The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

Eliza started walking again, needing to move. Dorin trailed her.

  She stopped. Attraction. She was attracted to him. But there wasn’t some deep pull in her like there was with Thorne. It was simpler, just a basic attraction, that she might just blame on being lonely.

  Dorin stepped in front of her. “Come with me,” he said, holding out a hand. “I want to show you something.”

  Eliza bit her lip as she looked between him and the bleak weather outside the window. There wasn’t much she could do, not without Thorne. Where was the harm?

  Kay would have jumped at the opportunity, at the adventure. Kay wouldn’t have let anything hold her back. That’s what Eliza admired about her guardian; a woman who defied her court, who did what she believed was right, and who took her punishment without an ounce of fear.

  That’s who Eliza wanted to be in that moment, staring at Dorin’s outstretched hand.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around his, and let herself go.

  ~

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, unable to help the hint of curiosity that entered her voice. She looked up at the handsome young man, raised a questioning brow, before tugging hopelessly on the hand that was still gripped in his.

  He laughed softly. “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh no.” She shook her head, smiling. “No, no, no. Nope.”

  “What?” he asked, turning to her. “Are you afraid?”

  Eliza rolled her eyes. “Of what? Being alone with a stranger who plans on taking me to a secret location? Who won’t tell me where we’re going? Who could possibly be a murderer in disguise? Of course not.”

  He laughed and pulled her towards him. “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”

  She raised a sceptical brow in response, and his laughter filled the darkness once again. “Seriously though,” she said, pulling him to a stop so she could look around the corridor. It was unfurnished save for a row of faded tapestries that could barely be deciphered. There was nothing exciting about the space. “Where are you taking me?”

  Eliza’s thoughts wandered back to her brooding partner, who she hadn’t heard anything else from since his note about remaining in the city. Her stomach churned. A whole day had passed since she’d seen him, and in that time, she hadn’t been able to prevent the mess of thoughts that had arisen in his absence.

  Is something wrong? He’d tell her if there was, wouldn’t he? She hoped so, though nagging doubt had wedged itself within her.

  Why hasn’t he come back? She bit her lip. Why isn’t he here?

  Part of Eliza knew there was a chance that Thorne wasn’t just using his time in the city to find clues as to the prince’s whereabouts; he had a life outside of the mission and her, one that seemed to escape even her notice. She’d missed the strange, immortalising magic that guarded him and instead had followed her gut in trusting him.

  What did she really know about him?

  “Is everything okay?”

  Eliza looked up startled, forcing a smile onto her face. “Yeah, of course.”

  Dorin raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Anyway, where are you taking me again?”

  They resumed walking; Dorin looked over his shoulder with a crooked smile, eyes bright and hopeful.

  Hopeful. Eliza’s heart squeezed.

  Dorin stopped at a towering door and looked it over, eyes narrowed. “I should tell you now,” he started warily, “that we aren’t actually allowed in here. However, I have a key, so…”

  Without another word, Dorin slipped a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Eliza watched with bated breath as the old lock clicked over, echoing in the quiet corridor.

  The high, glass dome roof allowed for murky light to filter into the abandoned greenhouse. Light clung to the leaves of crystallised trees, bouncing off the petals of glass roses. Vines, black and murky green, slithered over the stone paths and climbed up the walls, encircling iron fixtures.

  “Wow,” Eliza breathed, pulling her hand from Dorin’s to spin in a circle. The soft patter of rain against the glass filled the space. “This place… what happened?”

  A soft smile played at his lips as he took the space in. “From what I know, this was the queen’s pride and joy. When she died, the king had it closed off. Someone built a new greenhouse on the other side of the palace.” Dorin paused and looked around, eyes glistening. “No one has been here since.”

  “Sad.” Eliza shook her head.

  Dorin shrugged. “Shame, really. Don’t you think the queen would have wanted this place to stay alive? For her?”

  “The king is still hurting,” Eliza said, surprising herself. “Twenty years and he still holds on to hope.”

  “Hope.” Eliza looked over to Dorin, who had seated himself on the rim of a stone basin. “Seems a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know.” She should have said no—that there was always going to be hope. That was why she was in Cadira, wasn’t it? To bring hope back to the people.

  Eliza watched as Dorin picked something up and dusted it off before shoving it in his pocket. She raised a questioning brow.

  “What?” he laughed, coming to stand before her. For a moment, their breaths mingled.

  Eliza’s heart quickened. Is he going to kiss me? Did she want him to? She wasn’t sure. But she hesitated a moment too long, and Thorne came to mind. Reliable Thorne, who she would be leaving with.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking a step back. “I should go.”

  “Wait, Eliza.”

  But she didn’t; Eliza hurried out of the greenhouse and didn’t look back.

  19

  WARLOCKS & HEDGES

  The icy air filled Eliza’s lungs as she stepped out of the barracks, legs shaking and arms aching. She couldn’t help but send a scathing glare in the direction of the commander, who had woken her at the crack of dawn to train, after two days of silence.

  Eliza hadn’t realised Thorne would push her so hard; the lap around the grounds served as a double warm-up, as it took them at least half an hour to complete at a fast jog. Then in the barracks, they had spent an hour working on her swordsmanship, then a half hour on integrating her magic into a fight, and then another hour on close combat with a dagger, because she couldn’t handle a sword.

  During the hours spent in the barracks and training fields, however, there was no mention of what he’d been doing in the city.

  What a thorn in my side.

  She was still waiting on the maps, and going on two days now, she couldn’t help but start feeling impatient. All she’d managed to do was research and try to keep herself from seeking out Dorin.

  Leaning against the doorway, Eliza sucked in a breath. Thorne was still inside, packing their weapons and discussing ‘important’ things with the in-house guards, but Eliza had to get out of there. Although well ventilated and open, the training space had started to feel claustrophobic after the first hour, and it had become hard for Eliza to breathe.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and a weight settled on her shoulders. She had the sudden sensation of being watched. Eliza closed her eyes, ready to reach out with her magic, but hesitated.

  An image of a shrouded figure, donning shadows as a mask, rose from the depths of her thoughts. A hulking man, smoke and darkness emitting from his shadow-cloak. Demons from the deepest pits of hell surrounded him. Soldiers of death formed his army behind him.

  He is always watching. A shudder ran down her spine. So am I.

  When she blinked, the image was gone, only a figment of her imagination.

  The barracks, situated towards the west wing of the palace, took up just enough space for the three hundred guards working the grounds, and housed their own kitchens, training facilities, board, and private stables. Thorne hadn’t given her a chance to check out the layout of the manor-styled building, but she had an idea of what it was like, especially when he mentioned that all
of the housing was located on the lower floors and underground. Connected to the lower level were tunnels that fed in and out of the palace, along with tunnels straight out of the city in case of an attack.

  Tunnels. Like she hadn’t had enough of them. During the days spent in the capital, Eliza had been more or less confined to the palace, and while she had tried to look around, she’d gotten lost one too many times.

  Sighing, Eliza looked up to the blazing sun; it gave off little heat now that winter was in full swing. They’d already heard reports that the south was being ravaged by snowstorms—“lucky for them,” Thorne had muttered—but that same weather barely touched the kingdom’s capital.

  Cold air swept through the branches of the leafless trees. Gardens surrounded the barracks, leading all the way up to the palace proper. The scattered trees—weeping-willows and giant oaks—looked strange, tangled with the crystalline shrubs and glass rosebushes that made up the gardens. Eliza couldn’t help but think the juxtaposition of foliage looked like it was out of a movie set.

  A caw sounded from the tree in front of Eliza, startling her from her thoughts. Looking up, she narrowed her eyes at the gold-eyed raven dancing along the tree branch, sleek black feathers reflecting the sunlight. As far as she could see, the Knight was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching, waiting.

  “Why the hell do you keep following me?” she whispered. Shaking her head, Eliza tried her best to turn away from the bird, when a figure across the gardens caught her eye.

  Tall and narrowly built, Henry Ivo was easy to spot. Since meeting him at the remnants of the Spring Manor, Eliza had had a feeling she’d inevitably meet the Elder again. A wariness had filled her after their initial meeting, though she couldn’t quite place where it had come from. Maybe it was because her grandfather had never mentioned him, or the fact that she still had that strange sense of recognition whenever she saw him. Something about it just didn’t sit right with her.

  Eliza stepped back into the safety of the doorway, entering the shadows, hoping the old Keeper wouldn’t catch her eye. He stopped not far from her and looked into the trees. Following his stare, she glanced warily at the branch where the raven had once stood.

  Ivo shook his head and began walking again, disappearing down a hedged pathway that led back to the castle.

  Releasing a breath, Eliza turned back to the barracks and contemplated what she should do next. There was so much she had to still do, and yet she didn’t have much to go on.

  Eliza shook her head and scrubbed a hand over her face, stifling a groan. Without any word from the king, Eliza could only go back to research or wandering the halls of the palace until someone found her.

  “What’s wrong?” Thorne asked, eyes glazed with worry. He touched her upper arm lightly, fingers warm despite the chilled air.

  Guilt seized her, but she forced a smile. “Nothing,” she said, voice thick, “everything’s fine.”

  His eyes darkened. “I was going to go into the city again, see if I can find us any more information. Since we’re stuck here until the king gives us those maps.” His brows furrowed as he looked down at her, though he hadn’t dropped his hand. “But I can stay if you want. Help you here.”

  Eliza’s mouth had gone dry, but she found herself shaking her head. “No, it’s alright. I can stay here, research. You go out and look into whatever you have.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, smile stiff. “Yes.”

  A look of disappointment flashed in his eyes.

  I have to talk to him. She opened her mouth, ready to do so, but hesitated. Magic brushed against hers, light as fingertips. She recognised it—the trace familiar to Eliza’s own magic. She reached out, heart racing, but it danced away before it could be touched. What the hell?

  “Eliza?”

  She searched the gardens, looking for… someone. Guards, servants, and nobility milled about the gardens, though none radiated familiar magic.

  “Go into the city,” she said distractedly. “I’ll see you later.”

  Eliza took off, leaving Thorne standing at the barracks. He called after her, but she ignored him.

  She dashed through the garden, heading in the direction of the palace. Several preening nobles looked in Eliza’s direction as she passed but paid her no more attention than that.

  The magic brushed against Eliza again, almost like a purr, sending shivers down her spine. She paused by a grouping of hedges and looked around.

  An arm wrapped around Eliza’s waist while a hand covered her mouth. Pulled back into a hedge, Eliza felt the leaves and branches scratch at her clothes. The hedge closed around herself and the assailant, locking them within the confines of the hedge.

  Just as quickly as before, the hands were gone. With as much space as she was given, Eliza spun around to face Amitel.

  “What the hell was that?” she asked, brushing away small twigs that had gotten caught in her clothes.

  The Warlock shrugged. “I needed to get you alone.”

  “There are better ways than giving me a heart attack,” she remarked, crossing her arms. “I could have attacked you.”

  A smile worked its way onto his lips, making his face appear younger. His eyes softened; golden hair slightly ruffled. “I’m over a thousand years old,” he purred, eyeing her. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you tried.”

  Eliza blew out a hot breath, averting her eyes. “Okay.” She drummed her fingers on her arm. “Why did you drag me into a bush?”

  “It’s a hedge,” he said with a grin. “And to give you a warning.” The smile disappeared from his face, and his eyes darkened. “Be careful with the Dark Master.”

  Eliza narrowed her eyes and stilled. “What do you know about the Dark Master?” Had he known about the master when they first met? She wondered, heart skipping a beat.

  Amitel merely shook his head, golden eyes piercing hers. “Enough to warn you to be careful.”

  “I already know that.” Her jaw clenched and she could feel her cheeks heating. “But how can I be careful when I don’t know what is really going on?”

  The Warlock was silent for a moment before replying. “I can’t tell you much.”

  “If you tell me, you’ll have to kill me?”

  Amitel was not impressed. “It could kill someone else if I tell you.”

  Eliza’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew straight away that she should take the warning seriously, even if something inside her—the childish side that didn’t want to believe any of this could be possible—couldn’t quite comprehend that this was now her life. The fear she had been trying to supress for so long reared its head.

  She gave a silent indication for Amitel to continue.

  “I heard about the attack on the troll bridge. Your every move is being watched and monitored. This city could be attacked next. You need to learn how to protect yourself and hide your tracks.”

  Amitel released a sigh, and Eliza realised then that he looked nervous, like he, too, was being watched, monitored. “I can name only one kind of magic that could potentially keep you and Commander Thorne safe.” He paused, eyes flickering over her face. “Blood Magic.”

  Eliza froze. Blood Magic? She should laugh at the absurdity of it, but the seriousness of the request chilled her.

  Amitel continued, “I know it’s dangerous—”

  “Then don’t ask!” she snapped. Her fingers trembled.

  “Eliza, listen.” His voice grew soft as he placed both his hands on her shoulders. “Blood Magic is about blood. You don’t know it yet, but you have a strong connection to your blood. Use it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, shuddering. Her voice would not go any louder than a whisper. “Why now? What’s changed?”

  Amitel’s lips thinned. He shook his head again. “The game is always changing. I’ve just decided that I want to be on the winning side. Being stuck in the middle doesn’t do me much good anymore.”

  Ey
es narrowed, Eliza stepped back and bumped into the hedge behind her. “That’s it?”

  The Warlock shrugged. “That’s all you need to know; all you should care about knowing.” Something flashed in his immortal eyes. Fear? Or shame? “By telling you this, I’ve put both of us in danger. But the Blood Witches are the only beings that can outsmart and finish off the Dark Master.”

  “Then why don’t they?” Eliza asked, suddenly angry. Red flashed across her vision. “Why don’t these all-powerful Witches stand up and actually do something about this!?” She shook her head in frustration, clenching her fists. “Oh, right, because they can’t do anything. They’ll leave it all to the little guys, or only step in when it suits them!”

  With a flick of her wrist, Eliza forced the hedge to reopen. “Next time,” she started, chest heaving with emotion, “give me information I can use, rather than useless stories that don’t help.” She didn’t turn around.

  Eliza went to take a step but froze with his next words. “The spell I used to trap you in this hedge was born of Blood Magic. You merely flicked your wrist and undid my spell without even realising it.” Fear swelled in her stomach. “Heed my words, Elizabeth Kindall, because they will help you on your mission, whether you think so or not. Beware the sands. They lie.”

  When Eliza turned around to question the Warlock further, he was gone, leaving only a pile of red sand in his wake.

  20

  THE BROTHERHOOD

  Standing on the balcony of her room, Eliza watched the darkened sky with a frown. She’d tried to avoid the room as much as possible, but with Amitel’s warning in the back of her mind and Thorne not giving her the whole truth, it was hard for her to settle down.

  Instead, she eyed the golden dragon down in the courtyard of the palace, elbows resting against the balcony-railing. She drummed her fingers against the gold detailing, frowning at the figure that cut across the gardens. He was headed towards the closed palace gates.

  Where is he going? The figure paused by a fountain, stopped by a set of guards. Thorne had told her he was going straight back into the city, but instead he’d stuck around at the palace.