The Secret Heir (Alinthia Series Book 2)

by Siobhan Davis

  A silent war plays out in front of me as I watch Maddox debating his next move. The only sound in the space is our joint ragged breathing. He zooms in on my mouth. Taking my arms, he slowly hauls me against his hard, taut body. I feel every inch of his solid muscular torso as he presses himself against me. Butterflies flutter around my chest, and my tongue darts out, wetting my lips in anticipation. “I want to kiss you, Tori,” he says in a gruff, needy voice. “Never doubt how much I want you, but I don’t want our first kiss to be like this.” His eyes are dark with lust, his body demonstrating how much he wants me. “Not in response to my jealousy.” He removes his hands from my body, taking a step back. “There’ll be another first.”

  I deflate inside, disappointed, although I get where he’s coming from, and he’s right to want it to be special. He smiles at me, but it’s strained, and I’m guessing he’s as worked up as me, but I rein in my pout, remembering my priorities and forcing myself to ignore my raging hormones. “No problem,” I lie, returning his strained smile. “Let’s just channel our unspent emotion into our session.”

  This time his smile is authentic. “I like the way you think.” He assumes a fighting stance. “Right you are, princess.” He motions me forward with his fingers. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Beckett

  Alinthia joins me in my room after dinner for our session. While I’m searching through stuff in my mind, she walks to the wall, tracing her finger over my painting. I’m glad she broached the subject of our relationship previously, because I’d been trying to pluck up the courage to make a move. She’s made that easier now, although I’m still a basket case in her presence. She has this magnetic way about her. An energy that draws me in and holds me captive. I want to kiss her and hold her so badly, but I’m terrified at the same time too. The depth of my emotions is new and confusing.

  She turns around, smiling at me, and it’s like being bathed in glorious sunshine. I could stare at her all day long and never grow tired of it. “So, what are we focusing on first?” she asks, kicking off her shoes and bouncing on the bed.

  “I know you wanted to look at the sections that reference your abilities, but I thought we’d begin with the Nantor Dynasty, so you understand your origins and what it implies.”

  She bobs her head enthusiastically. One part of me wishes I could project the knowledge into her head, because we’ve so much groundwork to cover, but another part of me is grateful her mind control isn’t resilient enough to accept it yet. Because I don’t want these sessions to end, and I’ll take any and every excuse to spend time with her.

  I project an image on to the blank wall of my bedroom as I begin talking. It’s the Nantor Royal family tree. Dating back centuries, it’s a mammoth ancestral maze of interconnecting lines. I start at the top. “These are the first known royals, or at least the first documented royals. King Fentriss is credited with the transformation of Nantor into a superpower with full control over the galaxy, a status they held for hundreds of years.”

  I scroll down the tree, skimming over generations. “As you can see, the royal lineage was strong, and it extended across several species as progressive kings forged alliances with other nations. Interracial marriages became the norm, and it’s believed this was a strategic move to foster enhanced loyalty.”

  I project another image onto the wall. “This was the Great War which obliterated Nantor and wiped them from existence.” Alinthia clamps a hand over her mouth, shock splayed all over her face. I continue showing more and more bloody, violent scenes which showcase the devastation rendered on Nantor by their enemies.

  “Who opposed them and why?”

  “All great nations garner enemies. Pursuit of power, and the desire to hold ultimate control of power, isn’t anything new. You’ve seen it here on Earth, and it’s not really any different in our universe. There is always someone who believes they can do it better. Who resists and blocks and plans to eliminate their enemy. In the case of the Nantor Dynasty, that power struggle came from within.”

  I flash to an image of an imposing male, standing proudly outside the smoldering ruins of the Nantor Royal Residence. “That’s General Vendu who would later be crowned emperor over the entire galaxy. He had married one of the reigning king’s daughters and secured a high-ranking military position which gave him access to resources he would eventually use to plot the downfall of the dynasty.”

  “I don’t understand,” Alinthia says, frowning. “If he was part of the royal family, didn’t he already have enough power?”

  “He wanted ultimate power, yet the princess had a brother who was next in line for the throne, so there was little chance of Vendu becoming king. He chose to take matters into his own hands, and he executed a perfect coup.”

  “What happened to the royal family?”

  “He had them all killed.”

  She looks aghast. “Even his wife?”

  I nod. “But by this stage, the Nantor bloodline was too diverse to eradicate it completely.”

  I project the family tree on the wall again. “Although over the next few hundred years, the bloodline started to die out.” I pull up the last page. “And now there’s only you.”

  “What does that make me?”

  “You are the last surviving Nantor princess. The lineage carried from your mother.”

  She barks out a laugh. “Holy shit. I’m a freaking princess? Kylie is going to get such a kick out of that.”

  “And, of course, any children you have will continue the legacy.” My cheeks feel like they’re burning.

  “Huh. Does that mean once I’ve awakened everyone will be expecting me to pop out tons of babies?”

  “I would think that’s your choice to make.”

  She scoots back on the bed, resting against the headrest. “I’m glad to hear it. This is all a lot to take in.” She pulls at her lower lip with her teeth. “Is that why I’m the Chosen One? Because I’m of that lineage?”

  I shrug. “Some believe so, because the original scribes were found in Nantor, but there isn’t actually anything specific in the prophecy that says the Chosen One was of a particular origin.”

  She traces a finger over the tattoo on her wrist. “So this is the only proof that I’m really it?”

  I sit down on the edge of the bed. “The prophecy speaks of a vision that confirmed the baby’s status while the mother was carrying the child. I was hoping your mother had embedded that vision in your mind. And there’s also the four of us. We were born at the exact same moment in time as you. All of us bearing the mark of the prophecy.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. I’ve studied this stuff for years, and it’s one of the most amazing things. To be an actual living part of it is just so … humbling. So … incredible.”

  Her gaze flicks to my mouth, and then she stares at me like she wants to kiss me. A red heat creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. I wish I had more experience with females to know how to do this and deeper reserves of courage to take that first step. But the simple truth is, no other female has ever interested me. And it’s not because I’ve been solely focused on my work or because I knew we would find her and collectively fall in love with her. It’s more that some hidden knowledge inside me just knew I was right to wait for her.

  Her features soften, and she smiles. “I’m pretty awestruck right now,” she agrees.

  “I would be too if I was you.”

  “And what does the prophecy say about my awakening? What’s involved in that?”

  I grimace. “Very little, unfortunately. All I can tell you is that when you turn eighteen you will undergo a transformation and obtain new Godlike powers that you will use to win control of the galaxy.”

  “Oh, that’s all.” She laughs nervously, tossing her hands into the air. “That’ll be a cakewalk.”

  I take her hands in mine. “We’ll be there for you. Every step of the way, and we have faith you can do this. Y
ou’re going to pave the way for us to return home, Alinthia.”

  “I wonder what lies in wait for us on Verron,” she muses.

  It’s something I’ve thought about a lot over the years and whether that will end up being the place we set up residence. Alinthia originates from Nantor, and she may find herself torn between the two planets, but it’s not something she needs to concern herself with now.

  “Do you think my parents are still alive?” she asks quietly.

  “I don’t know,” I truthfully admit.

  “Is it wrong to feel conflicted about that?”

  “I think it’s completely normal to feel conflicted.”

  “But I feel guilty because they sacrificed so much to save me, and I shouldn’t feel like that about them, but then I think of my human parents, the only ones I’ve ever known, and it feels like an insult to my mom, to my dad’s memory, to wish my birth parents are still alive.”

  “I doubt your mom would think like that.”

  “No,” she agrees, nodding. “I don’t think she would, but she’s lost so much already, and I’d hate her to feel like she’s losing me too.”

  I want to offer words of comfort, but none spring to mind, because the reality is that Alinthia’s time on Earth will draw to a close at some point and she’ll have to face the harsh reality of her destiny.

  But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

  And there is nothing to be gained from voicing this now. So I keep quiet and silently hope that she finds a way to keep those she loves in her life.

  CHAPTER 7

  Tori/Alinthia

  Dane has gone to rendezvous with Zorc, and Maddox is watching Jack, so that only leaves Cooper, me, and Beck in the house. Beck and I spent another hour going through some more of the histories of our planet and poring over the hugely complex passages written eons ago about the prophecy as we try to identify a reason why I don’t yet have full control over my powers. He shoos me out of the room when it’s time to connect with his contact, who hopefully has some way of removing the curse from me, and I join Coop in the movie room.

  I have my head in Cooper’s lap, and his fingers are massaging my scalp when Beck joins us about an hour later. “Well?” I ask, sitting up, my hair resembling a bird’s nest on top of my head. “Does he know how to remove it?”

  Beck sighs in exasperation. “He had some ideas, but nothing concrete. He says we need to identify the type of curse first, and then he should be able to locate an extraction spell to remove it.”

  I pull my knees in to my chest, brushing knotty strands of hair back off my face. “How can we identify which type of curse it is? Do you have a test for that?” I ask, because it seems like Beck has some kind of test for most things.

  Plopping into the chair beside me, he shakes his head. “No, but he gave me the name of another dude who should be able to help. I’ve sent him a comm, and I’ll try and talk with him tomorrow.”

  I heave a frustrated sigh. Walking around knowing I’m curse-infected doesn’t help my burgeoning anxiety or help combat the churning black nothingness fighting for control inside me. But I know Beck is trying his best, and I don’t want him to feel bad. Without thinking, I rest my head on his shoulder, reaching out to pat his hand. “Thanks for doing this, and I know you’ll figure out a way to fix this.” Beck noticeably stiffens underneath me, and Cooper chuckles.

  “She doesn’t bite, Beck. Chill out and relax.”

  I lift my head up, smiling at him. “It’s okay, Beck. I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. We already talked about this, and you set the pace. I’m cool with that.” Although it didn’t stop me from yearning to kiss him a few hours ago.

  Coop leans forward in his seat, staring at his brother like he’s just sprouted horns or something. “Bruh, stop fighting it, stop overthinking it, and just let nature take its course.”

  I arch a brow at Coop in surprise at his lack of jealousy and his seemingly positive encouragement of his brother. It’s not what I’ve come to expect from him. Does his competitive streak not extend to Beckett then?

  Beck pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, ignoring his brother and focusing on the action playing out on the screen. He’s fidgety in his chair, and I sense his confusion.

  “Don’t push him,” I mouth at Cooper, snuggling in to his side.

  Coop sits back and we all settle in to watch the rest of the movie. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, drifting in and out of consciousness when I feel Beck lift my legs and place them in his lap. Suddenly much more alert, I hold my breath in anticipation. Cooper pretends not to notice too.

  This is a big step for him.

  Cooper plants the thought in my mind, and I wish I had the ability to respond. Beck starts gently rubbing my feet, ever so softly, almost absentmindedly, but I know better. And Coop is right—this might seem like such a simple gesture, but I know how much courage it took for Beck to go there. Everything about Beck is carefully thought out and considered, and him massaging my feet is no less planned.

  A heady warmth floods my chest, and I hope it means he’s prepared to move our relationship forward. Beck has this sweet, soft, adoring way about him that speaks to me on a base emotional level. I’m never more attracted to him than when he’s trying to explain something to me, and he talks intelligently, dumbing the content down for me but never in a patronizing manner. When he scrunches up his nose, frowning as he concentrates on figuring something out, it’s always hugely endearing. At times like that, I just want to bundle him up into my arms and hug him to death.

  But it’s baby steps with Beck, I remind myself, as I drift off again, cocooned by Coop’s body heat on one side and Beck’s slow, careful ministrations on the other side.

  An icy chill swirls around me, coating my entire body, erasing the previous warmth, and embedding frozen tendrils of apprehension bone-deep. Then it feels like I’m flying, soaring through a dark empty abyss as if my limbs are weightless. Terror has a vise grip on my heart, and I want to resist, to come back to my sleepy body, but I’m not in control of myself. Some force propels me forward, and I fly through cold, eerie darkness, in what appears to be a narrow tunnel, the sides blurring in a rush as I pass by in speedy motion. Up ahead, a tiny pinprick of light breaks up the ominous darkness, and I focus on the light, watching as it grows bigger and bigger. And then I’m upon it, tumbling through the air, landing on a smooth, cold surface. I don’t feel any pain, and as I scramble to my feet, my gaze darting around the high-roofed chamber, the floating sensation returns. I look down, realizing I’m hovering a few feet off the ground.

  The chamber I’m in is a small circular-shaped room, made of some type of shiny cream- and gold-colored marble, with a high vaulted roof that narrows into a triangular peak. Four massive stone columns support the structure on all sides, fashioned with a scroll design on top, a bit like the Ionic design of ancient Greek columns we studied in my AP world history class recently.

  I look down at myself, noting I’m wearing the same clothes I fell asleep in, but I don’t look wholly corporeal. I lift my arm, and I’m almost transparent. Like a ghostly reflection of myself. Am I even here or is this some weird dream-slash-nightmare? My previous fear has ebbed, replaced with a calm confidence that seems to emanate from my very soul whenever I’m in precarious situations.

  I guess I can thank my birth parents for that. Whatever subconscious stuff they’ve embedded inside me never lets me down when I need to rely on it.

  As I’m musing in my head, the air distorts, and a blurry figure starts to materialize in front of me. Keeping a tight leash on my emotions, I mask my shock when the figure takes a more solid form, his features crystal clear.

  His face is no less striking in the flesh than in the image Beck showed me. His skin is flawless, his jawline angular, and his lips plump and full. Thick, free-flowing silver hair cascades down his back. He wears utility-type pants and a buttonless black shirt under a flowing black robe. The onl
y difference is his eyes. The day he invaded Verron, General Arantu’s eyes glowed red, exuding danger and unparalleled power. Now, his eyes are a soft gray color, transforming his features.

  He’s no less scary to me though.

  He smiles, and it’s infused with affection, which confuses me.

  “Where am I?” I ask, my soft voice echoing around the chamber as I hold his gaze.

  “You’re in an alternate realm, trapped between worlds.” He speaks in a strange accent, but the tone of his voice is melodic, almost enchanting, yet it does nothing to stop fear bursting through the wall of calmness I’ve constructed. My heart starts beating frantically behind my ribcage, and he somehow notices. “Don’t be alarmed.” He lifts slowly off the floor until we’re both suspended in air. “You are safe here. No harm can come to you.”

  I bark out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Like I believe that.”

  His lips tug up a little, and he scans my face with curiosity. “Contrary to what you may have been told, your survival is of enormous importance to me.”

  “Because you want to use me, use my powers, for evil.” If he knew how sporadic my abilities are, and how little control I exert over them, he might change his mind.

  “Evil is such a subjective word and open to interpretation.”

  “Only someone evil would say such a thing. It’s rather clear cut to me.”

  An amused grin spreads across his mouth, reaching his eyes. “So there are no gray areas? No hidden parts of yourself you don’t understand? No dark questions seeking answers inside you?”

  Bile floods my mouth as he hints at things no one should know. I haven’t even told Kylie about that ominous entity inside me, the one I work hard to keep chained up. “I’m sure you didn’t bring me here to redefine the classification of evil, so let’s hear what you have to say.”