The Wayward Prince (The Redfern Legacy Book 1)

by N. C. Hayes

  People lined the room. I could feel their magic, I realized. Defensive, like they were all preparing for an attack. Hundreds of Medeisian men and women dressed in finery crowded the walls. Men in tailored jackets embellished with fine embroidery, ladies in layered skirts that ballooned out around them in shades of brown, gray, and green. Several powdered wigs were dotted throughout the crowd, accompanied with makeup so heavy, it looked as though it might crack if one managed a smile. As we moved forward in the room, I felt the power come in waves. It dawned on me that I must be sensing the magic of the sorcerers, and lack thereof from the mortals, as we passed each row of people. Those watching remained silent as we were marched toward what—or rather, who—awaited us on the other end.

  Upon a dais at the far end of the great hall was a solid white marble throne, and upon that sat King Zathryan of Medeisia. He glared as we approached, the armor of our entourage clanking loudly in the echoing hall. We stopped before him, and I did my best to keep my gaze low.

  Though I knew he was a sorcerer, I had not expected the king to look so young. There were no wrinkles to be seen on him; I couldn’t spot a single gray hair from where I stood. Had he been mortal, I would have assumed we were the same age. He sat up straight, as dashing and handsome as any mortal knight I’d ever seen, with thick golden hair that reached his collar and smooth, lightly tanned skin that looked as if he spent his days riding horses through the countryside rather than sitting upon a throne. His shapely lips pulled into a sneer. I felt sweat beading at my brow and my palms went clammy as the silence stretched.

  Finally, the king spoke.

  “Captain Whittaker, you have succeeded once again,” he said without looking at the man. The captain bowed deeply.

  “It is an honor to serve the Crown, Your Majesty.”

  “Tell me, what was he doing on my lands?”

  “We have not yet interrogated him, Your Majesty, but at first glance, he appeared to be just passing through.”

  “Is that right, boy?” King Zathryan addressed Aydan. “Thought you’d take a shortcut through my lands after you were banished—”

  “Banished?” Aydan scoffed. The king’s face went beet red. “The last correspondence I received from this court was an order to return.”

  “Which you defied, resulting in your permanent banishment from the capital,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Ah,” said Aydan, “I must have missed that letter. Apologies, Your Majesty. A simple clerical error. Call off your guards and I’ll be happy to go back to where I belong.” Gone were the nerves Aydan had displayed to me as we approached the hall; my companion sounded practically bored. One hand was shoved into the pocket of his trousers and he gestured flippantly with the other. If this posture and tone were intended to anger the king, it certainly seemed to be working. I just hoped his charade wouldn’t get us killed.

  The king chuckled darkly. “You petulant little roach. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Doing what you wish, free from responsibility or consequence, then traipsing back to Sylvanna to play in the gardens with lowborns and bastards—” He stopped. Aydan shifted his body in front of me, but it was no good. Zathryan looked right into my eyes. “Speaking of lowborns.” He grinned. “Who do we have here?”

  Captain Whittaker spoke first. “She was traveling with him, Your Majesty. They shared a tent.”

  “Ah.” The king looked back to Aydan. “Do you often drag whores along on your travels, or was this a special occasion?” I flushed at the insult. Aydan did not react.

  “I was escorting the lady back to Sylvanna, to be reunited with relatives there,” he lied flatly. Zathryan stared at him for a moment before looking back at me. He started to say something but cut himself off, emotionless for several seconds. Then he did something I did not expect.

  He laughed.

  Booming laughter rang out in the otherwise silent hall as the courtiers stared, not knowing if they too should be laughing with their king.

  “Excellent try, boy.” He grinned as Aydan’s face remained neutral. “You nearly had me fooled. Now, remove her glamours. I want to see my guest.”

  “I don’t know what you’re ta—”

  “I don’t have time for these games.” With a wave of his hand like clearing the air, the icy sensation that had moved down my body in the tent an hour before moved up this time, up my legs and stomach, back over my face and head. I crossed my arms over my body, shivering a bit as the feeling wore off. Whispers rose from the crowd as they took in my true appearance, ratty and dirt-smudged. I looked back up at Zathryan, whose humor had vanished, and I stared, not knowing what else to do. After several moments, he said softly, “Who are you.”

  Aydan stepped in front of me. “Your Majesty, I—”

  “Shut up,” he snapped at him. He flicked his wrist and Aydan fell to the side as if he’d been shoved. “Your name, girl,” Zathryan said, his voice dripping with command. The look in his eyes was wild, like a flame. I threw Aydan a panicked look and he nodded once, mouth tight.

  “I’m growing impatient, girl.” A bluish glow came off the king’s hands as they gripped the arms of his throne.

  “I-It’s Shaye, Your Majesty,” I said and curtsied hastily.

  The crowd murmured again.

  “Your family name?”

  My mouth went dry as I held his gaze. I felt the urge to lie, but I wasn’t sure why. It didn’t take a scholar to realize he already knew the answer. “Eastly, Your Majesty.”

  Before I could react, the king was on his feet, storming toward me. Balls of blue light engulfed his hands as he raised them in my direction. I stumbled back and Aydan darted between us, arms outstretched. “I can explain—”

  “You!” Zathryan snarled at Aydan. “You brought this cursed wench into my court!”

  “She doesn’t know anything. She didn’t even know his name until I told her,” Aydan insisted.

  “And you believed her like a fool,” scoffed the king. “I’m sure she spread her legs far enough for you to believe anything—”

  “Father!” Aydan said sharply. My head snapped up. Father?

  King Zathryan glowered, then looked around the hall at his court. Then at me. He picked at the sleeve of his jacket and brushed a stray piece of hair from his eyes.

  “Captain Whittaker, this woman is under arrest,” he said. The captain stepped forward. “Take her away while I decide what to do with her.” My heart sank.

  “Father,” said Aydan, “she has broken no laws—”

  “Perhaps I will spare us all this trouble and have her executed now,” Zathryan said and snapped his fingers. The guards surrounding us drew their swords in unison. Aydan looked around at all of them.

  Finally, he sighed and spread his hands. “If there’s no stopping you . . .” He stepped out from in front of me. “At least give her the dignity of a quick death.”

  My mouth filled with ash. Zathryan’s blue lights were gone now, but his fists remained balled at his sides. He nodded at the guard closest to me and the guard grabbed me roughly by the arm.

  “Oh,” said Aydan, “just one small thing. I almost forgot.” The king glared. “Lady Shaye is blood-shielded.” The crowd grew louder, murmurs bouncing intensely off the walls. I could barely hear the king’s reply over it and the blood rushing in my ears. I had no idea what he was talking about, and I wasn’t sure I would live long enough to find out.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Maybe.” Aydan shrugged. “But are you willing to test it?” The men stared at each other, silent, until the king said:

  “There are plenty of prisoners awaiting execution who would do the job well.”

  “Yes, but does the shield effect only them? Or will it also respond to the man who ordered her death?” Aydan smirked. “It’s been so long since a blood shield was tested in Medeisia. Perhaps we should find out.”

  “Are you threatening your king?” Captain Whittaker asked, stepping closer.

  “Not at all,” Aydan answe
red dryly. “I’m protecting him, by warning him of certain dangers.”

  The king started to speak, but he was interrupted by a girlish voice calling out from behind the dais.

  “Your Majesty?”

  My eyes darted to the dais, as did Aydan’s. A beautiful woman with sharp features stepped down and walked toward us, her footsteps echoing delicately on the stone. She wore a well-tailored, green gown that complemented her skin, the same warm brown tone as Aydan’s, and in her shiny black curls was a small gold tiara encrusted with diamonds and emeralds. Large emeralds hung from her ears as well, dangling low to swing just above her shoulders with each step. She stopped when she reached the king’s side. “Your Majesty, perhaps there is another solution to this problem.”

  “What do you suggest, princess?” he asked. I swallowed. Princess.

  “If these two remain here, under house arrest, then we can study the Eastly girl before the Sylvannians get their hands on her. See if she’s any threat to us.”

  “I am telling you now, she is no threat—” Aydan said.

  “Quiet!” Zathryan snapped. He spoke in a low tone to his daughter. “How will studying her reveal her true nature? Would it not be prudent to simply take care of the problem now?”

  “Perhaps, Your Majesty,” the princess said, voice hushed. “But showing her mercy to start will go a long way with the courtiers. Besides.” She glanced at me. “If she doesn’t betray us, perhaps we can use her.”

  Zathryan considered. It was the longest few moments of my life, watching the King of Medeisia decide my fate.

  “Fine,” he grit out, then called loudly, “Captain Whittaker, escort these two to the prince’s quarters. The prince and Miss Eastly will remain here at my pleasure. They will not leave the castle.” He gestured and a tingling sensation rushed down my spine, and I knew the king’s power would hold me in this castle until he decided otherwise. I was at his mercy.

  King Zathryan leaned in, his lips almost brushing my ear. “If I hear even a whisper of your betrayal, or any attempts to escape . . . blood shield be damned, I will have your head on a spike.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” I dipped my head to hide my trembling.

  The king turned on his heel and stormed away, past the dais and through a door. The princess followed, as did a dozen other men, while the rest watched as Captain Whittaker led us back to the castle’s grand entrance. Aydan and I followed in silence as we were turned to the left and down a long corridor to a new wing. At the end was an ornately carved door with no handle, where the guards stopped and stared at Aydan. The door hummed with magic that told me to walk away from it.

  “Go ahead,” Captain Whittaker said. Aydan raised his wrist, which still held the silver cuff. The captain sighed and used a key to remove it, then mine. My skin was an angry, blistered red.

  “Thank you,” said Aydan. He placed a palm against the door and the magic seemed to dissolve. A brass knocker appeared. “Now leave us.”

  The captain’s mouth tightened before he gave a grudging bow, mumbled, “Your Highness,” and turned away to march back down the corridor.

  Chapter Seven

  We stepped inside and the the hum of magic returned around the door as soon as it shut behind us. I took a sharp breath, having expected a modest-sized bedroom, maybe a bathroom. Instead, I was met with a lavishly decorated foyer, complete with ornately carved wooden furniture and beautiful wine red rugs. Aydan stood in front of me with his back turned. One hand rested on his hip while the other combed back through his shaggy black hair. He stared across the room quietly for a moment, then suddenly cried out, “Fuck.”

  I jumped.

  He stormed into the next room, and I followed quietly behind him. He started snapping his fingers—once, twice, four times—as he tore through desk drawers, searching their contents.

  As he looted the room, figures began to appear in the center. Two women and two men stood before us while Aydan continued his search for who knows what. One of the confused-looking women stepped forward.

  “Elise,” Aydan said, “where is my stationery? I can’t even find a damned pen in this place.”

  “In the study, I believe, sir. Let me—”

  “No need.” He left to fetch it himself. The woman, Elise, had honey brown hair and a pale complexion. Like everyone else I had seen in the past few days, she appeared to be quite young, but there was something in her eyes and the way she carried herself that told me I was mistaken. She nodded in greeting, and I did the same. Seconds later, Aydan returned with stationery and pen in hand. He hunched over a small desk and scribbled a note. When he finished, he folded the page and waved his hand over it, a blue seal appearing. He placed the note in Elise’s hand.

  “Take this to Lady Solandis. Tell anyone who stops you that you’ve been ordered by me to place this letter directly into the lady’s hand. When you see that she has read it, return here.” Elise nodded and disappeared as quickly as she’d come. He turned to the others and said, “I’m sorry to say, we’ll be taking up residence here for an unexpected stay.” He gestured to me, his first acknowledgment of my presence since entering the dwelling. “This is Lady Shaye. She’ll be staying with us. Isolde, if you could please prepare a room for her, then perhaps we can offer her something hot to eat. She’s been traveling for a while now. I’m sure she’s tired of cold rations.” In unison, the group bowed before going their separate ways to carry out his orders.

  The prince.

  My head pounded as I tried to wrap my mind around these last few hours. Aydan was staring at me expectantly, and I realized he had been saying something.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said, I’m going to get this taken care of,” he repeated. “We’ll be on our way to Sylvanna soon. I just need to figure a few things out.”

  I didn’t respond and instead looked him up and down. He wore the same plain black tunic and pants he’d been wearing when he arrived on my doorstep a week ago, which were now filthy. His tattered boots looked like they might fall apart as soon as he pulled them off, and his shaggy, dark hair was as dirty and tangled as mine. Yet the way he carried himself, his demeanor and tone, had changed since arriving at the castle—or had I simply imagined that? His quiet, serious presence had been odd but welcome as we traveled, but in the great hall just now, he’d been an entirely new character, practically mocking the king—his father—to his face.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “You lied to me.”

  “Yes.” I found myself a little stunned at his blunt honesty.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a prince? The Prince of Medeisia?”

  “Because of what you saw there.” Aydan waved his hand toward the door. “I am prince of nothing, my title means nothing, and I have no intention of staying in my father’s court. The plan was to wait until we were safely in Sylvanna to explain everything, to keep from overwhelming you—”

  “Why do you get to decide what will overwhelm me?” I snapped before I could stop myself. I pursed my lips while he seemed to consider my words. Does he have his father’s temper? I wondered.

  Finally, Aydan said, “There is a room for you down the corridor.” He pointed behind me. “Second door on the right. It will have everything you need to get cleaned up and comfortable. When you’ve had a bath and a moment to rest , we’ll sit down for lunch and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything you want to know. I promise.”

  I considered for a moment. “I don’t have any other clothes.” My dress, which had once been periwinkle blue, was now dingy and gray. “I will need to wash this.”

  “There are clean clothes waiting for you in your room,” he said. “The servants will see to your dress in the morning.”

  I hesitated, but finally turned and headed down the corridor he’d indicated. When I reached the second door on the right, I paused, then entered. It was a modestly sized bedroom with a larger bed than I�
�d ever slept in, topped with a white quilt with a hand-embroidered pattern at the edges that resembled the rugs in the foyer. I wondered if the pattern was common in Ayzelle, or if it was one that Aydan had simply liked. Would he have even been the one to select such things? On the wall opposite the bed, there was a wardrobe, a desk, and even a bookshelf with a few volumes sitting on it. To the left was another door, which I opened to find a bathroom with a deep porcelain tub already filled and steaming. I pulled off my boots and my ruined stockings as carefully as I could. My feet were sore and swollen, raw from days of walking. I managed to peel my dress from my body. Upon closer inspection, I couldn’t see how anyone, sorcerer or not, could save the filthy thing and resolved to throw it away. I untied my braid and only then did I look in the mirror.

  I looked horrible.

  A week of traveling with few provisions and sleeping on my uncomfortable bedroll in a tiny tent hadn’t done much for my appearance. It was clear that I hadn’t been eating enough, my ribs practically visible, and dark circles had formed under my eyes from lack of sleep. I sighed and turned back to the tub, eager to be clean and warm.

  I climbed in and tried to keep from groaning too loudly as I leaned back. I closed my eyes, savoring the heat and the moment of relaxation, but fought the urge to fall asleep. I needed to get washed and dressed so I could finally get some answers. Reluctantly, I sat up, found the bar of soap, and started scrubbing.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite my attempts to make quick work of the bath, it took me two thorough washings to scrub the dirt from my body. Had I been more confident in how exactly to do so, I would have refilled the bath with clear water halfway through. As it was, I let the murk drain and wiped the stains from the tub after I toweled myself dry.