The Wayward Prince (The Redfern Legacy Book 1)

by N. C. Hayes

  I heaved, dropping my head back against the wall and looking toward Hannele. She hadn’t stirred during the scuffle. I stared, unsure if she was breathing, and finally relaxed a bit when I watched her chest rise and fall. I wondered how long it would be until her last breath. Until mine.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  My eyes grew heavy, and though I wanted to sleep, I forced myself to stay awake. I did not want to be surprised by Deimos again, and hours later when I heard swift footsteps coming down the corridor, I braced myself, pressing back tightly against the wall. But when the door burst open, it wasn’t Deimos looking for revenge.

  It was Lyra, wearing a hooded cloak. Wordlessly, she crouched before me and pulled a key from her pocket. My cuff and chains clattered to the floor.

  “Lyra, what are you . . . ?” I rubbed at my raw skin and moved to stand. My knee screamed at the full weight of my body, slight as it now was.

  “Were you truthful in your request?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. “A teacher, in exchange for peace? A place at the table for the covens?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Even after all of this?”

  I hesitated, but still said, “Yes.”

  “Then get ready to run.” She knelt before Hannele. “Is she alive?”

  “I think so,” I said shakily, wondering if this might be a trap. “Last I checked, she was still breathing.” Lyra felt for a pulse.

  “She’s there,” the keeper said, “but just barely. We need to go.” She unlocked the chains and the cuff on Hannele’s wrist before scooping her up into her arms, then over her shoulders like a new lamb. “I can’t—what is it your people call it? Effuge? I can’t effuge in here. Too many wards. We have to make it down the corridor and through the door. Once we’re on the other side, I can take the three of us out of the Temple.” I nodded, limping to the side and allowing Lyra to open the door and peek out. “All clear,” she muttered, turning right. I followed shakily. With the cuff gone, my mind was suddenly clearer than it had been in weeks, but my body would need more time, and a healer, to recover.

  Lyra walked at a swift but unsuspicious pace. The corridor was empty, but seemingly endless in length. We’d only been walking a few seconds when a door opened and closed behind us. “Don’t look. Keep walking.” Lyra picked up the pace, which I attempted to match.

  “Hey! Stop—” a voice called. Before another word could ring out, Lyra murmured something as she twisted, launching a wave of purple light from her hands. I didn’t turn to see if he had dodged it, but a second later heard multiple pairs of feet chasing us.

  “Go—go!” Lyra commanded. My battered knee was screaming for me to stop, but I kept running alongside the witch, finding myself just feet from the door when it swung open.

  It was Deimos.

  He stood before us as we came to a sudden stop, the guards still approaching. White-hot rage and disbelief flashed in his violet eyes as he looked us all up and down, and raised his hand—

  But I was faster. With all the strength I could muster, I sent a wall of flame crashing toward him while Lyra shouted a spell and her purple light sent him flying. Down, down, down the corridor, where he collided with the wall on the opposite end. I stepped through the door while Lyra nearly fell through it, catching herself on my arm as she did. As soon as she touched me, my stomach dropped and we landed, shivering, on the top of the Five-Peak Summit.

  The wind screamed in our ears while snow came down upon us, melting as it hit my skin. I gasped, almost laughing at the sensation. I had not felt fresh air in so long. Until now, I had not been sure I would ever feel it again.

  “We don’t have much time,” said Lyra as she gently laid Hannele’s sleeping body on the ground. She reached under her cloak and into a hip pack for a folded map, which she spread on the ground, showing the entirety of the Medeisian Realms. Though it was in nearly perfect condition, one glance told me that it was outdated. Nautia was still the capital. “I need you to show me where to go.”

  The Grand Palace was dead in the center of the Sylvannian territory. We’d never make it past their wards, and if we simply arrived at one of the entry points scattered along the border, Lyra would surely be taken prisoner, if she wasn’t killed on sight. I scanned the map and noticed the rocky Sylvannian border nearest the sea—unlikely to have many patrols, with nature providing an adequate barrier. There was a symbol indicating a town just past the border. We could get help, get word to the palace. “Here,” I said, pointing. “We’ll have to walk a little way to get over the border, but—”

  “Fine,” she said, bending down and hoisting Hannele back over her shoulders. Before I could say another word, she gripped my wrist, said her words, and again my stomach dropped.

  ~

  We landed, hard, on the rocks just outside the Sylvannian border. Lyra was out of breath and sweating.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” she said, adjusting Hannele’s body before straightening her posture and raising her hood. “That was just a long way to transport three people. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

  “Let’s get moving, then. We need to get to town before sundown.” I led the way, limping.

  We lurched and stumbled our way over rocks and rough terrain for an hour, Lyra carrying the still unconscious Hannele the whole time, never complaining or stopping to rest. It was at the end of that hour that I felt the air grow heavy, and realized we were approaching the warded border.

  “Will I be able to cross through that?” Lyra asked, clearly feeling the same weight in the air.

  “I guess we’ll see,” I replied.

  A few more feet and there we were, stopped before the invisible border. I took a step forward and passed through without consequence. But when I motioned for Lyra to do the same, she halted abruptly, as if she had run into a brick wall.

  “Ouch,” she muttered.

  Panicking, I wracked my brain, trying to remember anything I’d been told about the wards of Sylvanna . . . and could remember nothing. Nothing, that was, until I recalled my first trip to Sylvanna, when Aydan had clasped hands with all of us, allowing us to effuge directly into the palace. Once I had entered Sylvanna that first time, the wards were lifted for me as a member of Aydan’s Cabinet. I crossed back over and clutched the witch’s hand before nearly dragging her behind me. She passed through with no resistance.

  “Keep going,” I panted. My leg was throbbing, but in the distance I could see the edge of a town. We were nearly home.

  Another hour of limping, with Lyra stopping twice to readjust the princess she still carried—now cradled in her arms rather than over her shoulders—and we were there. The streets were quiet, the villagers likely retreating into their homes for dinner. “Make sure that hood stays up,” I muttered breathlessly. Lyra said nothing, but adjusted the hood to cover her face, keeping her tattooed hands hidden beneath Hannele. Up ahead, a shopkeeper was locking his storefront for the night, and I called out to him. His eyes widened at the sight of me—covered in blood and two months’ worth of filth.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?” he asked as I approached.

  “My friend needs help,” I said. “A healer. Please, is there someone—?”

  “The only healers nearby live on the Hazelwren Estate, at the other end of town.” He pointed down the road behind us. I thought I might cry.

  “Please, can you tell us how to get there? Perhaps on a map?” Lyra’s lilting voice asked from beneath her cloak. The man patted his pockets as if to search for one, then thought for another second before realization struck him. He waved his hand over the dirt road at our feet and a basic map appeared, guiding us from the shop where we stood, down the main road, and through some twists and turns to where the estate claimed to be.

  “Thank you,” I said. The man bent over in a bow, but before he came back up Lyra gripped me and we were gone.

  The ride was rougher this time, and when we appeared on the other side, the three of us crashed to th
e ground, right at the doorstep of the Hazelwren Estate, bypassing the gates completely. Hannele moaned, but her eyes remained closed as I stood, panting. I steadied myself on the doorframe and knocked as hard as I could, over and over and over—until the door flew open and a bewildered servant stood before us, staring at me and then the injured women behind me.

  “Please,” I rasped, “please, we need a healer—we need to send word to the palace—the king . . . Lady Solandis . . .” I felt myself sway.

  “What in Ehnara’s name—” the servant started.

  “My name is Lady Shaye Eastly. I am the Chief Advisor of King Aydan’s Cabinet—”

  “Lady Shaye?” a voice called from inside. Hurried footsteps approached and into the light came Lady Reyna, disbelief written on her face. “My gods.” She turned to the servant. “Get the healers—and send word to the palace. Now.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Within minutes, we were taken to a suite where Hannele was placed on a plush bed and a healer began to examine her wounds. Every few seconds, it seemed, another healer would come to join in her treatment, and every so often someone would ask me a question about her condition. I did my best to answer but struggled to give a clear statement. With the cuff gone, I felt my magic simmering beneath the surface once again, but it was working hard to heal my injuries now and could not be bothered with keeping me awake.

  The healers banished Hannele’s jacket from her body, revealing the putrid, festering wound on her arm. Through the blood and pus and every other awful substance there, I could see the white, jagged splinters of bone peeking from beneath the princess’s dark skin. They got to work, a pair of them focused on stitching her arm back together, while three others held their glowing green lights over her head, heart, and stomach. Minutes that felt like eternities passed while I watched the healers put her back together. For the first time in my life, I sent a real prayer to the gods.

  Reyna was kind enough to bring me a bowl of broth, which she insisted I sip, but after a couple of mouthfuls, I couldn’t stomach any more and set the bowl aside. She watched on for a minute or so, saying nothing. It was nearly silent in the room while the healers worked, until loud voices rang out from elsewhere in the house. Reyna scowled and opened the door to see what was happening.

  “What in the world—”

  “Where is she? Reyna, please, let me through—”

  The door pushed open fully and in flew Gerridan, followed closely by Kenna. Gerridan was pale, and when his eyes landed on me, I felt the color drain from my own face. Reyna slipped into the hallway, attempting to give us some level of privacy while Gerridan gaped.

  “Ger, I . . .” I started, my voice shaking. He took a step toward me and wrapped me into a long, tight hug.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” he said, voice tight. “Of all the stupid, selfish things—”

  “Oh, don’t start,” said a weak voice from behind us. I whipped my head around to see Hannele’s eyes were open, though still looking quite heavy. Gerridan’s breath hitched, and a small smile formed on the princess’s lips.

  Without another word, Gerridan crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, where he took her hand in his and kissed her palm. Taking their cue, the healers bowed their heads to the princess and filed out of the room. I motioned for Lyra, who had been standing in the corner this whole time, to follow Kenna and me into the hallway. Once outside the door, Kenna threw her arms around my neck.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said softly.

  “Me either,” I said as she pulled away. Kenna looked Lyra up and down. “This is Lyra,” I explained. “She . . . she’s my new teacher.”

  “I see,” the seer replied, giving the witch another once-over before turning back to me. “He’s on his way,” she said. “He’s been in Ayzelle the past few days. I sent word with Elise.” I nodded.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Can you . . . will you please take Lyra home? Our home, I mean.”

  She sighed but offered her arm to Lyra, who looked between us with hesitation.

  “You are safe here, Lyra,” I told her. “No harm will come to you within these borders. Kenna will have the servants get you a bath and something hot to eat, and I’ll come check on you later.”

  “There will be much to discuss,” Lyra said. I nodded as she took Kenna’s arm, and the pair of them disappeared.

  I debated whether I should go back into the room, to climb in the other bed there and rest, but decided against interrupting Gerridan and Hannele’s reunion and instead found an armchair in a nook at the end of the corridor. I rested my head against the plush back of it and let my eyes drift closed.

  I was nearly asleep when commotion sounded from downstairs. Groggily, I stood from my chair and headed down the hall toward the noise. Reyna had been running in all different directions since our arrival, and I didn’t want her to deal with yet another interruption to her life on my account. Heavy footsteps bounded up the stairs, and I was only a few steps away from the top of the stairwell when Aydan rounded the corner and came to a stunned halt. I inhaled sharply as he stared, wide-eyed, as if seeing a ghost.

  My face crumpled. I threw my arms around his neck and cried into his chest while he squeezed me tightly, running a hand over my matted, dirty hair and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I pulled away, still blubbering, and placed my hand on his cheek. His eyes were glossy.

  “Do you—do the healers need to see you?” he asked.

  “No, someone looked me over while the rest worked on Hannele. I should just need rest, but they’ll check on me again later.”

  “Is Hannele . . . ?”

  “She’ll need time, but she’ll be okay. Gerridan is with her.” Aydan took my hand without another word.

  We landed in Aydan’s room—our room—back at home in Sylvanna. I swayed on my feet at the sudden effuging, but he caught me and carried me to bed. He crawled in beside me and held me close, refusing to let go. I didn’t want him to.

  “Aydan,” I choked after a few moments of silence. “I’m so . . . I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking stupid, and selfish—”

  “Stop,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I betrayed you. I betrayed the Crown.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Aydan insisted. “You’re home.”

  “But I—”

  “I didn’t listen. I was resigned to saying no. You had an idea, and Gerridan and I . . .” He searched for the words. “I should have at least looked into the logistics. I set you up for failure.”

  “I didn’t fail,” I told him. The hand he had been rubbing up and down my arm stopped. “There’s a witch. Lyra. She’s here in the house. She saved Hannele’s life, and mine. And she’s agreed to be my teacher, provided that the Crown upholds its end of the bargain.”

  “The Crown has made a bargain with a witch?” A hint of amusement coated the words. “And what bargain would that be?”

  “That in your quest toward a new, more peaceful world through a possible alliance with Nautia, witches will have their voices heard as well. A seat at the table for the covens.” I stated. Silence, followed by Aydan’s hand continuing its path up and down my arm.

  “Not bad, Lady Advisor,” he said softly before kissing my head again.

  “Careful,” I told him. “I’m filthy.”

  “Sorry—here, let’s get you cleaned up.” He scooped me into his arms again and brought me to the bathroom, where he sat me on a stool and set the tub to fill. I bent to peel off my boots and let out a small cry as I did so. They had remained on my feet for the entirety of my and Hannele’s imprisonment, and though my feet had already begun to heal with the silver cuff removed, they were still painful and swollen. Some of the skin peeled back along with my socks as I pulled those off too, revealing the purplish flesh that remained. I gasped softly at the feeling of tiles beneath my feet before I stood and removed my shirt, and then the pants as well. The air felt foreign on my skin, and it wasn’t until I reac
hed up to untangle my hair that I realized how thin my arms were. All of my hard work with Alastair, wasted. I’d have to start building my strength up again as soon as he let me back in the ring.

  “Where is Alastair?” I asked, trying and failing to unwrap the braid that had become a single, long knot on the back of my head. Aydan waved a hand and it unknotted itself, falling down my back in dirty waves. Though his expression didn’t change, I could see that Aydan’s eyes were dark at the sight of my weakened body.

  “Al is in Nautia on my behalf,” he said. My eyes widened.

  “Nautia?” I repeated. He nodded. “What is he . . . ?”

  “When you went on your . . . mission,” he said, “I couldn’t focus on the Nautian deal. Alastair stepped in and continued correspondence with the Prince Regent. They’ve been having some preliminary meetings this week, which will determine whether I sit down with the Nautians in a few months’ time.”

  “I see.” I crossed the room and stepped into the full, steaming tub scented with rosemary and mint bath oils. I thought I might cry at the sensation as I lowered myself in, and a deep moan escaped me as I lay my head back and let my eyes close. I kept them closed while Aydan brought over the stool, sat beside the tub, and began to wash my hair, gently clearing the grime and dried blood from my scalp. “Kenna said you were in Ayzelle.”

  Aydan paused. “I was.”

  “Tell me about your trip,” I said. “How are things with the extended council?”

  “I wasn’t there for the council, although they thought they should have a say.”

  “In what?”

  “Planning your funeral,” he said in a low voice. I stiffened at the words. “Your note said two weeks. After one, Kenna couldn’t see Hannele anymore. At the one-month mark, Lord Declan suggested you two might have been killed and I nearly had him flogged. A few days ago . . . I was convinced that if you weren’t home by now, you must be dead.”