She grabbed it and hugged it to her chest, breathing in heavily. The smells of home hit her; Kay’s lavender perfume, her own coffee-scented candles, Davis’ musky aftershave, and the smell of New Orleans itself.
“I thought you’d like that,” he said. “It always made you feel safe.”
Eliza nodded and sniffed, forcing the tears back. She carefully placed the pillow on the bed, and began rifling through the rest of the box; her books, including a dusty, dog-eared copy of Harry Potter, and an even more worn edition of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a set of battery operated fairy-lights still in their box, at least three candles, photos of herself and her family, and her favourite shirts.
“I couldn’t bring too much, of course,” Davis said, voice soft. “But I thought I might bring you some things to make this large, expensive room feel more like you.”
She smiled and nodded, but something tugged within her.
“Why was I taken to you? As a child, I mean. Why not here at the palace, or the Courts of Light? Or even the Fae Territories? Why New Orleans?”
Davis sighed and took a seat on the ottoman, setting the box on the floor and patting the seat beside him. “You were brought to me for protection. It was the only way to make sure you—and that power you possess—did not fall into the wrong hands.”
“Like the Dark Master’s.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, like his.”
“Why was I taken from the Blood Witches? They would have been able to protect me, right?” she asked, heart thundering in her chest. Did they really give her up because of the Dark Master? Or was there another reason? Although a large part of her didn’t really want to know, another part of her yearned to know about her past, about her heritage.
“It is…” Davis trailed off with a sigh.
“Complicated?” Eliza said, huffing. “It can’t be that complicated!”
Lips drawn in a thin line, Davis sent her a look of irritation, though she thought she saw a hint of a smile. “If you are determined to interrupt me and assume you know all, then by all means, you tell me what happened.”
“Alright,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I’ll shut up now.”
A tap sounded at the door, and an older woman stepped into the bedroom. Her dark eyes surveyed the white-marble walls and gold accents, and her blonde hair glowed in the white light streaming through the open windows.
“Miss Elizabeth,” the woman said, straightening. A polite smile crossed her face. “I will be helping you prepare for the upcoming celebrations.”
Eliza turned to her grandfather. “Celebrations? What celebrations?”
“The King has been… preparing since your last meeting. Nobody knows what is happening, but there will be an announcement about the prince’s return today.”
Groaning, Eliza ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “And why do I have to be there?”
Davis leant down and kissed her forehead. “Because you found the prince, silly girl. I do believe His Majesty will be rewarding you today as well.”
“The king requires you to be at his side,” the woman said. Eliza eyed her warily. “Celebrations begin in three hours.”
~
There were no clouds marring the beautiful blue sky of Cadira. The sun produced a warmth that left Eliza sweating slightly as she waited for the king and his son by the carriage. Both were, of course, late, but she stood with her back straight, and tried to keep her anxiety from showing.
Davis touched her shoulder lightly before giving it a squeeze, offering her a soft, encouraging smile. “You will be fine. Everything will be fine.”
She opened her mouth to reply, only to find her throat close up. Would she, though? Would she be fine? She didn’t even know what was happening. How could she be fine if she wasn’t even sure what she should be worried about?
The doors to the palace opened. Eliza’s heart stopped in her chest as she took in the approaching king and his son, both dressed in their finest. While King Bastian’s dark hair was swept back beneath a heavy gold crown encrusted with rubies and diamonds, Alicsar looked modest with his untidy hair, unadorned by any crown. The golden lapels of both their jackets glinted in the bright light of the day.
Her grandfather dropped into a bow, and Eliza followed, curtseying hesitantly.
Eliza’s dress, at least, was a thick material that managed to ward off the chills of winter. The high collar protected her throat, long sleeves covering her arms. Eliza couldn’t help but miss Mesah. The bottle-green gown had pockets, which Eliza shoved her hands into as soon as she could.
“Are we ready?” King Bastian stepped off the marble staircase. A valet draped a golden cloak around his shoulders.
Davis and Eliza straightened. “Of course, Majesty.” The valet opened the door to the carriage for the king and bowed at the waist again. Eliza waited until the king was seated, before taking her grandfather’s offered hand and entering the carriage. Behind her, Alicsar hesitated before following, taking the seat beside her.
The look Davis offered her seemed to say ‘I’ll be following you’ before closing the carriage door, locking her inside with her previous attempted murderer and the man who spawned it.
Eliza swallowed and winced as the carriage began moving.
“You look lovely,” Alicsar said, clearing his throat. He offered her a wry smile, his eyes bright. Red burned along his cheeks as he clasped his hands tightly in his lap.
She grimaced in return. He looked like the boy she had kissed, and not the one who had tried to kill her. It unsettled her. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
The prince’s smile wavered slightly, but he nodded his head and looked away.
The king, on the other hand, seemed to beam.
Silence ensued as their carriage took them to a large, open amphitheatre on the other side of the capital. Eliza hadn’t seen it on either of her trips into the city, but her new maid had pointed it out to her that morning, barely touched by the brightening rays of morning sunlight.
The chatter of people steadily grew louder the longer they rode. Beside her, Alicsar continued to hold his hands tightly, and whatever smile that had been on his face earlier had slipped away into a grim line of unease.
Some part of Eliza wanted to comfort him, but a stronger part of her kept her hands—and words—to herself.
When the carriage rolled to a stop, all the breath left Eliza in a single sigh. Here we go.
~
People of all ages, stations, and gender filled the amphitheatre; some were seated along the grand, sweeping staircases that lined the entire stadium, while others loitered on the ground in the front. At the top were huge boxes used by the nobility of Cadira, who were all present for the celebration.
Eliza sat with the king and Alicsar at the very front of the mass on a giant platform that looked out over the still growing crowd.
A whistle sounded and the crowd hushed. Her heart skipped a beat as all eyes drifted to them.
“Thank you, people of Cadira, for standing witness to a historic event!”
Absolute panic washed through her; Eliza wasn’t one for getting up in front of large crowds. She didn’t do theatre or public speaking. She had been home-schooled. No crowds save the dead—but they didn’t count.
Whatever it was that the king had planned for her, she was now certain that it couldn’t be good. Not when her stomach clenched, and she found a worried Celia standing in the crowd.
“We are gathered today to give thanks to a witch who set out to find the son who had been taken from me.”
Eyes snapped to Eliza, and when they had their fill, their eyes drifted to Alicsar, and lingered.
The prince didn’t look like his father. Though they both had similar heights and builds, Alicsar took after his mother; thick, sandy hair that brushed his chin and complimented his emerald eyes, classical features and a smile that could win a crowd over. His father had dark features and eyes that conveyed power, that held the audience in
the palm of his hand.
King Bastian stood, indicating for Alicsar to do the same. His son, sitting to his right, graciously stepped forward and gave the people of Cadira that winning smile, before offering Eliza a hand.
She hesitated for a heartbeat, but felt her grandfather’s steady presence behind her, felt him urge her forward. She wanted Thorne to be there, though. She wanted him to be by her side. She hadn’t done it alone, hadn’t been alone during the hunt.
Sucking in a breath, Eliza took Alicsar’s hand and stepped up with him.
The crowd erupted into applause, cheers spreading throughout the amphitheatre. Eliza stood there in rapt wonder as the people cried over the return of their lost prince, or as others chanted his name. She could just make out the faces of several little girls, all pointing to her with light dancing in their innocent eyes.
Eliza’s gaze went back to Celia, who stood amongst the thicket of people on the ground. No emotion danced across her face, and instead she eyed Alicsar, and then the king beside them.
Three women stood with Celia: blood-red cloaks drawn over their young faces. Eliza knew who they were—the women from the meeting with the king. Ones who claimed to know her. Was the king going to hand her over to the Blood Witches? Let her go with them to the Labyrinth Mountains? Looks of displeasure crossed their faces as they looked up at the king and Alicsar—at her.
Eliza dragged her eyes away from the circle of women, redirecting her gaze into the crowd.
“I would like to announce that my son will be my one and only heir to the throne!”
Alicsar’s hand tightened around hers as cheers continued to echo through the amphitheatre. She couldn’t blame him; her heart thundered in her chest at the same speed as the claps, and blood pounded in her ears.
The king paused for effect before the whistle sounded again, forcing the crowd into silence. “There will also be a royal wedding, to celebrate my son’s return, and to thank the witch who brought him back to his rightful home!”
Eliza’s heart dropped into her stomach, and the blood rushed from her face. A wedding.
Oh, Gods. Oh, Gods. She wasn’t being granted amnesty, or the chance to leave with the Blood Witches. She wasn’t even going back to New Orleans. Eliza had thought perhaps her reward would be her freedom. Her life. But this?
“To Alicsar and Elizabeth, may their union bring peace and hope,” King Bastian finished.
She wanted to pass out, or to run. Running sounds like a good idea. Her eyes slid to the prince, who looked as stunned and unprepared as she did.
Shocked murmurs and excited cheers rippled through the crowd. Eliza’s stare instinctively went back to the circle of women and Celia, who looked far more displeased then before. Celia met Eliza’s stare.
But three others had joined the circle with Celia. Three men that Eliza had seen before in passing.
Eliza pressed her lips into a thin line and forced a smile onto her face. The men that Thorne had met with when they had first arrived in the city. Who wouldn’t give him information because of their oaths.
Their oaths, Eliza knew, to the Blood Witches.
A shiver ran down Eliza’s spine as the eyes of the Brotherhood and the witches fell on her. With hooded gazes, they watched her with a wariness she could feel in her bones. Like they were judging her for being up there.
The applause faded into a low hum of excitement. Eliza could hear the exclamations of surprise.
“A royal wedding!” an older woman towards the front of the mass murmured, voice loud enough for Eliza to hear. “How grand!”
Another man to her left huffed. “A witch for our queen? I don’t care if she saved the prince.”
The voiced opinions went on; some, Eliza could hear, didn’t care if she took to the throne or not—they were just excited for the celebrations that would follow. Others looked at her with disgust. Although Eliza’s features didn’t scream her heritage, the point to her ears gave away that she wasn’t quite human. But neither were half the audience. There were Witches and Warlocks spread throughout the standing mass, the sitting, and the boxes above. Fae-bred Halflings were spread thin throughout the crowd, too. But those who looked down on her for being different.
Eliza wanted to disappear, but she stood there anyway, with her head held high.
From the corner of her eye, the raven watched her with its head cocked. It stood on the shoulders of a tall man—the Knight, though if it was, she couldn’t tell with the large cloak and hood that covered his face.
Alicsar led Eliza back to the dais and offered his hand as she took her seat beside him. She went through the motions without complaint. King Bastian had put her in a position that left her unable to refuse.
“With this union, we will bridge the abyss that has separated our people since that horrific night! With this union, hope will be brought back into your lives—and mine. And with this union, we will strike back at the creature that dared go against me!”
Clenching her jaw, Eliza adverted her eyes from the king, who now stood from his throne. The crowd roared in agreement. They wanted to strike back.
She felt sick.
Eliza searched the boxes above, trying to look anywhere but at the king or the frantic crowd at her feet. She noticed the nobility she had dined with at the Winter Palace.
Henry Ivo watched on with a blank look, lined face eerily unemotional. His arms were crossed over his robed chest, his shadowed eyes dancing over the crowd. What was he thinking about? Eliza wondered, catching his eye as they drifted over to her.
Henry offered her a tight-lipped smile.
Eliza reciprocated the gesture.
While the king continued his speech about what he wanted to accomplish with the wedding, the crowd had begun humming with fervour, with the need to fight back. She could feel it bleeding from the crowd. It gave strength to the spirits that lingered along the edges.
Eliza spotted the little girl from the Winter Palace, her body translucent in the sun. She stood hand in hand with the two other children from the port, who had led Eliza to the demons in the alley. She offered the girl a smile, but she looked away.
Following the path of her stare, Eliza’s smile dropped from her face.
Standing in the shadows, nearly completely hidden by the crowds, stood Amitel.
Something inside of her urged her to go to him, to ask if he was okay after the cave-in, if he knew anything about what had happened to Alicsar or the Dark Master.
But in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Suddenly Eliza felt very alone.
40
ANOTHER LIFE
The portal opened and Eliza caught her first whiff of home.
Diesel fumes and pollution hit her nose, an utter contrast to the clean crisp air of Cadira. Eliza could almost taste the bayou and the heavy whisky that stuck to the air. She sucked in a deep breath, smiling as her grandfather stepped towards the portal, his hand held out to her.
“Are you ready?” he asked, smiling.
Tears sprung in her eyes, and she did nothing to stop them from falling. She’d been ready since she got back from Mesah, when her grandfather had dragged a box of her belongings into her new bedroom at the palace. She’d been ready since Kay had warned her in her dreams while locked in the cell, when she’d seen her home again after the weeks of searching.
Eliza nodded and stepped up beside him, taking his hand. Beyond the portal, she could see nothing but darkness. Barely distinguishable was the white marble of the temple, and the eternal flame that continued to burn.
But even with the distance between herself and the portal, she felt so much closer to home, to freedom. Her whole life, she had wanted to be a part of Cadira, but standing by the portal, she wanted nothing more than to be back in New Orleans, with a coffee in one hand and a book of spells in the other, sitting with Kay at a corner coffee shop, watching the tourists wander through the old streets she called home.
That isn’t your life anymore. She pushed those thoughts aside.
Less than three months, and she’d be married to the crown Prince of Cadira. In less than three months, she’d be one step closer to losing her freedom entirely.
“Let’s go,” she said, nodding furiously. Eliza could almost hear Kay calling her name.
Behind them, the king stood with his son, watching. Although the thought of home pulled at her heart, she could clearly feel the absence of Thorne, still in Mesah investigating the tunnels and cavern. She had sent him a letter, telling him that she was on her way back to New Orleans, but she had heard nothing from him in return.
She hadn’t mentioned the wedding and she wasn’t sure if news would have yet reached Mesah. But she wanted nothing more than to speak to him in person, to explain to him her fears about the whole situation. She wanted to know his thoughts.
But he wasn’t there. He was in the desert, investigating the Dark Master.
Eliza spared a single look over her shoulder, taking in the imposing figure of the dark-haired king and the lithe, uncertain body of the once lost prince. Henry Ivo, dressed completely in white, watched with a straight back from the other side of their official party.
A light breeze carved through the forest clearing, leaves made of emerald and glass twinkling in response. The treetops buzzed with nymphs and sprites and pixies, alight with a happiness Eliza hadn’t noticed when she stepped through the portal the first time.
Where there had been snaking darkness, light was slowly weaving its way back into the land.
She couldn’t help but smile as she took her grandfather’s hand and went home.
~
Eliza couldn’t see any difference to the home she had always known; it still stood three storeys high, with large windows and ivy growing up the brick walls. Old lamp posts still lined her street, and behind her she could hear the cemetery and its spirits whispering to her, calling out her name in delight.
The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1) Page 37
