Page 13 of Lost Heir
As he stepped back, his gaze swept over me, a mixture of awe and something unreadable. “You’ve … changed,” he observed, his tone tinged with a hint of surprise and perhaps uncertainty.
A light laugh escaped me, an attempt to bridge the gap his words had inadvertently forged. “I'm no longer eleven,” I reminded him, trying to infuse lightness into the moment. “I’m bound to change.”
The sound of my mother's heels announced her approach; the unmistakable cadence of authority in her step heralded her arrival into our reunion. “I can only imaginethe years of poverty you’ve endured,” she said as she came into view around my father. “But do not dwell on the past. You’re home now.”
Stepping forward to acknowledge her, I dipped into a curtsy, a gesture of respect and distance. “Mother,” I greeted, my voice soft, courteous.
Her response was immediate, her touch light on my elbow as she guided me upright. “Welcome home, Lyanna. No formalities needed,” she reassured me, her voice carrying a warmth that belied the coolness of her gaze.
My father, ever the host, interjected with a question that seemed to herald a return to normalcy. “Are you hungry?” he asked, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “You must be hungry. We’ll hold a feast! And in ten days’ time, we will hold a banquet in your honor.”
The proposal was overwhelming, a grand gesture that felt disproportionate to my desires. “That’s really not necessary—” I began, only to be cut off by his fervent insistence.
“Of course it is!” he declared, his determination clear. “All of Asteria needs to know you’re home.”
I knew what he meant. He wanted to invite everyone from Asteria so he could parade me around and celebrate the fact that the only female blood mage had returned. And to prove that I was not, nor had I ever been in the clutches of the Crimson Clan. This homecoming was not just a reunion but a reentry into a world of political machinations where my very existence was a statement of power and a tool to be wielded.
I couldn’t argue. I was in no position to do so. I might be a princess, but even I was limited in power, especially after being gone so long.
I smiled tightly and bowed. “Of course,” I agreed, my tone betraying none of my reservations.
My father’s joy was palpable, his hand finding Caelan’s shoulder in a gesture of gratitude. “Wonderful!” he beamed, his eyes alight with relief and celebration. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home safe and sound.”
Caelan’s response was tinged with discomfort, his laughter not quite reaching his eyes as he glanced away. “It was my honor, Your Majesty,” he murmured, the formality of his words a stark contrast to his unease.
“Nonsense. Please be Lyanna’s escort to the banquet. It’ll be a wonderful day for us all to celebrate!”
The announcement that I would accompany Caelan to the banquet ensnared me in a web of emotions I had yet to untangle. I stilled as I peered over at Caelan. He wore a tense smile, but remained quiet about all the things he had done. For some reason, even though I told him the past was in the past, his reaction upset me. Which had to mean that I hadn’t truly forgiven him, and if I did, I hadn’t forgotten. He was the last person I wanted as my escort.
“Father—” My attempt to voice my concerns was abruptly cut short by my mother.
“Where is Marcellus?” she asked. “Did he not arrive with you as well?”
“He did.”
Caelan’s brief acknowledgment was overshadowed by the Grand Hall’s doors swinging open as the guard’s voice boomed, “His Highness, Prince Marcellus!”
Marcellus walked in … with Selene behind him.
The room seemed to hold its breath as Selene stepped into the light, her beauty stark against the grandeur of the hall, her apprehension clear in the wide set of her emerald eyes. My eyes widened at the sight of her, and I attempted to regain my composure. I dared to look behind me, back at my mother. Her gaze was sharp and calculating as itshifted to Selene, her interest piqued by the unfamiliar face.
“Marcel…” My mother’s voice was smooth, her curiosity veiled behind a veneer of courtesy. “Who is this you’ve brought with you?”
“This is—”
“My best friend,” I interjected, a desperate bid to shield Selene from her scrutiny. “She was my assistant back in the Central Plains. I did not want to leave her behind.”
“Is that so? She’s beautiful. Quite a rare oddity. Do I dare say, one of the Merfolk?” my mother asked.
I cleared my throat. “Yes. Yes, she is.”
Admitting to Selene's Merfolk lineage was a gamble, one I hoped would satiate my mother's curiosity without inviting further examination.
Marcellus and Selene approached us, and he took ahold of my mother’s hand, offering a peck on the back of her hand with a slight bow. Selene stood by awkwardly, unsure what to do.
“Tell me, Marcel, is this the concubine you said you’d be taking in your letter?” my mother asked as she looked Selene up and down with mild interest.
“No!” I yelled quickly, then cleared my throat. “No, she’s not. That was another girl, but Marcel changed his mind about her. Selene is here just as my friend.” I sent a glare in Marcellus’s direction, daring him to disagree. He looked away.
