The Wayward Prince (The Redfern Legacy Book 1)

by N. C. Hayes

  “Alastair,” she called, and excused herself from the courtiers. She crossed the hall to greet me, taking my hand in her own. “It is so good to see you . . . How are you?”

  “I’m . . .” I took in her appearance. A lady of the court. Subdued, malleable. Beautiful. A pleasure to the eyes of men around her. Not the feared warrior who had led me and our comrades into battle. Not the sword master bellowing orders to her soldiers from the back of her horse. Not the commander dismounting and running into the mud and blood and gore to strike with her blade, cutting down soldiers who fell like stalks of wheat.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern in her eyes. A soft voice, a soft gaze I didn’t recognize.

  “What happened to you, Brina?” I blurted. “I thought you’d be training new recruits.”

  A brief, tight-lipped smile. “I don’t do that anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not appropriate for a lord’s wife,” she said. I looked at her left hand wearing a gold ring adorned with small diamonds surrounding a blush pink pearl. I took my hands back.

  “Wife.” She nodded. “Who . . .”

  “Lord Redfern, the king’s Chief Advisor,” said Brina, her chin held high. “Seven months ago.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Seven months and you didn’t . . . you didn’t write—”

  “I wanted to tell you in person,” she said, now lowering her eyes. “Ronan said we would be visiting Sylvanna sometime this year to meet with the prince, and then the trip was postponed so many times . . . Things have been busy . . . and complicated. There’s so much that I need to tell you. I never wanted . . . Alastair, you’re my dearest friend. I didn’t want to hurt you by telling you in a note.”

  “Instead, you’d hurt me by waiting more than half a year to tell me you’ve given yourself over to a power-hungry monster like Lord Ronan,” I said harshly. Brina’s eyes snapped up, filled with anger I’d only seen on the battlefield.

  “You will not speak of my husband in that way,” she spat. “You know nothing—nothing—about Ronan.”

  “I know what is whispered about him across the territories,” I hissed. “That he seeks power from forbidden sources. They say he’s consulting witches now, Brina.”

  “And you believe everything you hear?” she replied coolly. “Should I have believed every rumor about the men you’ve taken as lovers? Doesn’t my loving Ronan tell you everything you need to know? Am I not a good enough credential?”

  “You claim a love match.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I do.” My eyes followed her hand as it drifted to rest on top of her stomach, which I now saw was swollen under the flowing skirts of her dress. I swallowed. My eyes traveled back up to meet hers. She held my gaze.

  Silence.

  “Brina—”

  “I think you should go,” she interrupted. “Replenish your supplies—take anything you need. But be gone by morning.” My friend, my commander, turned to leave.

  “Brina, please.” I grabbed her hand. “Tell me what’s really going on. I can help you.”

  “My name is Lady Redfern,” she snapped, taking her hand away. “There is nothing going on, except that my dearest friend cannot bring himself to celebrate my happiness with me. Goodbye, Alastair.”

  She strode back across the hall, the other courtiers now staring at me, at her. She marched with her chin high, straight to her husband, who now stood where she’d been mingling only moments before. Her face was filled with adoration as Ronan kissed the back of her hand. He placed his own on her cheek and murmured something, brushing his thumb as if to wipe away a tear. Brina nodded, then left the hall and didn’t turn back. I watched until she disappeared around a corner, then glanced back at Ronan, who was staring at me. I turned on my heel, then—

  I felt a strong push, and suddenly I was back on the grounds of Ayzelle. Alastair was hunched over, breathing heavily with beads of sweat forming on his brow. “What the hell—” He turned and vomited into the grass. I placed my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged me off. “You were only supposed to see an image of her face.”

  “What was that, then?”

  “That was the last time I saw Brina alive and well.” Alastair gripped my wrist and pulled me with him as he began to storm his way to the castle. “We need to see Kenna.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Half an hour later, we were in the Cabinet lounge. Kenna held either side of my head with a light pink glow pouring from her palms while she searched my mind, her eyes glazed over with the faraway gaze of sight. Aydan watched from the edge of the room, arms crossed, while I did my best to not make eye contact with him. Kenna abruptly stopped and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Nothing,” she said to Alastair. “No one’s using her as a conduit. Her mind is her own.” She looked back at me. “You’re a mindwalker.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I intended to show you an image,” Alastair said from his seat where he’d been watching intently since he burst into the king’s chambers, demanding that Kenna look at me. “You experienced the full memory. A mindwalker who hones their abilities could manipulate a memory, make one believe that events happened differently than they did—or completely erase it. A skilled mindwalker could make you forget years of your own life.”

  “Mindwalking . . . is not an ability found in sorcerers, is it?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

  “No,” Aydan replied. I rested my elbows on my knees and let my head fall in my hands.

  “Shit!” Alastair stood and stormed from the lounge, passing Gerridan and Hannele on his way through the door. Hannele looked to each of us.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Shaye is a mindwalker.” Kenna pressed a glass of brandy into my hand. I mumbled my thanks before knocking back the whole thing. She refilled in with the wave of her hand. Gerridan’s eyebrows flicked upward and he looked to Aydan, who nodded, confirming they’d heard her correctly.

  “Let’s see.” I tapped the edge of my glass and stared at the floor as I said the words. “I’m a mindwalker, with no explanation of how I did it. I can conjure three different elements, with no clue how to control them—”

  “Three?” Hannele whispered.

  “I conjured a windstorm in my bedroom a few nights ago.” I looked at Aydan, who still hadn’t reacted. “I resign.” He straightened.

  “No you don’t,” he said. “I know you’re overwhelmed, Shaye, but we’ll figure—”

  “We won’t figure it out,” I snapped, standing up. “We haven’t figured it out. It’s been months and all we’ve figured out is that every day, I have less and less control over myself. Every day, I become more and more of a fucking monster.” I drained my glass again before walking to the drink cart and refilling it. My hands shook, getting hotter.

  “You’re not a monster,” Aydan insisted. “You did not choose this. You haven’t done anything wrong here.”

  “Just stop, Aydan,” I replied, refusing to turn and face him. “You should have just let Zathryan kill me.” Before I could drink, Aydan was there, taking it from my hand. A stillness fell over the room.

  “Kenna, take Gerridan and Hannele and find somewhere else to be,” he said without taking his eyes off of me. The three of them left the room without another word. The door clicked shut and we were alone. “Are you thinking of hurting yourself, Shaye?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t ever say such a thing in my presence again.”

  I should have been intimidated, but instead I said, “It’s the truth.” I stepped away and, with a flick of my wrist, took my drink back from Aydan’s hand. I downed it before he could stop me. “It would have saved everyone some trouble. You’d still be king, only ruling from Sylvanna instead of dragging your Cabinet here to pick up the pieces of a broken woman—gods know why—”

  “Why?” Aydan interrupted. “Do you really have to ask why I’m here? Gods, Shaye, sometimes when we talk, I feel like
I’m going insane.” He stepped closer to me. “You’re right, I could have stayed in Sylvanna. I could have ruled from there, declared Sylvanna the new capital, and let Declan and the council run Ayzelle. But I made you a promise, so I came back here for you. And I thought things would be different. I didn’t think . . .” Aydan shook his head and fell silent.

  “Look—I was fine. Really, I was. But then you came back. Then you asked me to be your advisor, and I stupidly agreed—”

  “Why? Why did you agree? Why make an oath to serve the Crown if it’s such a ridiculous notion?”

  “I don’t care about the Crown,” I spat. The alcohol was doing its job. Aydan’s jaw stiffened. “I care about the citizens of this country. You think that this—this institution means a damned thing to me? You think that if Zathryan had offered me this position, I would have taken it? The Crown doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me if you’re not the one wearing it, Aydan.” He blinked, and the words continued to pour from my mouth, softer now. “When you came back, every time I saw you, I was reminded of how much I shattered when you left, and I think—I don’t know—I think part of me was scared that if I said no, you’d disappear again.” I clenched and unclenched my hands. My face was hot.

  “Shaye,” Aydan nearly whispered. “It wasn’t my choice to leave.”

  “I know.”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been. I wish I could have done more, but I knew you were safe here, blood-shielded—”

  My hands heated so quickly, my drink exploded. I moved away, shaking bits of glass out of my palms, scoffing as I bit back the angry tears welling in my eyes. “Yes, the blood shield. A lot of good that did me.” Aydan looked at me, baffled.

  “What are you talking about?” The tears spilled over and evaporated into tiny clouds of steam from my face.

  “Didn’t you wonder what heightened interrogation methods your father was talking about in his diary?”

  “You said they questioned you.”

  “No, I said they interrogated me,” I corrected. “Even on his deathbed, Zathryan was clever and cruel.”

  “You were blood-shielded—”

  “Do you want to see what good your precious fucking blood shield did me?” My voice grew louder. Aydan stared as I began undoing the laces of my jacket, tearing at them as they sizzled beneath my fingertips. I threw it to the floor, then brought the padded white shirt I wore beneath it over my head until I was in nothing but sparring pants and a camisole, my shoulders and midriff exposed. I turned my back to him, and though I couldn’t see his face, the air in the room shifted to a feeling of horror.

  From the tops of my shoulders, down my entire back were gnarled, thick raised scars that continued beneath my clothes, past the waist of my pants and over the backs of my legs, still angry and pink all these months later. Looking at them, you couldn’t tell where one wound had ended and the another began. I turned around slowly.

  “Shaye.” Aydan’s eyes were rimmed in red. “I don’t . . .”

  “The mortals that were captured the night of the attack were given a deal. Whichever one could make me confess to my involvement would be spared from execution,” I said matter-of-factly, attempting to block out the memory. “They put a silver cuff on my ankle and left it there until Stefan was able to switch it out for the steel one, but the damage was already done. The mortals knew I had nothing to do with their plans, but they did it anyway. They were desperate. Most of them just whipped me. A couple tried using knives. None of them could survive their own torture, but I did. It didn’t stop until Stefan stepped in, but we now know that was Zathryan’s doing too.”

  Aydan opened his mouth, “Shaye, I—”

  “I know you couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t have known. But I’m not the same woman you left in those chambers. I can’t pretend that I didn’t spend every day those first few months praying that this would be the day you returned, but you never did. So now I spend every second torn between being scared of getting too close to you and terrified of being away from you, because I know one day, you could decide your debt is paid and I will be left alone all over again.” I snapped my mouth shut and closed my eyes, realizing I had said far too much. “Excuse me—”

  Aydan didn’t stop me as I walked out of the room and crossed the king’s chambers, passed the rest of the Cabinet where they waited in the parlor. None of them said a word as I walked by. I locked my door behind me and curled atop my bed to cry.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I woke shivering the next morning. Sun poured through my window and into my eyes, and when I moved to get out of bed and draw the curtains shut, I realized my pillow was frozen to my face.

  I didn’t trust myself to use fire without burning my flesh, so I spent the next few minutes gently peeling the frozen satin from my face, which was left red and raw. When I sat up and looked around, now thoroughly awake, Catchfly was not in her normal spot next to me.

  “Catchfly?” I called. I moved the blanket on her side of the bed and my hand sank into ice cold water. The bedding was soaked through. A low disgruntled sound came from atop my wardrobe. The fat gray cat was sat there, staring at me with disapproval. “Well I didn’t do it on purpose,” I said, reaching up to take her down from her perch. She swatted at my hand. “Suit yourself.”

  Still in my clothes from last night, I found a shirt and pulled it over myself. A pair of covered trays sat by the door when I stepped out, and I lifted the top of the first one. Dinner from last night. The second was breakfast from this morning.

  The king’s chambers were a flurry of activity. Elise, Alice, and a handful of servants I didn’t know were darting in and out of rooms, carrying gowns and boxes in their arms. Beyond the bedroom wing, I could see trunks piling into the foyer. I took a few steps and leaned my head into Hannele’s room, where I found her speaking with a servant girl about her belongings.

  “Yes, just leave all of the gowns,” she said. “I’ll need to keep them on hand for visits here.” She saw me in the doorway. “You’re awake. Good afternoon.”

  “What time is it?” I asked, searching for a clock. “What’s going on, why did no one wake me?”

  “Things were hectic this morning. When you didn’t wake on your own, we figured we’d handle the details and fill you in when you decided to join us.” She looked me up and down. “Rough night?”

  “Something like that. What’s going on?”

  “We’re leaving for Sylvanna in an hour,” she replied, continuing to sort her things into various trunks and boxes around her. My heart sank.

  Gerridan appeared next to me.

  “Look who woke up.” He smirked, looking at me the same way Hannele had done before adding, “Yikes.”

  “You really know how to compliment a woman, Gerridan darling,” Hannele said.

  “I do my best.” He grinned, then asked her, “Do you have my book?”

  “What book?”

  “The . . . oh, what’s it called? The one about the trees in the elf kingdoms—”

  “What is the title of the book, Gerridan?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just know one is missing.”

  “If you loaned me a book, it’s in my trunk now. You can look for it when we get home.” Gerridan let out an exaggerated sigh before turning his attention back to me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Oh,” I said, my chest feeling heavy. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way and let you pack. If I don’t see you—”

  “Why wouldn’t you see us?” Hannele asked. “I told you we’re leaving in an hour. Do you need help packing? One of the servants can bring you an extra trunk if you don’t have one ready.” I blinked, trying to understand.

  “I’m coming with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?” Gerridan asked. “You’re the Chief Advisor.”

  “I didn’t realize I still had the job . . . after yesterday.”

  Hannele scoffed. �
�Please. You think that was enough to be set aside?”

  “Technically, I resigned.”

  “No you didn’t. Not really.”

  “I don’t know if he wants me around anymore.”

  “Look, short of trying to kill him, Aydan isn’t going to set you aside. And even then”—she gestured to Gerridan—“he’ll probably still keep you around.” He rolled his eyes.

  “It was one time, and an accident—”

  “Semantics.” Hannele winked at me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “And I’m sorry. To both of you—all of you—”

  Gerridan waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing.”

  “Go pack.” Hannele smiled. “We’re going home.”

  ~

  Not quite an hour later, our trunks and suitcases—and a very unimpressed Catchfly—had been hauled into the parlor, where, with a wave of his hand, Gerridan made them disappear before my eyes. He explained that they now sat in Aydan’s private residence, where they would be waiting for us until our arrival.

  “Impressive,” I remarked.

  “Not really,” Kenna replied, leaning against a doorframe and examining her fingernails. “It’s pretty low-level magic.” Gerridan held a hand to his chest, offended.

  “I couldn’t do it,” I said.

  “You could learn,” Kenna assured me. “But, knowing you, you’d burn the place down or drown somebody in the process.”

  “Thanks.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not wrong.”

  “No, I guess you’re not.” I snorted.

  “Everyone ready?” Aydan asked, strolling into the room. I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t look my way. “Where’s Al?”

  “Still packing up,” Gerridan said. “He was doing perimeter checks while you bid the council farewell.”

  “I’m here.” Alastair appeared next to Aydan, with a knapsack slung over his shoulder. He made it a point to catch my eye and give me a nod. I returned the gesture.

  “All right. Let’s do this, then.” Aydan reached out and took Alastair’s hand. Alastair took Gerridan’s, and so on until Kenna grabbed mine. I waited for a moment and then realized the rest of them were waiting for me to complete the circle. I didn’t look at him as I grasped Aydan’s other hand. A heartbeat later, my stomach dropped and stone floors appeared beneath my feet where the rug had been. I blinked and quickly let go of Aydan, gasping softly at the room surrounding me.