Page 14 of Lost Heir
“Come, dear,” my mother beckoned Selene. “Let me look at you.”
Selene tentatively stepped forward and my mother inspected her more closely. Wearing a modest dress that she hadn’t changed since we left the Central Plains, we all looked a bit rough for wear.
“It—It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” Selene stuttered.
My mother’s focus shifted back to me, her disdain thinly veiled. “At least you had someone attending to your needs while you were away.”
The assumption that Selene served merely as a maid irked me, but I held my tongue and chose my words carefully. “Mother, she wasn’t attending to my needs. I was a healer in the Central Plains. Selene assisted me in my work,” I clarified.
My mother gasped, looking aghast at what I’d just said. “You dealt with the ill?” she echoed, her voice a blend of disbelief and dismay.
“I did,” I affirmed, meeting her incredulous gaze with a steady one of my own.
My father cleared his throat as he cut between me and my mother. “That is very admirable, Lyanna. We’re proud of you.”
“She’s a very well-known healer in the Central Plains,” Caelan added. “Many travelled far and wide to receive her care.”
“Did you … did you use your blood?” my father asked with furrowed brows.
I gave a small nod. “Sometimes, but not often. Only when the situation was too dire for more traditional methods,” I admitted.
“She saved me,” Caelan hurried to say. “When I was poisoned by fae fruit.”
“Well, I guess you owe our Lyanna a life debt,” my father chuckled.
“I owe her more than that,” Caelan murmured, but didn’t speak further.
Seeking to steer the conversation away from dangerouswaters, I introduced a new topic. “Father, there is someone else we brought with us.”
“Lyanna—” Caelan warned, but I ignored him.
“Oh?” My father raised a questioning brow.
“Ronan, the Crimson Clan Chief’s son is with us … as a hostage,” I said.
As the truth spilled from my lips, a ripple of tension swept through the Grand Hall like a cold gust. My father’s reaction was a silent storm brewing. His stance was rigid as he processed the information, running a hand through his hair before spinning around to walk back to his throne.
“Caelan!” My father’s voice sliced through the thick atmosphere with a gravity that demanded everyone’s full attention. “Explain.”
Caelan cleared his throat and stepped forward, the weight of the moment pressing upon him. “Your Majesty, during our encounter with the Crimson Clan in the Central Plains, Ronan was taken prisoner. It was a strategic move, one that—”
Marcellus, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist stirring the pot further. “He was in a relationship with Lyanna,” he interjected, his voice laced with mischief as he cast a glance my way that was both accusatory and gleeful. “Quite the scandal, indeed.”
I glared at my brother as he openly took delight in our mother’s shocked expression. Her body swayed as if the ground beneath her had shifted. Only Marcellus’s quick reflexes prevented her from faltering completely, his arms steadying her as she regained her balance.
“Lyanna!” she gasped, her eyes searching mine for the truth. “Is there any truth to what your brother claims?”
“Lies, I’m sure of it.” Caelan’s growl resonated with protectiveness, his stance beside me both a shield and aproclamation. “Ronan deceived Lyanna. She has no fault in this matter,” he countered, his gaze fierce.
Marcellus's snort was dismissive, a silent challenge to Caelan's defense. “If you say so,” he murmured under his breath, skepticism coloring his tone.
“Iknowso!” Caelan's voice rose, his declaration ringing through the hall. “Regardless of the circumstances, Lyanna would never betray her people, much less lay with a beast like him!”
The heat of embarrassment and the sting of guilt flushed my cheeks, Marcellus's words and Caelan's vehement defense wove a complex tapestry of warring emotions. Caught between the scandal Marcellus delighted in unveiling and the fervent protection Caelan offered, I found myself unable to meet the eyes of those who were gathered, my heart torn asunder by the revelations and the rapid pace at which they were unfolding.
“Enough!” my father yelled, banging his fist on the throne’s armrest. “You’ll not speak ill of your sister. Caelan is right. She would never betray her people. But …”
“But what, dear?” my mother pleaded as she fanned herself. “We cannot let these rumors stand. They will spread like wildfire and her reputation—”
