The Lost Prince (The Nihryst Book 2)

by Cait Marie

  “Where is the treaty?”

  His father didn’t need to ask which treaty he meant. Only the one with Rayerna held any significance. It was also the one hanging by a thread after the former king’s actions. “Unless you’ve moved it, it’s in the library.”

  It was what Shane had expected to hear, but something in his father’s tone didn’t sit well with him. Shane leaned against the bookshelf by the fireplace, trying to hide the exhaustion threatening to make him collapse. The heat from the fire warmed his chilled core, but it also caused him to start coughing. He fought it off as casually as he could.

  His father stood with concern in his eyes—something Shane didn’t think possible anymore. He walked over to his drink cart and poured some water. He took a sip as he moved to hand it to Shane, as if proving it safe. Shane reluctantly grabbed it. When the glass was empty, the men stood in silence. Emyr took it and sat it on the small side table as he went back to his seat.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered. “Not to you.”

  Shane looked at him in confusion. “You’re the one who sent Viktor to inject me.”

  His father wouldn’t meet his glare. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  With a huff, Shane pushed off the bookshelf. Crossing his arms, he asked again, “Where is the treaty?”

  “In the library.”

  Before Shane could argue more, there was a knock on the door. He stomped over and pulled it open to a wide-eyed Gwyn. She lowered her hand, looking from him to the room beyond. He started to ask why she was there, but she pushed her way past him.

  Closing the door, he whirled around and caught her by the arm. As she turned, he whispered, “What are you doing here?”

  “I woke up and you were gone,” she hissed. “You’re exhausted, but you’re clearly here for a reason instead of resting. Maybe an unbiased party will help.”

  “I’m not biased.”

  She raised one brow and tilted her head to the side. “He’s your father. Of course you are.”

  “But he’s—”

  “I know what he is,” she interrupted. “But he’s still your father.”

  He let go with a nod and headed back to the seating area. Emyr glanced at Gwyn but otherwise did not acknowledge her.

  “I’m going to ask again,” Shane started.

  The former king turned his attention to his son. “And I will say again, it’s in the library.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gwyn asked, stepping closer.

  “I need to find the treaty,” Shane said. “I think—I don’t know. I think maybe there’s more to the one in the library we don’t know about, or maybe it’s a copy of the original and there’s a difference in the wording or something. All I know is I need to find it.”

  “That is the only one,” his father said.

  Gwyn ignored him and turned toward Shane. “How do you know that?”

  Shane swallowed. The room grew stuffy and warm, but he refused to back down. He refused to let the Kald win. “I was told to look for it.”

  “By who?” his father asked, his brow creasing in the center.

  Shoving a hand through his hair, Shane let out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where it is.”

  “You’re delusional.” The corner of the king’s mouth tilted up—the cruel sneer returning. Gone was the parental concern from earlier. “The fever is making you see things, isn’t it?”

  Shane looked to the fire, letting the bright flames burn his vision. He could at least blame it for the tears building up. It had to be hallucinations, he knew that, but it had felt so real. His mother’s hand had touched his. He’d hugged her.

  He turned back to his father with a new anger. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Or what?” Emyr crossed his arms. “You’ll lock me up?”

  When the world started to tilt, Shane put a hand against the back of the other chair to brace himself.

  “You’re sick, Shane,” his father said in a quieter tone. “You won’t be around to do anything much longer. Who will keep the mad king in check then?”

  “Ada—”

  “Adalina is off chasing fairy tales with that blasted pirate. She does not want to be chained down by a crown,” he said. “And if that damn immortal wants to keep her, he’ll need to bear that in mind.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Gwyn asked.

  But the king was finished talking. Shane saw it in the way the man clenched his jaw and looked toward the fire. Shane took a step forward, but Gwyn grabbed him before he could stumble. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “Come on,” Gwyn whispered, nearly dragging him from the room. “That’s enough for today.”

  He let her guide him back to his own bed, where he collapsed onto the mattress. Gwyn worked to get him comfortable.

  “I thought you didn’t want anyone seeing you come to the king’s room in the middle of the night?” he asked.

  “Some things are more important.” She put a hand against his cheek and sat beside him.

  “I need answers,” he said. “I don’t have time to waste.”

  “I know.”

  When she stayed quiet, he whispered, “I keep seeing my mother.”

  Gwyn froze—her body tensing beside him. She leaned over to brush the hair from his brow. “She’s who told you about the treaty?”

  Shane looked at her with wide eyes. “You believe me?”

  She hesitated. “Hallucinations are a common side effect of the Kald.” When he opened his mouth, she continued, “But the mind is a powerful tool. It is obviously telling you something you need to know. Why would you randomly think the treaty in the library is false if there wasn’t a reason?”

  He thought about that as they sat in silence. Maybe she was right, and it was his own subconscious sending him some of the clues, but how could he have possibly known about the treaty? “What if it’s real?”

  “The treaty?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, yes, but I mean… what if I am seeing my mother?”

  Gwyn opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “Like her ghost?”

  He knew it sounded absurd. Yet, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling. The more he thought about it, the more he thought maybe that was exactly what he meant. He’d never believed in ghost stories, but with how many fairy tales had come to life in recent months… “We’ve seen immortals come back from the dead. My sister is out there with them right now, looking for a magical healing flower. Is it really that hard to imagine there are ghosts?”

  Gwyn waited a moment before shaking her head and whispering, “No, I guess it’s not.”

  Words of his mother’s floated through his mind as he tried recalling her stories. She wanted him to remember, but what? When he’d first learned of Adalina leaving to find the Nihryst, he suspected his mother knew more than she’d led on. If she’d left Adalina the book and cards, knowing the truth about the prophecy, he thought she might have left something for him too. He’d brushed off the thought as jealousy at the time, but what if he was right?

  “Will you help me look?” he asked, glancing over at Gwyn.

  “Of course.”

  He smiled and placed a hand over hers.

  She glanced down and said, “I’m sorry Phillip left. If it’s because of what I told you—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “Well, kind of. We vaguely talked about it, and he left to find the cure.”

  “You talked about it?” She gave him a tentative smile. When he nodded, she asked, “Does that mean you feel the same about him?”

  Shane turned her hand over to lace their fingers together. He meant what he told Phillip, but he still wasn’t sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

  She leaned against him, lying her head on his shoulder. “Well, then, we need to get you better so you can figure it out. I will go down and work with Viktor—make sure he is actually trying to create a cure. And I will help you
look for the treaty.”

  “Thank you, Gwyn,” he whispered.

  As he thought back through everything his mother had told him in the dreams and hallucinations, and then what his father said, his head began to ache. His father’s words about Adalina not wanting the crown kept coming back to him. He knew it was true. That had never been her dream. Her destiny was so much bigger, but if he didn’t find a cure soon, she’d have no choice. That thought wracked him with guilt.

  His father was right; it was never supposed to be like this.

  Ada crossed her arms as she walked through the happy streets. The main village of the Sannwyn Isles was a peaceful one and more modern than the swampy area Nayani inhabited. Ada passed smiling people and laughing children. Music drifted across the breeze as someone played a flute from an unseen part of the market.

  After speaking with Nayani, they’d decided to return to the ship. There was no sense in delaying. Most of the crew had stayed with it while they visited the witch, and Lee didn’t like not having at least Ren or Brienne there too. As second and third in command, one of the three usually stayed with the group to lead, but he’d told Ada he thought having them there might help. He’d worried Nayani would be mystic and vague, and he’d hoped that together they might decipher the words.

  They hadn’t. If anything, they were all more confused and frustrated than before. As far as the Nihryst was concerned, they’d traveled all that way for nothing.

  Ada could not bring herself to be angry though. She got enough answers about the Heulwen to keep her hopes up. She just needed to get back to Rayerna to search through the forest.

  The sun glinting off something in a nearby booth caught Ada’s attention. As if in a daze, she wandered over to the table, leaving her small group. The large man standing behind the table gave her a skeptical look. His long, dark beard and peppered hair stood out in her mind. Ada looked around at the jewelry and relics and realized it was the same booth she’d seen on her first visit to the isles.

  “It’s still here,” she whispered, trailing a thumb across a medallion. On the front, someone had etched out and painted a golden flower intertwined with a rose. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath. Her eyes snapped up. “How much for this?”

  In a deep voice, the man said something in an unfamiliar language. Ada shook her head, trying to concentrate on his words. As he repeated it, the language began twisting in her mind, almost as the symbols in her book did. A hand landing on her shoulder made her jump, and she whirled around.

  “Why must you insist on wandering off in this market?” Amusement laced Brienne’s question.

  “Do you know the language he’s speaking?” Ada asked, ignoring her. She lifted the medallion. “Look at this. I’m trying to ask how much it is.”

  Brienne looked from the medallion to her. With a nod, she turned to speak to the man. Without asking, she reached for Ada’s coin purse at her side. She handed a couple silver pieces over, said what Ada assumed was a thanks, and then hooked an arm through Ada’s, leading her away.

  “Thank you,” Ada said over her shoulder. When the man nodded, she glanced back down at the painted bronze in her hand. “You see it, right?”

  “I see it.” Brienne pulled her along.

  Ada barely noticed the other vendors. She immediately searched for Lee when they reached the ship.

  “He’s in the cabin,” Ren said as they passed him on deck.

  “And Phillip?” She hadn’t seen him either. He’d stayed so quiet during the trip, and it ate away at her.

  “I’ll find him,” Brienne said. “He’s probably below. Go show Lee.”

  Ignoring Ren’s raised brow, Ada moved toward the closed cabin door. She went in and froze. On the cot in the corner, Lee sat with his head in his hands. She closed the door, but he didn’t look up. She walked over and sat beside him. When he still didn’t move, she put the medallion down and wrapped her arms around him.

  “We’re no closer now than we were months ago.” Agony filled his voice, and he dropped his hands.

  Ada kissed his cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”

  He finally lifted his eyes to her. “Isn’t that my line?”

  She gave him a sad smile before grabbing the medallion. “Look at this.”

  While he examined it, she held her breath.

  “The flowers…” His words trailed off as he met her eyes once more. “Where did you find this?”

  She told him about the vendor and how it was the same one he’d pulled her away from during their first visit. The main piece fit within her palm—it wasn’t large, but it was thick.

  “It looks like it should open.” She pointed to a small, carved dagger at the bottom that looked like a clasp. She’d tried while walking back, but it wouldn’t budge. “I can’t get it to open.”

  Lee tilted the medallion around, looking from different angles as he tried to open it. After a few more tries, he sighed.

  “I think it might just be decoration.” He stood and moved in front of her. Lifting the chain, he put it around her neck and slowly let it rest against her chest. His fingers lingered on the metal. “It’s a beautiful design, but that’s all it is.”

  She shook her head. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She’d seen the piece twice now. And it fit their quests too closely to ignore. She put her hand over his. “Lee, we need to go back to Rayerna.”

  Pulling away, he let out a frustrated huff and moved to lean against the table. “There is no proof the flower exists apart from stories and the words of a supposed witch. It was bad enough when we thought there was a chance there could be a few, but one single flower?”

  “I don’t have any other options.” She scooted back, drawing her feet up under her. “We have to find it.”

  Lee crossed his arms and looked at the floor. “I can’t just go traipsing through an entire forest, looking for a magical flower. Ada, even if it does exist, it hasn’t been seen in centuries. It’s time to move on and look for another way to cure your brother.”

  “And what do you suggest?”

  Her cold tone had his eyes snapping back up to hers.

  “Stealing more supplies from kingdoms that will need them just as much if this continues to spread? It won’t stop people from dying. It only prolongs the inevitable.” Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes. Quietly, she added, “We can’t keep that up forever.”

  “I can.”

  She met his gaze.

  “If we don’t break the curse, I will be around forever.”

  “Lee—”

  “Don’t,” he cut her off. Straightening, he rolled up his sleeves to his elbow as he turned toward the door. “Just don’t.”

  Shane threw another sheet to the side. He’d overturned almost every inch of the spare room in the east wing and moved on to the next. It had to be there somewhere.

  “You need to find it,” his mother’s voice insisted.

  “I know!” He tossed a chair aside before falling to his knees. A ragged breath tore from his lungs. He’d searched for hours to no avail. Gwyn had gone home the night before with the promise of returning, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing in this room or any of the others he’d gone through. Tugging the ends of his hair, he hunched over and whispered, “I know.”

  A hand touched his shoulder, and he let out a sob. The hallucinations—or ghosts—were becoming too much.

  “Shane,” a soft voice said.

  He turned to find Melanie kneeling beside him. She pulled him into her arms without hesitation, and he didn’t fight it. The lady’s maid was once his nursemaid. Without Adalina around to wait on, she’d moved about the castle offering help where she could.

  Just as she always had.

  The woman was there throughout his tough times after his mother’s death. She knew of his nightmares and guilt—of the darkness that consumed him. He took her comfort gratefully.

  “It is all going to be all right,” she said in a soothing tone.

  It
only broke him down more. She tightened her hold as he whispered, “No, it’s not.”

  She didn’t say anything more. A hand rubbed his back, and she continued to hold him on the cold, dirty floor. When he at last calmed down, Melanie helped him to his feet and brushed off the dust from their clothes.

  As she led him from the room, he said, “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  While Melanie was only fifteen years older than him, she had always treated him like a son. She had a motherly air about her, even when she was younger. She began working for the royal family when she was barely an adult.

  “Do you remember when your mother used to hold you at night after a nightmare?” she asked as they walked toward the stairs. “She told you stories to distract you.”

  He nodded, and they descended to the main floor.

  “Your father was always a harsh man,” she said quietly, as if afraid he might overhear. “He was caring with you children before the queen’s death, but even then, he angered too easily for the smallest things.”

  Shane stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Vague memories of his father yelling at him flooded in. He remembered that anger—that need for control. But his mother had always made it better.

  A flash of a time he’d hidden from his father came to him. He’d never seen the king so mad or vicious at that point. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. The king had caught him playing in his study and yelled so hard his face turned red. Shane ran crying from the room after his father smacked him. His mother had snatched Shane up in the hall and taken him away.

  “Your Majesty,” a page said, running to them and snapping Shane back to the present.

  “Yes?” Shane shook his head to clear it of the memory.

  “Th—there’s a woman,” the boy stuttered. “She’s crying in your room, sire.”

  Shane turned to Melanie, who looked as confused as he felt. To the boy, he said, “Thank you.”

  The page bowed and took off. With the maid at his side, Shane rushed to the main staircase and up to the third floor. The two guards outside his father’s door stood at attention, but as he approached, one of them turned.