The Wayward Prince (The Redfern Legacy Book 1)

by N. C. Hayes

  “Lady Shaye, we have been ordered by the Crown Prince—”

  “To stand by my side and do my bidding?” Zale nodded. “Then this is an order: go home to Sylvanna. Let the crown prince know what has happened. I’ll see you all in a few days. Now go.”

  The men each bowed deeply, with mumbles of “my lady,” before they effuged from the chambers. The battering ram crashed into the door again, and I felt the wards come down completely. Isolde wrapped me in a tearful hug before disappearing. Elise looked at me and squeezed my hand once more before finally following my order, leaving me standing alone in the foyer. Catchfly appeared by my feet, and I scooped her into my arms just as the door came crashing to the ground.

  Swords came first, then the guards who held them. They rushed in and surrounded me where I stood, my shoulders straight and Catchfly clutched to my chest. I refused to flinch.

  Captain Whittaker marched toward me. “Miss Eastly.” He nodded. “I’ve been instructed by His Majesty to escort you to your new quarters.”

  “And where would that be?” I asked coldly. “The dungeon?”

  “Not quite. His Majesty has granted you mercy yet again. Follow me, please.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “There’s always a choice, Miss Eastly,” I heard one of the guards say behind me as his sword poked into my back. “You just might not like the other option.”

  “Enough,” the captain snapped at him. I scowled and marched forward, following the guards through the corridors whose paintings were now torn to shreds after the attack. The castle was still in disarray, as if the king would not allow repairs to begin until I had been captured.

  I was led to a door, which the captain opened and entered. I stared until a guard nudged me forward, and I stepped into the tiny bedroom that would now apparently be mine.

  “You will remain in this room unless someone comes to collect you. Meals will be left at the door three times per day. You’ll be allowed to walk the grounds once per week, with an escort.” I looked around at the dingy room. There were no windows along the bare, dark walls. There was a small stiff-looking bed in the corner topped with a thin, folded blanket, an empty table, and a chamber pot on the wall furthest from the bed. Not even the dignity of a bathroom. I turned back to the captain and was surprised to see his face filled with what looked almost like pity. He added quietly, “It was the best I could do.”

  I scowled. “You tried to help me?”

  “It seemed like the right thing to do. The king . . . he is not well. I can check on you, make sure you have the things you need—”

  “I’ll be fine,” I snapped. Aydan would be back in a few days. Catchfly and I could handle a small room.

  “Fine, then,” the captain replied. He called to his men, “Move along.” And then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  I gathered Catchfly into my lap and crawled into bed, ready to await the death of the king.

  Part Two: Long Live the King

  ONE YEAR LATER

  Chapter Sixteen

  I could see my breath on the air as I plunged my scouring brush back into the bucket of water to my left. It had taken nearly the whole day, but I was finally coming to the end of my task: scrubbing the floors of the great hall by hand. Cleaning these floors would take any other sorcerer servant half a second, but I hadn’t been permitted to use magic since the attacks on Ayzelle. Each time my water became too filthy, the guard assigned to me would escort me to the servants’ quarters, where I would dump the soiled water and refill from the pump on the wall before carrying it back across the castle. The work was tedious and tore at my hands, but there were much worse ways I could spend my days.

  We were fast approaching the first anniversary of the mortal attacks on Ayzelle. The first anniversary of the death of Crown Princess Irsa, and the onset of King Zathryan’s condition. He had not left his chambers since that night, and now spent his days in bed , cursing the mortals who dared lay siege to his capital. “Two weeks,” the healers had said after the attack, and yet he lingered, his commands carried out by the grand council and the few courtiers who remained. Many had perished that night, and more than half of the survivors had fled for their family homes, no longer finding safety in the castle.

  I sighed and tossed the brush into the bucket for the final time before hauling myself to my feet. “I’m finished,” I said to the guard. He grunted, just enough to acknowledge me, and followed as I made my way to a door in the wall and pushed to reveal a hidden corridor. Several of them had been built into the castle upon its erection, to allow servants to come and go without disturbing the courtiers. Couldn’t interrupt such important work as standing around and gossiping, after all.

  Over the drain, I rinsed the grime from the bucket and brush and tossed them into a closet, all with the guard on my heels. It wasn’t hard to see why none of the other servants would speak to me; none could get near enough to do so. Not with the constant escort, anyway. A few would offer tight-lipped smiles if they made eye contact, but quickly turned their heads if anyone saw. I couldn’t blame them. I was tainted.

  The Redfern name hung over me like a shadow, and the prince’s attention last year had done me no favors either. Whispers followed wherever I went, especially when I was assigned to work in the private quarters of nobles and courtiers. Some would sit and smirk as I scrubbed their floors and changed their linens, while others followed behind me, knocking things over as I straightened them or simply pondering aloud why I had not yet been executed. I often wondered the same thing.

  I turned to my guard—a tall, fair-haired boy today—and asked if I could return to my room for the night. He nodded and left without a word, seemingly as eager to be done with this assignment as I was. This was a recent privilege, walking alone at the end of the day. Up until now every second of time spent outside my tiny bedroom had been supervised. The king himself had apparently granted this small kindness, and I was not going to have it revoked by openly questioning his motives. Despite the freedom, I moved swiftly along the path to my room, keeping myself in view of at least three people the whole way. Any missing time could turn into an accusation that would land me back in an interrogation cell, or worse.

  Finally, I shut myself inside my chambers and leaned back against the door with a sigh. The room was small and somewhat bare, though I had managed to collect a few trinkets to keep myself from staring at nothing but empty stone walls. I was permitted to pick flowers on my weekly walks around the grounds, and now several wreathes of dried dandelions and sunroots hung around the room. They were nothing compared to the vibrant vases of fresh-cut blossoms of the prince’s chambers, or even the more modest arrangements from my home garden, but it was better than nothing. The room also contained a wardrobe and a bed, from upon which an enormous gray cat with rusty orange eyes stared at me expectantly.

  “Hello, Catchfly,” I said sweetly. “Have you been working hard today? Are you just absolutely starved?” A small meow escaped her as I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out a folded handkerchief. She jumped lightly from the bed, an impressive feat given her size, and began weaving herself in and out of my legs. I crouched and set the treat before her, a few pieces of bacon I’d swiped during breakfast, and scratched her fluffy, gray head before turning to wash my face at my makeshift vanity: a small table with a bowl and pitcher and a tiny hand mirror I’d propped against a stack of books.

  I was patting my face dry with a clean cloth when a sharp knock came. Catchfly growled but went back to her bacon when I shushed her.

  “Come in,” I called out. The door opened and a familiar, friendly face peered around it. I gasped. “You’re back!” Two steps to cross the room and I threw my arms around the neck of Stefan Whittaker.

  “It was only two days.” He chuckled, returning the hug with a quick squeeze before pulling away. “I told you, we just needed to drop in on Xarynn and come straight back. How have you been? You look like you had a long day.” I rolled my eye
s.

  “You really know how to compliment a woman. I was scrubbing the great hall, so excuse my appearance.”

  Stefan’s brow furrowed. “Did they light a fire for you?”

  “You know they didn’t,” I said. “They’re not going to waste firewood on me.”

  “I’ll talk to His Majesty,” Stefan said before bending down to pat Catchfly’s head. She swatted at him. “You’ll like me someday.” He laughed lightly. Catchfly retreated under the bed in response. Stefan sat atop it, motioning for me to follow suit, and I slipped off my shoes to settle next to him. He pulled my aching feet into his lap to examine their condition. My shoes were nearly worn through and pinched my feet horribly, causing sores and blisters where the rough material constantly rubbed. I had no money or access to a cobbler to buy a new pair, and no way to let the wounds heal. Stefan had been discreetly making inquiries on my behalf but hadn’t had any luck.

  My ankle too was an absolute mess. After the mortal attack last year, I had been interrogated about my suspected involvement in the mortal siege. When they found that I had committed no provable crime, I was returned to this room, and Stefan was charged with locking a silver cuff on my ankle. Instead, in an act of kindness, he had locked a cuff of steel around me, polished well enough to shine if anyone caught a glimpse. So far no one had come close enough to notice, but a year straight of metal chafing my skin had rendered it raw. Stefan had been providing me with balms and ointments stealthily procured from the castle healers, which I suspected was preventing some much more serious problems.

  “You probably shouldn’t mention the fire to the king,” I said after a few minutes, pulling my feet away and tucking them underneath myself. “It’s really not that bad, and I wouldn’t want to . . . aggravate his condition.”

  “I don’t want you freezing to death.”

  “I’m hard to kill,” I teased. He frowned.

  It was true. I’d learned only too well the type of damage a sorcerer’s body could take, and it would be a long time before I ever forgot. The memories rang in my ears:

  “Don’t hurt her.”

  “Leave. Now.”

  “Please . . . no more . . .”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Shaye.” I heard Stefan say my name and shook away the dread in my chest.

  “Hm?” I tilted my head, pretending I’d simply been daydreaming. Stefan worried about me enough as it was.

  “I asked if you wanted to take your walk tonight,” he said. As Captain of the Guard, Stefan oversaw my weekly walks around the grounds—the only time I was allowed to go outside. It was during these walks that Stefan first tried to talk to me like a person instead of a prisoner. It wasn’t until after the interrogations stopped that I listened to anything he had to say.

  “I don’t think so,” I sighed, disappointed. “As much as I’d like to get out, I don’t want to hurt my feet further and not be able to sleep tonight.” Sleep was my one escape from the hell of my waking hours, aside from talking with Stefan and the little bit of reading I was able to do.

  “In that case, I need to head out for a while so I’m not here when your dinner arrives.” I understood. The Captain of the Guard lounging on the bed of the Crown’s most dangerous prisoner would not bode well.

  “Will you be back tonight?” I asked.

  “I’ll try,” he said. “I have an audience with His Majesty to report on the Xarynn visit, so that may take some time. If I’m not back in”—he looked the small clock on my table—“two hours, go ahead and sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” We stood, and Stefan hugged me briefly again before he left. When the door clicked shut behind him, I breathed out slowly, taking in the silence.

  It was true that I’d come to rely on Stefan in the past year. Despite my initial distaste for him, the captain had not only become my ally, but a cherished friend. His loyalty to King Zathryan ran deep, but although it made my blood boil to even hear the man’s name, I knew Stefan was doing his best to help me where he could. He made sure that Catchfly and I both ate regularly, that we had the things we needed.

  But it wasn’t only that. Stefan and I talked for hours most nights, about our families, our childhoods, our dreams for the future. For me, that mostly meant dreaming of a day when I could leave Ayzelle and live a life outside of Zathryan’s grasp. Stefan, on the other hand, didn’t think much beyond his career as captain. He hadn’t always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a soldier but did so in his honor when the last Captain Whittaker died in service to the Crown. He joined the Guard on his eighteenth birthday and quickly climbed the ranks, becoming the youngest Captain of the Guard in Medeisian history at age twenty-two. He’d held his position for nearly six years, and the ambush that killed Princess Irsa was the first time anyone had been able to breach Stefan’s guard system. When he told me about it, months later, the devastation on his face was enough to break one’s heart.

  While I waited for food, I decided to read. My now tattered copy of Enchanted, Enchanting lay under my bed, waiting for me to continue it for what was now the fifteenth time. Books were a thing that was hard for Stefan to acquire for me since only the nobility were permitted to use the library. But he had managed to sneak into my previous quarters sometime after the Guard and Ayzellen Council had torn through the place, finding Enchanted, Enchanting, along with a couple of history books. The histories were set aside in favor of the romance novel most nights. I got enough of Medeisian court during the day.

  My dinner arrived—a sad, watery excuse for beef stew and a slice of stale bread—and I ate it as I read. After a while, I looked at the clock and found that it was nearing midnight. Stefan was not coming. I sighed and closed the book before calling Catchfly up to join me. Under my bed once again, I found the bottle of lavender liquid I’d been taking for nearly a year now, placed two drops beneath my tongue, and tried not to think of who gave me the tincture to begin with as I let sleep embrace me for the night.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The second I opened my eyes the next morning, I knew I was late. Catchfly lounged on the foot of the bed, staring at me. I leapt to my feet and muttered, “You could have woken me, you know,” to her as I quickly dressed. Her response was to stand and stretch before turning the other way, curling into a ball and closing her eyes. I splashed some cold water on my face and tore a brush through my limp, tangled hair until it was manageable enough to braid. As I shoved my feet into those awful shoes, I told her, “You’ll have to catch a mouse or something today.” She didn’t bother looking at me, but I could have sworn I saw her let loose a sigh as I practically ran out the door.

  The normally busy corridor was empty. Maybe no one would notice my tardiness. There was no guard to escort me or assign me my duties, so I headed toward the servants’ quarters, where perhaps someone was waiting for me. If not, Mr. Vyne, the steward, would have an assignment for me, I was sure. As I walked my normal path, it became clear that something unusual was happening. The corridors were all empty, not just the one near my room. No servants, no courtiers or noblemen to pause and curtsy to as they sneered in my direction. Instead, as I grew closer to the servants’ quarters and thus the great hall, I heard the low rumble of dozens of voices trying to speak softly all at once.

  I peeked inside, then carefully entered the hall, staying at the perimeter of the room. It was fuller than it had been since the king shut himself away, with likely every living person in the castle standing in unorganized clusters as they murmured to one another. They were all dressed finely, as if for a feast.

  I spotted a group of women in aprons and weaved through the gaggles of noblemen and their gossiping wives. A young mortal servant named Amelia smiled tightly at me.

  “Sorry to interrupt”—I nodded toward the others, who ignored me—“but what’s going on?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Amelia whispered. “King Zathryan has taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Oh,” I said flatl
y. The king had taken many turns for the worse over the last year.

  “That’s what I said,” Amelia continued, “but his healer, Jemma—well, she’s friendly with my mother, and she—well, everyone knows she’s just the best healer anyone could hope for. Once, when I was little, I fell out of a tree and broke my arm—”

  “Sorry,” I said, “what’s happening with the king?”

  Amelia lowered her voice. “He’s asked for the Wayward Prince. A message was sent to Sylvanna this morning. The prince is on his way right now.” I coughed and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

  “Y-You’re sure?” I asked. She nodded.

  “A guardsman effuged over to Sylvanna this morning and delivered the message. The captain sent out notices to the rest of the castle.” She gestured toward the doors on the other end of the great hall, behind the dais I’d once been presented to. They were opened and Stefan walked through, a somber look on his face. None of the courtiers took notice, so I bid Amelia farewell and approached to fall into step beside him.

  “Is it true?” I murmured.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk here.” He picked up his pace and headed for some council member whose name I couldn’t remember. I stopped and stood where I was, my stomach filling with a sort of cold dread while I debated if I should go back to my room for now.

  But then the herald took a step into the hall and cried out, “His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Aydan of Medeisia, has arrived.”

  ~

  The crowded room fell silent, and in an instant, the courtiers and council members, nobles and servants, all scattered to the perimeter of the great hall. I found Amelia and her friends once again and positioned myself behind them. Standing on my toes to get a better look, I held my breath, sure I’d hear a pin if it fell to the floor. Several sets of footsteps echoed as they approached, then the crown prince entered the great hall, flanked by four people I had never seen.