The Lost Prince of Cadira (Shadowland Saga Book 1)

by Stephanie Anne

  Her chest tightened as Dorin’s eyes bored into hers. “I like you, Eliza. A lot. And I don’t want to ruin whatever is between us by keeping secrets from you. I promise I don’t know any more than you do. You have my word.”

  Eliza swallowed thickly. All she could do was nod.

  Could she believe what he was telling her? The sincerity shined in his eyes, and although she didn’t want to believe him—not fully, at least—she couldn’t help but trust that what he said was true.

  Finally, she sighed. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

  Dorin stood and held out his hand, a half-smile tipping his lips. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “I promise.”

  Something churned inside Eliza’s stomach, but she took his hand, warm and soft and familiar. The light of his eyes brightened, which sent Eliza’s heart racing. “Alright,” she replied. “You better.”

  His smile turned into a grin. “When I make a promise, I mean it.”

  “I’m sure.” Eliza stood from the table and left two silver pieces for the wine, which still sat untouched. She really had to remember she wasn’t great with wine. When she was fourteen, she’d stolen a bottle from Kay and had passed it around with a couple of kids who lived near her, thinking it would help her make friends.

  It hadn’t. Instead she’d wasted her first kiss and had been left with a major hangover. She’d learnt her lesson.

  Eliza stared down at her hand, still clasped in Dorin’s, and flushed. It took her a moment to pull her hand from his.

  The sun dipped lower towards the horizon, but the day wasn’t over yet. Daylight—and the heat that clung to it—stayed longer. It touched Port Beewold and left the seaside villagers working long into the warm night. Eliza saw the exhaustion on the faces of the men and women who continued to slave away at the docks.

  “I’m going to go find us some food for travel,” Dorin said, making a face. “I should help Celia.”

  Eliza nodded, sparing the wooden stairs a glance. If she went up there, she’d be left alone with Thorne. Maybe Dorin was giving them a chance to talk.

  “Okay,” she said, smiling. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Sucking in a breath, Eliza braved the stairs. It’s going to be fine, she thought. But she couldn’t know that, not with Thorne. Since they’d met, he’d been secretive, and for the most part, she’d brushed it off. She had no right to know all his secrets, but the longer they were together, the more she’d realised how much he knew and wasn’t telling her.

  The Brotherhood, the Ecix, his connection to Celia… there was so much he had yet to reveal, and it weighed heavily on her shoulders.

  Eliza hesitated before the door to their room, hand hovering above the doorknob. She closed her eyes. It won’t be that bad, she thought.

  Releasing a heavy breath, Eliza entered the room.

  Thorne looked up from the bed, his stormy eyes wide. “Eliza,” he said, voice somewhat breathy.

  She swallowed thickly. “We need to talk.”

  “Eliza—”

  “Wait.” She closed the door behind her, closing them in. “Let me just say something.”

  Hesitantly, she made her way to the other bed in their dingy room and sat. “I know you don’t have to tell me everything,” she said, meeting his heated stare. “I know there are things you probably don’t think you can tell me. But there are things you are keeping from me; things that could have made this mission so much easier. I just want to know why.”

  Thorne stayed quiet for a moment. No emotions showed on his face. Eliza couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to respond.

  But he sighed and shook his head. “I wish I could tell you everything,” he murmured. “I really do. But there are things I cannot reveal.”

  “Things you cannot reveal?” she asked, scoffing. “Bullshit, Thorne. Can’t, or won’t?”

  His eyes hardened. “Enough.”

  “Seriously? What about the Ecix? Or the Brotherhood? Or maybe the real reason why you’re even helping me? It has something to do with Celia and your past, I know it does. And who is Isolde?”

  Thorne’s jaw ticked as he rose. “I said enough.”

  Eliza shook her head, disappointment shuddering through her. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Fine.” She didn’t spare Thorne a glance as she turned her back on him and dropped into the seat by the window. Closing her eyes, Eliza fought back tears, and waited for Celia and Dorin to return.

  ~

  Blood dripped from a cut on her hand, pooling until it mixed with the dirt beneath her bare feet. It dripped onto her dress, staining the white cloth red. But she let it fall.

  Around her, there was nothing but blood.

  Pools of it surrounded her until all she could see was a crimson ocean. It fell from the sky like a horrendous rain, but none of it touched her. No, she was only wet with her own. It left a bitter, rusty taste on the tip of her tongue, filling her nostrils.

  “This is what you will become,” a voice whispered in her ear. She spun, finding only emptiness. “You will destroy everything.”

  She spun again. Tears pooled in her eyes as she waited for something to jump out at her, as she waited for some sign that she was not alone.

  But nothing came.

  Eliza stepped away from her little island, stepping into the crimson river before her. She walked through it, noting how it only came up to her ankles. The hem of her dress turned red, veins of crimson seeping up the cloth.

  “Hello?” she called out before stopping. She twisted again and realised that her little island was nowhere to be seen. The maroon liquid sloshed as she stepped towards it and stopped again. “Is anybody here?”

  More blood rained around her. She released a shaky breath as she gazed at her bare arms. Still, though, it did not touch her.

  Fear swelled in her heart and pounded through her veins. At her sides, her fingers twitched. She could hear her own blood thrumming in her ears, drowning out the soft patter of red rain around her.

  Something sounded above her, and she looked up, stifling a gasp with her hand. The tears that had pooled in her eyes now finally fell as she beheld the source of the blood rain.

  Thousands of people hanging from the sky, dead.

  Thousands of people looked down at her, dead.

  Thousands of people, dripping blood, dead.

  Eliza screamed, and screamed, and screamed, until her voice went hoarse. She screamed until her throat burned, but kept screaming anyway, because she knew she couldn’t escape the horror above her.

  “This is what you will do,” the voice whispered in her ear. “You will be destruction, and plight. You will bring famine and death and war. You will be the greatest weapon Cadira has ever seen, and you will pay for it.”

  Ominous chanting sounded in her ears and she fought back a wave of nausea. Above her, something—someone—shifted amongst the hanging corpses. It dropped heavily into the river, shrouded in darkness and shadow. It was the voice, she realised, but it was not the source of the chanting that steadily grew louder in her ears until it was a constant buzz.

  “You did this,” the dark figure said, voice barely audible over the continuous chanting. “I will make you pay for what you have done.”

  It appeared before her within a blink of an eye, just an arm’s length away. It struck out with the force of a freight-train and sent her into the air, landing in the blood.

  More of her own blood seeped through her dress, now at her chest. Eliza touched a shaking hand to the wound and pulled back quickly, crying out in pain.

  “You will suffer, just as they have.” The figure came at her again but froze. It growled, low and hungry. “The power of the Ecix will once and for all die.”

  It struck again, and the world fell away.

  She was dead.

  Eliza cried out as the dream finally disappeared, reeling from the pain that shattered her chest. The whisper of the shadow weapon burned against her flesh. She could almost feel the blood
dripping onto her chest, feel the life draining from her as it stood over her.

  “Eliza?” Celia hovered over her, hand covering her mouth. Thorne and Dorin were at her side a moment later, eyes wide. “Oh my…” she trailed off, reaching for Eliza.

  Although pain and weariness still coursed through her, Eliza was lucid enough to understand something wasn’t right as Celia pulled back the blanket that covered her.

  Celia whitened as she stared down at Eliza’s chest. “Brandon, I need a medical kit. Eliza, I want you to lay very still, please.”

  Blinking rapidly, Eliza ignored Celia as she touched a hand to her chest. When she pulled away, real pain shot through her, and she whimpered.

  In the lamp light, Eliza could just make out the blood that stained her fingers before passing out.

  ~

  “And you do not remember anything about the dream?” Celia asked again, dragging her eyes over Eliza’s body. She paused at the steadily healing wound on Eliza’s chest. Blood and puss seeped through the gaping cut, but so far, there had been no change to Eliza’s health.

  Eliza shook her head tiredly. “No, I don’t,” she lied, pushing back the memory of the hanging bodies and the blood river. “I just remember pain and waking up with this.” She gestured to the cut. In her dream, it had killed her, though her real, physical wound was only a quarter of an inch deep at least. But it stretched over her chest, going from beneath her right breast, over her ribs, until it ended at her heart.

  The lie had tasted bitter on her tongue, like the blood had in her dream. But if she’d admitted what the dream had been about, then it would have been too real for her. The lie was better, safer.

  Celia ran a hand through her tousled hair. Since Eliza had passed out, she hadn’t seen Thorne or Dorin, and whenever she asked where they were, Celia brushed off her questions. Instead, she’d dragged a chair over to sit beside Eliza’s bed, a plethora of clean bandages at the ready.

  “We should already be on the road,” Eliza said. “If this is happening now, then we must be getting close!”

  “No,” Celia said with a frantic shake of her head. Fear blossomed in her clear-blue eyes. “You need to rest, Eliza. Whatever it was that attacked you was a warning. Something was sending you a message.”

  The door to their small room opened; Dorin entered first, sandy hair in disarray. He dropped a bag of what looked like fruit onto the spare bed, weary eyes finding Eliza’s almost immediately.

  Thorne was slower to enter, his body rigid. Eliza could see the tension in his shoulders and neck from her position on the bed. When had he last slept? And what had they been doing?

  Eliza looked between them questioningly, a frown creasing her brow.

  “What happened out there?” Celia asked, knotting her fingers in her lap.

  Dorin took a seat on Eliza’s bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “There are certainly some interesting rumours spreading through the port. Many are trying to travel south.”

  Eliza straightened, wincing. “South? Why?”

  Thorne dragged a chair to the end of the bed and sat, meeting her gaze warily. Dark circles lined his eyes. “A couple of pirates who docked here told us an army for hire walked into the desert and just… disappeared. Only one survived to tell the captain.”

  Dorin dragged his eyes from Thorne to Eliza. “The man then killed himself shortly after giving his report.”

  Celia sucked in a breath, resting her hand over Eliza’s. “That’s horrible.”

  “But how is that even possible?” Eliza finished, shifting anxiously in the bed. “I’ve heard of protective magic that could perhaps cause an illusion like that, but I don’t know about making an entire army disappear.”

  Dorin shook his head. “Mesah, I think, exists outside the normal parameters of magic. It is ancient. Whatever happened…”

  “Well, it’s a good thing we won’t be going through the desert,” Eliza said. “We’ll be going under.”

  Thorne met her stare evenly, no trace of fear in his eyes. “We leave at nightfall,” he said finally, breaking her stare. “As soon as Eliza can move, we leave. If people are fleeing, then we need to use the coverage to go north.”

  Eliza spared Dorin a glance. “Will that help?”

  “Of course,” he said with a smile. Eliza’s heart fluttered. “Demons could be on the hunt for us now that we’re getting close. We should use whatever distraction is at our disposal.”

  “Good.” Thorne stood, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “We have three hours. Will you be okay to move by then, Eliza?”

  She nodded, feeling Celia’s grip on her hand tighten. If she had her way, Eliza was sure Celia would try and keep them there longer. But Eliza itched to move, to reach the desert… and find the prince.

  29

  STARGAZING

  Pain sliced through Eliza’s chest as she awoke from another fitful sleep. Her head ached with the reminder of her nightmares; shadow creatures wielding weapons made of darkness, a war so ancient people whispered its name, and a girl whose destiny it was to die, over and over again.

  Eliza touched a hand to her chest lightly. The bandages that wrapped over her chest and shoulder were damp with sweat, the poultice Celia had smeared across the wound sour under the Mesah sun. The pain didn’t recede though, even as she pulled the white cloth away to see the scar that marred the top of her breast and sliced down to her sternum, stopping at the top of her torso. Magic had healed it enough over the last couple of days.

  “If you keep touching it,” Celia said, rising from her bedroll, “it won’t heal.”

  “You sound like one of my guardians,” Eliza muttered, but she let the bandage go. She searched the campsite for Thorne, but he was nowhere in sight. “Where—?”

  Celia sighed. “Checking the perimeter.”

  Eliza nodded, quiet. Since she’d confronted him, Thorne had grown more distant. She wasn’t entirely sure if it had something to do with her confronting him, or something else, but Eliza couldn’t deny that they’d grown apart since the attack on her at the palace.

  “Let us go for a walk,” Celia said, reaching for Eliza’s hand.

  Despite the exhaustion clinging to the edges of Eliza’s mind, she nodded, and climbed to her feet. She winced at the ache in her chest but pushed it from her head. I just need to do something to help, she thought. Since the dream, everyone had been hesitant around her, wary. Celia’s behaviour mirrored a doting grandmother who watched over a sick child.

  Eliza was, for the most part, sick of it.

  Celia hefted one of their bags over her shoulder. Dorin didn’t look up from the fire as they passed. His head was in a book, sandy hair falling over his forehead.

  Hesitantly, Eliza touched his shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.”

  Dorin blinked and met her stare. For a moment, a dark look passed through his eyes. But it passed, and a smile spread across his lips. “I’ll let the commander know when he returns.”

  Eliza nodded, and said nothing else as Celia guided her through the trees that surrounded their campsite. Since they’d arrived the day before, Eliza hadn’t braved leaving the camp to explore the forest. It would be the last forest they’d likely see for a while. Mesah and the surrounding villages were bordered by sand, the closest jungle miles from their destination.

  “What’s the plan?” Eliza asked, stepping warily over a boulder. “Because I doubt we’re just going for a casual walk through the forest.”

  Celia smiled over her shoulder. “Brandon told me there was a small clearing filled with flowers. I hope to find you something to help you sleep.”

  The clearing appeared ahead. Light filtered through the trees to create a whimsical scene of tranquillity and quiet, like it had been stolen right out of a fairy-tale.

  “I am glad you came,” Celia said, smile soft as she knelt by the base of an old, weathered tree. Red darkened her cheeks as she met Eliza’s stare. “I thought you would not be up to it.”


  Eliza shrugged, sparing Celia a smile as she wandered over to another tree in the clearing. Growing in a small patch of sunlight, surrounded by tall green grass, white-petaled chamomile grew in small patches. A ladybug so dark Eliza almost couldn’t see its black spots climbed over one of the flowers before buzzing off to land on a collection of wildflowers at the edge of the clearing.

  “Collecting herbs is quick, easy,” Eliza said quietly. The last time she’d done something like this, she’d been with Kay. Their herb garden back home had been large enough with a variety of different plants, both from the mortal world and Cadira. Sundays had been their day of collection, gathering the plants and preparing them for being dried and sampled. “Anyways, two sets of hands are better than one.”

  Something about the clearing nagged at Eliza, before a memory sprung to mind: a lake and two girls, wildflowers and talks of the end. Eliza shook her head. It had been a dream, and yet… she couldn’t shake it from her mind. Because… Celia looked an awful lot like the girl from the dream.

  Impossible. Eliza had seen Celia twice at the ball, and that had been why she’d dreamt of Celia. There was no other reason.

  The smile on Celia’s face faltered for a moment before she sighed. “Is there something wrong, Eliza?”

  “No,” Eliza said, shaking her head. She sighed, bringing her knees to her chest, sitting in the tall grass. She rested her chin on her knees, eyes averted. “I just… I feel like I’m missing something. Like everyone knows something that I don’t.” She eyed the swaying grass. “There’s a whole part of my past that I don’t know about. And there is so much that I don’t feel like I can tell you or Thorne or Dorin. And I think that means they can’t talk to me, either.”

  Celia dropped to the grass beside Eliza and rested her hand on Eliza’s shoulder. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “It’s okay. You can talk to me if you need to. I will not pass judgement or criticise, for my own life is not entirely complete and open either.”