The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  Only once did a servant pass Eliza, but the farther she went, the quieter it became, until Eliza was standing alone before a bolted door. Cobwebs that shimmered like diamonds glittered in the corners, and when Eliza tried the handle, dust covered her hand.

  The door opened on creaking hinges to reveal a round room. Dusty red drapes lined the walls in all directions, and a black grand piano stood on the other side of the room. The floor was a giant mosaic of what Eliza could only assume was the Fae Territory; a giant forest, the tips of the pine trees reaching the piano. The twin moons of Cadira, one full and one crescent, could be seen hidden beneath the piano.

  Hidden in the dusty trees, Eliza made out the sharp faces of the Fae.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Eliza jumped and spun around. The man standing behind her had silver-threaded brown hair that reached his shoulders, and hazel eyes shadowed with age. Lines marred his square face, and his lips were pressed into a thin, unyielding line.

  He wore a navy-blue jerkin tucked into black breeches and knee-high boots. All his buttons glimmered gold even in the limited light. There was a flush to his pale cheeks, almost hidden behind a beard.

  “Well?” he asked impatiently, tapping his foot.

  Eliza looked around, searching for guards who were ready to kick her out on her butt. Yet none came. “I… Sorry, I got lost.”

  He lifted a brow before sighing. “Miss Kindall, you should not be wandering around the palace alone. His Majesty has requested that you be watched.”

  “Watched?” she asked, heart thundering. “What does he think is going to happen? And who are you?”

  The man bowed his head briefly, though the look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t impressed with her. “I am Advisor Inko. The king is worried that danger might come to you.”

  “I should be safe at the palace, though.”

  Advisor Inko nodded. “We also thought you would be safe at the Winter Palace, but you weren’t. This palace is large, Miss Kindall, and while we take great measures to ensure the safety of everyone within these walls, there are still ways one can get in, especially if they are after something.”

  A shiver danced down Eliza’s spine. There are still ways one can get in. Rather than risk any more embarrassment—being berated by a man she didn’t know and who clearly knew of her was bad enough—Eliza nodded solemnly and stepped out of the dust-covered room, moving around the advisor as he closed the door behind her.

  “What’s the room for?” Eliza asked. She twiddled her fingers as the advisor peered down at her with furrowed brows.

  “It used to be a smaller ballroom, but it hasn’t been used in over twenty years.” He started walking, Eliza hurrying to catch up. “The king would prefer that you didn’t poke around the palace.”

  Of course, he would. Eliza tried not to snort as the advisor guided her back to the palace entrance. What else was she supposed to do?

  ~

  Eliza proceeded to get lost another four times—two more ballrooms, and two court gatherings, and each time she was conveniently saved by the king’s advisor, who in the end strictly decided Eliza shouldn’t roam the palace on her own. Or at all.

  Someone doesn’t like babysitting duty, she thought, crossing her arms. She watched the advisor leave her in what she hoped was the hallway where her room was. He hadn’t specified where she was, though she doubted he’d give her any more clarification than stay put.

  Eliza sighed and looked down either end of the hall. There were no servants dancing around her, no guards peering down at her through the slits in their helmets. The advisor’s footsteps had long since faded, now but a distant memory.

  What am I going to do now?

  “Lost?”

  For the second time that day, Eliza almost jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to face a grinning spirit; half hidden by the wall. His face was youthful, round, but the glimmer in his eyes told Eliza he was older than he looked.

  “Actually, you look bored,” he said, cocking his head in a bird-like manner. Russet hair fell over his face as he looked her over. “I could show you something fun.”

  Eliza cocked a brow. “Aren’t you surprised that I can see you?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first. Doubt you’ll be the last,” he said with a shrug. “So, you in?”

  Her heart pounded, and her uncertainty wavered; the advisor had told her to stay put, to stop looking around. But he had told her to stop wandering around on her own. If she had a spirit to guide her through the palace…

  “Alright,” she said with a sigh. “What do I have to lose? Think you can get me to the library?”

  The young boy snorted. “Of course. Is that where you were trying to go before?” He disappeared behind the wall, voice but a whisper as he continued, “You have a terrible sense of direction.”

  The wall the spirit had disappeared behind groaned, a section splitting off from the rest of the hall. It disappeared into darkness, setting Eliza’s nerves on edge.

  “Are you going to be helpful?” she asked, sparing the young spirit an irritated glance. She stepped into the darkness and looked around, jumping as the door closed. “Or are you going to spin me in circles?”

  “I’m going to help,” he said. There was a spark of light, and the thin corridor they had entered lit up with candles hidden behind dusty glass sconces. A cheeky grin spread across his dead face. “This way.”

  Eliza followed the spirit despite the uncertainty that swirled in her gut. As they walked, Eliza noticed indentations in the walls where doors would be, and occasionally they stumbled across rickety stairs that reached for the upper or lower levels.

  Maybe I should have just asked the advisor for help.

  Dust rose with every step Eliza took. “What is this?”

  “An old servants’ passage.”

  She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face. “They don’t use this one anymore?”

  The boy looked back at her. “Nope. Couple of servants died in here. Guards too. You’ll see soon. Closed this one up.”

  Eliza shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Then why have you brought me in here? Is it even safe?”

  Oh, Gods, what have I gotten myself into?

  She could almost imagine the horror movie scene she was walking into: darkness, rattling chains and creaking floorboards, the bitter, metallic smell of dried blood, and then—

  The young boy stopped and turned to her. There were no indents in the walls where the doors should have been. Where the hell am I?

  “You’ve gotten me lost, haven’t you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. His body grew transparent. “Have fun getting out.”

  “No!” Eliza lunged like she could hold on to him, like she could drag him into the dark with her. But the boy vanished, leaving her alone in the dusty passage with only the lights of the flickering candles to keep her company.

  I’m going to have to walk all the way back and find a door, aren’t I? She just hoped a little bit of magic would get her out of her sticky situation.

  So, she started walking, keeping her footsteps light, remembering the deaths that the spirit had listed. Part of her wanted to brush it off, but with the amount of dust that coated the passage… She could at least be sure no one used the passage anymore.

  “Why did I do this?” she wondered aloud. “I could have said no. I could have walked away or found my room. But no. I just had to—”

  She broke off with a screech as a panel in the wall beside her opened. A hand grasped hers and pulled her out into the bright hall of the palace.

  Eliza spun to face the handsome young man from the day before; his sandy hair swept over his brow as he looked down at her, an amused quirk to his full lips. Laughter danced in his eyes as he looked her over; it was then that Eliza realised the state of her clothes and hair, which were both dusty and ridden with cobwebs.

  “That didn’t sound like fun,” he mused, releasing her arm. With both hands f
ree, she watched silently as he toyed with a candelabra, which pushed the wall back into place. “Although I’m not sure how you managed to stumble across something like this.”

  I stupidly followed a ghost in there. Then he left me. Little shit. She didn’t say that. Instead, Eliza shrugged, cheeks warm. “I got dropped off by the king’s advisor. He told me to stay put, and…”

  “And instead you decided to play with the walls?” His eyes were pretty as they danced between her and the now sealed door. Eliza could almost imagine it hadn’t been there to start with. “Something could have happened. It isn’t safe.”

  She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Yeah, I know, I got the memo from Advisor Inko. Don’t wander around the palace alone.” She sighed. “Look. I just need to get to the library.”

  “All you had to do was ask.”

  The young man lifted his hand in an ‘after you’ kind of gesture. Eliza began walking, her stride slow. There was something about him that drew her in. The better part of her was telling her to not follow, to do as the advisor instructed and go back to her room. But the curious side wanted to know more—about the palace, the world, and maybe about him.

  But something deep within her forced her to keep walking with the young man. “I’m Eliza, by the way,” she said, offering him a smile.

  His own smile widened. “Dorin.”

  Her grin widened to match his. Looking away, Eliza tried not to think too hard on her current situation, especially with Thorne always in the back of her mind, reminding her of all the complications in her life.

  She was good at not getting tangled in the webs of boys and broken hearts. When she looked at Dorin, she could tell that’s exactly where this charming man would leave her. There was no point in befriending him. In the end, it would prove more trouble than good. It could get him killed.

  As it was, the maps would arrive in a matter of days. She and Thorne would be gone, off to Mesah, and she’d likely never see Dorin again.

  They stopped at a set of doors; Dorin bowed at the waist, smile still playing at his lips. High above them, the windows let in golden light that reached Dorin’s sandy hair. In this light, it looked almost golden, like the halo of an angel.

  Eliza cleared her throat, reaching for the library door. “Thanks for your help,” she said.

  “That’s alright.” He turned to leave but stopped. “Honestly? This is going to sound strange, but I’m kind of glad I got to see you again, even if I was saving you from a servants’ passage.”

  A smile cracked Eliza’s face, and she laughed. “My hero.”

  Those wide green eyes, framed by dark lashes, brightened. “Always, Milady.” He took a step back, then another. “Until we meet again.”

  Eliza hadn’t the heart to point out that might not happen; if the maps arrived tomorrow, then she’d be gone, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever return.

  18

  LIBRARIES & STORMS

  Eliza gazed longingly at a pile of palace records. If she were going to discover anything about herself, then surely, it’d be in there. She’d managed to find records from the year she’d arrived in New Orleans, though she wasn’t even sure if the dates would correlate. How long after the attack had she spent in Cadira? Had she gone directly to New Orleans with Davis? Or had she been at the palace?

  If only I could remember.

  Biting her lip, she dragged the records to her. I’ll look into the prince, she promised herself, though who was she kidding?

  The first several pages were nothing more than stock intake, servant names—Eliza dog-eared that page, just in case—but paused at what looked like a new addition. The page had been shoved in and pasted down, the ink bleeding as if the writer had been rushed.

  Eliza skimmed the contents warily:

  Bastian had two legitimate children: Princess Emmylia, second of her name, Heir to the throne of Cadira, and Prince Alicsar, third of his name.

  However, King Bastian also has one known bastard child. It is rumoured that he sold the child to Witches in order to hide it from the court and his wife. The child was never spoken of again. Some believe that the child never existed, and that its mother—who has remained anonymous for many years—has never been found.

  Eliza’s brows rose in surprise, though she wasn’t sure why. Monarchs always had bastard children. Well, she amended, maybe not always. But most of the time. Eliza couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if the king were presented with his bastard child. With a second option.

  She shook her head, disgusted in herself. They’re people, not objects.

  There was nothing else about the supposed bastard, leaving Eliza with more questions than answers. There was nothing about herself, either.

  Her disappointment flared; sighing, Eliza reached for a geographical tome about Mesah and slid the thin, red leather-bound book towards her. The face was worn soft, the corners bent with age.

  Mesah, for the most part of a millennium, has been overrun with ancient magic unfamiliar to even the Blood Witches of the Labyrinth Mountains.

  Eliza rubbed at her eyes. Yeah, she thought, no shit. Sighing, Eliza looked back to the page with bleary eyes, thoughts drifting back to Thorne and his whereabouts, and then to Dorin, who seemed to be at the edge of her mind. She couldn’t escape it.

  And again, she read.

  ~

  Rain thundered outside her room; the downpour hadn’t stopped since early this morning, flooding the streets and games park of the palace, leaving most confined to shelter. Thorne had sent word to her, again, telling her he’d be somewhere in the city until the evening, and it left her stomach churning.

  Eliza hadn’t seen him since arriving at the palace the day before.

  She hadn’t bothered leaving her room, anyway, too wrapped up in palace records and books she’d borrowed from the library. Her fingers skimmed the weathered pages, careful as she flipped through the pages of a dusty tome. Every new passage had her heart accelerating as if she expected to find an entry about her past. But disappointment flared every time she found nothing.

  Why am I not surprised? I mean, it’s not like the king is going to keep a detailed record of my life laying around. Still, it left her feeling more disappointed than she had been over the tunnels. Something as simple as finding the names of her birth parents shouldn’t be as hard as it was proving to be.

  Groaning, Eliza flopped back on the bed and scrubbed tiredly at her eyes. It was already nearing midday, she was hungry and a heavy feeling of foreboding had settled on her chest and wouldn’t lift. It had been like that since she’d entered the city and hadn’t lifted since.

  With Thorne out doing whatever it was he was doing, Eliza wondered what her next course of action should be. She was still waiting on the maps of old Cadira, ones that might reveal to her the locations of the portals and the tunnels. It was a long shot, given that Henry Ivo had already told her that those kinds of records were kept under lock-and-key.

  But why hadn’t the Elders shared that knowledge earlier? Probably because they didn’t care. What’s one prince in the grand scheme of things?

  With a shake of her head, Eliza slipped from her bed and pulled a heavy coat over her shoulders. Her spell book fit into a satchel, resting beside a book of Cadiran history that Eliza had pulled from the library. If Thorne wasn’t there to help her, then perhaps she could find something to help herself.

  At least now she knew how to get from her room to the library without trapping herself in the walls or walking in on court meetings.

  Eliza dodged servants with tea-trays, their faces blank and eyes cautious. They all wore simple clothing: white aprons over beige or black dresses, slacks and simple tunics and vests. Every so often, Eliza thought she saw Clio, with her fiery red hair and enthralling green eyes, but the familiar face was lost amongst those of the living.

  Clio was dead—spirit bound to the Winter Palace—or gone. Eliza would not round a corner and face Clio again.

  The thought b
rought up bile in Eliza’s throat.

  “Eliza!” She paused at the landing of the stairs and waited as Dorin—bright eyed and grinning, cheeks pink with the cold—caught up with her. He was dressed casually, black breeches and a deep-green sweater sprinkled with rain. His boots were wet. “Hi.”

  Eliza’s heart fluttered, though she tried to stop herself from showing anything more than pleasantness. “Hey.”

  “Haven’t gotten lost again, I see.” He looked her over with a smirk. “Shame. Looks like my services have been rendered useless.”

  Eliza couldn’t help but smile. What is it about him? she wondered. This is just a shallow appreciation of a pretty boy, she decided, nothing else. What do I even know about him?

  She forced herself to start walking again, to make her way down the stairs. Guards peered up at her through the slits in their helmets but didn’t make to step towards her or speak.

  Dorin followed close behind, the sweet smell of rain and wet grass following his movements. At the foot of the stairs, Eliza paused and looked up at him.

  “Look, Dorin, I know you mean well…”

  “Oh no,” he said, cocking his head. “You’re going to tell me to go away, aren’t you?”

  Eliza’s cheeks blazed, shame mingling with guilt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Dorin smiled sadly. “I get it. You have better things to do. And not to mention your… friend.”

  “Friend?” she asked, brows rising. Eliza’s cheeks blazed a fierce red now. She crossed her arms over her chest tightly and gave him an embarrassed laugh. “The commander? He’s my friend and nothing more.”

  Now Dorin’s cheeks blazed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

  “It’s alright.” Eliza shook her head and laughed again, earning a timid smile from Dorin. “We work together. That’s why we’re here.”