it black.

  In the light, she could also see herself better, and noticed then that all her weapons and her satchel were missing from her body.

  Eliza shuddered, and waited with narrowed eyes as the soldiers took their time in unshackling her from the restraints above her head.

  She fell to the ground in a heap and held her wrists to herself. Sticky blood coated her fingers and stung with every touch. In her satchel, she had stored bandages and salve, but without knowing where any of that was…

  The soldiers grabbed her arms and she hissed in pain as they shackled her once again. They pulled her arms behind her back and clamped the manacles down on her wrists, tighter than before. She was forced to her feet and pushed towards the door, amongst the horde of demons.

  Two soldiers held her at all times, while another brought up the rear. Two more appeared before them, heading their party as they manoeuvred their way through the old slave tunnels.

  The ceiling was high and dusted with cobwebs and hanging cells. Skeletons swayed in a forgotten breeze. A memory flashed behind Eliza’s eyes, of her dream and the hanging bodies.

  Around them were indents in the walls, where cells were located. With a press of a hand, a door would open. Old magic kept the cells closed. Old magic kept her restrained.

  Sconces with lit torches scattered the walls, illuminating their way; the light danced off the red-dirt walls, giving them a bloody glow. The light only just reached the ceiling above them, where Eliza could still see the ancient dead. Demons watched from above, too, dancing between the bodies and the cells. There were over a hundred just above her, waiting for their next meal.

  Eliza supressed a shudder.

  The tunnel opened into a cave so big it put the Winter Palace to shame; the ceiling was twice as high as the tunnel, with stalactites hanging from above. More demons crowded around those, hanging from the dripping rock. Columns reached the sky, and the stone-floor fell into nothingness near the far wall. The walls were the same red rock; skeletons scattered the round walls, with the occasional torch bringing light to the spacious room.

  A single man stood in the centre of the room, back to Eliza. A hood covered his head, and with his hands clasped behind his back, Eliza could feel the power that emanated from him.

  The soldiers stopped her no more than ten feet away from the man and unshackled her.

  “Thank you.” Eliza recognised the low and demanding voice of the man in front of her. “Eliza, Eliza, Eliza.” Though it had deepened, the way he said her name was the same.

  Heart thundering, Eliza blanched as he turned and dropped his hood. The smile she’d grown so used to was the same; eyes a brilliant green in the dim light of the cavern. But the way he looked at her… that was what made her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.

  This wasn’t the same man she had watched the stars with or had kissed.

  Eliza gave an angry shake of her head and looked away. “How could I have been so naïve and stupid as to trust you?” she whispered. “Everything was a lie, wasn’t it?”

  Dorin shrugged, head cocked. “Well, it wasn’t all a lie.”

  “Why?” She shook her head, breath catching in her throat, panic seizing her. “Why do it?”

  “Well, if you’re asking why I betrayed you, then that’s easy: I was never on your side.”

  Despite the assassins at her back and the warning in her blood, Eliza stepped towards him. “Who are you really?”

  Dorin stepped up so that they were a breath apart. For a moment, she thought she saw remorse flicker in his eyes.

  His voice was a whisper as he pressed closer, hot breath fanning her cheek. “Don’t you get it, Eliza? I’m the lost prince.”

  35

  POWER OF THE ECIX

  Eliza closed her eyes as Dorin—Alicsar’s—laugh pierced through the strange quiet of the cavern. Through his bouts of laughter, she could hear the thrumming of her own heart in her ears. It was enough to remind her who she was trapped with.

  She wanted to curse herself for being so stupid, to allow her feelings for him to cloud her judgement. The fierce burn of her cheeks forced her to look him in the eye. “Was anything real? Or did you use magic?”

  “Love potions aren’t real,” he said, “but compliancy ones are.” Before she could step away, his lips were on hers, locking her into place. His hands gripped her forearm
s tight enough to make her gasp, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  For a moment, she could almost forget the betrayal and the pain caused by his hands.

  But there was no warmth in his kiss, not like there had been in those few days where she had believed in something more.

  Suddenly, she remembered the masquerade, the dark magic that had hit her during the attack. Before it, she’d been worried about who Dorin was. But she had started to trust him.

  No. She’d been spelled into trusting him.

  Eliza pulled away first, shoving him back with what limited magic she had. Something flashed in his eyes as a smirk formed on his lips.

  “You want to know how you couldn’t tell.” His voice dripped disdain. “You haven’t figured it out, yet?”

  Eliza’s jaw clenched as she looked him over, the magic in her blood singing. Now that she could feel that raw connection, the pureness of her own power thrumming in her veins, she could see the lines of Blood Magic that snaked through him. “You were using Blood Magic this whole time, weren’t you? You were using an illusion to hide yourself. No one ever saw the real you.”

  “Well,” he murmured, devilish grin widening, “everyone but you. I just wanted to know if you would see what was standing right in front of you.” Blood pounded in Eliza’s ears as he circled her. She spied a sword strapped to his back, the knives along his chest. “I don’t blame you for not recognising me, though.” He grinned again. “I do take after my mother. However, I did use an illusion against you at the Winter Palace. Remember Duke Irvington?”

  Eliza’s stomach twisted.

  Alicsar grinned. “Me.”

  She looked up with a shake of her head, meeting his stare. “What game are you playing, Alicsar?”

  Behind her, Eliza felt a surge of power as spirits rose from their restless sleep. Her fingers curled with the magic in her blood.

  Alicsar slipped behind her. “Oh, no game. I only want one thing: the throne.”

  Eliza didn’t move. “You already have the throne.” Irritation swelled within her, stopping the fear and panic from rising any further. “Do you have any idea as to how long King Bastian has been looking for you? He wants you back because he loves you. He has no other heirs, and he doesn’t want anyone else. He wants you to take the throne when he steps down.”

  The lost prince circled her until he was before her again. Eliza watched every movement, aware that it wouldn’t end well for her if she moved. There were still demons above her, shadow soldiers behind her, potentially an entire army at her feet.

  “Why do you think I’ve been tracking you?” Eliza continued. “Not because I want to. I’ve seen the destruction caused by the Dark Master, and how it’s affecting the king. He needs his son.”

  The smile had disappeared from his face, but it reappeared as soon as she finished. “Bravo. You can act, I will give you that.”

  Eliza released an exasperated breath, clenching her jaw as he circled her again.

  “Why do you think I want to be given anything? I can take the throne.”

  Finally, she threw her hands up. “Why? Because the Dark Master told you to?”

  His face darkened, and he stepped up, eyes glancing her up and down. “You do not know anything about the war that is brewing. And you have no idea what your role is, either.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, her stare meeting his evenly. “I came to Cadira to do a job. If it happens to be a lost cause, then Bastian can’t really blame me for that.”

  The prince smiled. “You know, I am the reason Celia fell ill.”

  Eliza’s heart stopped in her chest before it started thundering. “Why?”

  If she died… What would she do? The dark side of her wanted blood for the pain he caused her. She didn’t recognise that side.

  “Well, she was a threat for starters.” Alicsar shrugged without remorse. “I knew she’d be able to see through the illusion eventually, being a Blood Witch and all. Oh, you didn’t know that? Shame. Not to mention, if something were to happen to Commander Brandon Thorne’s last link to his one true love, then I knew he would rush to her side, no matter how he feels about you.”

  Taking a step back, Eliza’s hands trembled. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity. “What are you talking about?”

  Cruelness marked his face in the twist of his lips. “You don’t see it? Then again, I managed to get you all to myself in just a couple of hours. Too easy.”

  Frustrated tears burned behind Eliza’s eyes. “Stop.”

  Alicsar laughed again. “The commander has been in love with you this entire time, and you threw that in his face by choosing me. Hopefully, that slows him down enough to give me what I want.”

  “He isn’t—”

  “Oh, but he is.” Alicsar stopped in front of her and cupped her cheeks. She tried to pull away, but his grip was strong. “Why do you think he started turning away? He could see how you felt about me, and it killed him.”

  “What do you really want?” she asked.

  Just a little longer.

  Like Celia had told her, Eliza delved into the power that slumbered within her, stroking at it with hesitant fingers before grasping onto it.

  Magic rushed through her, powering through the scrapes on her wrists, encircling her.

  Alicsar’s eyes crinkled, as if he were going to smile, but he snapped his fingers. Behind her, the sound of someone being dragged through the sand hit her, just as her fear snapped. Eliza’s heart dropped into her stomach.

  The prince gave her a wide smile. “I’d like you to meet my number one spy through all of this.”

  A body landed in the dirt behind her. Eliza turned.

  “Amitel?” Her mouth went dry as she stared down at the blond-haired Warlock. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and blood dripped from his lips. In his stomach was a knife, blood spilling onto the sand.

  Alicsar stepped up beside her and touched her cheek. She flinched. “Ah, yes, he was very faithful for some time. Led all my father’s soldiers in all the wrong directions when they went looking for me.”

  Eliza dragged her eyes away from Amitel’s bloody stomach and met the prince’s devilish gaze. “Are you the Dark Master?”

  He grinned. “Unfortunately, no. Nor do I know his true identity. Amitel doesn’t either, before you ask.”

  With a nod from Alicsar, a soldier stepped forward and twisted the knife in Amitel’s stomach.

  The Warlock did not cry out, nor did he utter a sound. Eliza could see the pain in his eyes but couldn’t see fear. Those beautiful eyes of his remained emotionless as he gazed up at her.

  Eliza dropped to her knees in front of him as something inside her snapped, like a wick igniting. Her hands shook, and despite herself, she wanted to help him. Grimacing, Eliza met his stare, and pulled the knife from his body. She felt the blood stick to her fingers as she dropped it to the sand, keeping it in her line of sight. With her other hand, she quickly covered the wound, pressing down. Her fingers grew warm with the feel of his blood—and with the magic that started building in her veins.

  Behind her, Alicsar growled in irritation, but she ignored him. Amitel had been right, the sands lie.

  He’d said it to her, had left the warning for her. He had been the one urging her to use Blood magic. He was preparing me.

  “You should not underestimate him.” Amitel coughed, blood sputtering from his white lips.

  Eliza cocked her head and with a calmness she did not feel, she said, “He should not underestimate me.”

  Soon, one of the spirits seemed to tell her. Soon you will be saved.

  I no longer need saving, she replied. I am my own saviour.

  The magic she harboured in her veins flared like electricity, filling her with a familiar warmth she relished in. That power she had once feared snapped at her fingertips, mingling with the blood that covered her hands.

  “You have so much compassion for one who has lied to you.” Alicsar shook his head in disdain.

  S
he looked up at him with narrowed eyes. There it was again, that flash of emotion. Hurt? Eliza couldn’t be sure. Did he feel betrayed knowing Eliza would help Amitel despite everything?

  Eliza shrugged. “I have a hero complex, unfortunately. ‘Everyone can be saved’ and all that crap. Benefits of living in modern New Orleans.”

  Keeping the knife in her line of sight, Eliza stood. The prince crossed his arms over his chest, face pinched in disinterest.

  “I’ve been told much about you. That power you have, the one you used to reanimate my soldiers? That’s why you’re here.”

  Heart pounding, Eliza straightened. “Finally, some answers.”

  “I need you, that power, to help me continue building my army.” He spread his arm out towards the drop in the cavern. Eliza swallowed thickly and walked towards it, to see it with her own eyes.

  Rows upon rows of masked soldiers filled the cavern below her, spanning in all directions. They were motionless, as if in a state of slumber.

  Behind her, Alicsar continued, “They are neither dead, nor alive. I need you to give them life, give them purpose. I have used whatever Blood Magic I can to bring my own guard to life. Including all the ones you slaughtered.”

  Eliza shuddered; her illusions came to mind as they killed the shadow soldiers. He had set that up, with the hopes of dragging her to this exact spot for this reason. She had gotten away though, despite his best efforts. And he had tried to stop her again, by placing more guards in the tunnels. But she had stopped them too.

  But there were thousands of soldiers lined up below her. Thousands of misplaced spirits, hovering above their own flesh.

  An army that could surely go up against the King of Cadira, against the Fae and any who dared ally themselves with the kingdom.

  Eliza swallowed back her bile and stepped away, head spinning. “What does the Ecix have to do with any of this?” she asked softly.

  “The Ecix is an ancient power that has belonged to the Blood Witches for thousands of years,” he said. “It has started wars, and it has ended them.”