Page 24 of Lost Heir
The silence that followed was palpable, a delicate veil over the unsaid and the understood. I glanced at Marcellus and Caelan, their expressions a mix of caution and intrigue, clearly attuned to the subtext of our carefully chosen words. The dance of diplomacy within the confines of the dining hall was a delicate one, and I had just made my opening move.
“It’s no trouble at all, dear. At least accept Mary as your right hand. I’m sure she’ll be much better than that Tessa,” my mother scoffed. It was no surprise she already knew the names of the court ladies in my palace. The moment she suggested replacing Tessa with Mary, tension crackled through the air like a silent storm brewing. With her voice dripping with disapproval, her disdain for my preferred lady-in-waiting was evident. “I'll have her switched out by this afternoon,” she declared as if the matter was already settled.
My reaction was swift, a mix of alarm and resolve. “No!” The word burst from me sharper than intended. I quickly softened my tone. “No, Mother, that won't be necessary. I really appreciate Tessa's service. She's familiar with my routines now, and I'd rather not start over with someone new.”
I watched as my mother's grip on her silverware tightened, the tendons in her hand standing out starkly. “Well, if you insist,” she said through clenched teeth, clearly displeased by my defiance.
Caelan intervened with a tactful cough, his attempt to diffuse the tension. “I’m sure Lyanna is not used to beingpampered like she once was. Maybeweare the ones who should adapt to who she is now,” he suggested, his voice a careful blend of respect and diplomacy.
Marcellus chimed in, his tone carrying an edge of bitterness. “Yes, Mother. Dear Lyanna is not who she once was.”
My mother was unyielding. “Lyanna will quickly need to reacquaint herself with our ways. It's for the best,” she stated, her tone leaving no room for further discussion.
I pressed my lips together to hold in the scoff that threatened to escape. My mother was not one to mince words. What she said was final, her expectations clear.
“Of course, Mother,” I conceded, focusing on my plate to avoid further confrontation.
“If you insist on keeping those court ladies, that’s fine. But I expect you to attend breakfast every morning here in the Central palace,” she said forcibly. “It’s theleastyou could do.”
“Yes,” I answered and continued to eat.
The remainder of breakfast passed in stifling silence, the earlier warmth replaced by cold formality. Once my mother excused herself, the air seemed to ease slightly, though the weight of her words lingered.
“Lyanna,” Caelan started, “try not to upset your mother. You know everything she does is for your wellbeing.”
I nodded but kept quiet, not wanting to argue, especially since I was almost positive my mother still had spies lingering around.
“Oh, come on, Caelan. You knowexactlywhy Lyanna got rid of her maids,” Marcel snorted. “You might be home, Lyanna, but you don’t trust anyone here. I wonder why that is.”
Marcel's sarcastic remark hit closer to home than he realized. The truth of my situation was a ponderous burden,one I hesitated to share. But as his curiosity pressed, the need for honesty outweighed my reservations.
Swallowing my food, I set my utensils down and looked up at my brother. “Do you really want to know, Marcel? Once you do, you can’t unknow it.”
Marcellus tensed, then narrowed his gaze before rolling his eyes. “Oh, please. What couldpossiblybe—”
“The Crimson Clan wants to sacrifice me to the fox demon to resurrect him. Before the war with Keldara, they approached Mom and Dad about trading me, which was a proposition they were considering. So no, I don’t trust anyone.” I stared into familiar blue eyes that widened with each word I spoke.
Caelan stood abruptly; the chair screeching across the floor in his haste was a physical manifestation of the turmoil my words caused. “Lies! Your parents wouldnever!” His denial was fierce, a reflexive defense against a truth too harrowing to accept. The revelation shattered the morning's fragile peace, leaving us adrift in a sea of uncertainty and betrayal.
My stance was defensive, arms crossed tightly as I challenged Caelan's righteous assurance. “Oh, yeah? And you know that how?”
He faltered. “I—I…” revealing even he harbored doubts about their capabilities.
Marcellus's reaction was softer, tinged with disbelief. “That’swhy you never returned?” he murmured, seeking confirmation.
I nodded. “It was the secret Sir Edric hid from me, and one I only recently found out.”
Marcel's reaction was subdued, perhaps blurred with shame as he acknowledged the depth of our mother's ambition and what she might be capable of. His next words werebarely audible, a mix of disappointment and personal affront. “So … you didn’t trust me to protect you?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying, Marcel. But I didn’t want to pit you against our parents. It wouldn’t be fair to you,” I rushed to clarify, not wanting him to feel it was a lack of faith in him, but rather a desire to shield him from our parents' machinations. “Also, we werechildren, Marcel. You are younger than me. There was nothing either of us could have done.”
He nodded and pushed his chair back. “I understand,” he whispered before getting up from his chair. Despite my explanation, he exited the dining hall without another word, leaving a palpable void in his wake.
“Marcel! Wait!” I called after him.
“Lyanna,” Caelan stopped me as I attempted to follow, his tone sharp. “Is this the secret Ronan was keeping from you?” he gritted between his teeth.
“Yes,” I answered truthfully, though I kept the other part to myself since Ronan made me promise not to say anything to anyone.
