Page 5 of Lost Heir
As I approached the caravan, Caelan’s familiar voice pierced the chaos. “Lyanna!” he called out, though the name felt like a garment ill-fitted after years of wearing Leila. I’d been Leila for ten years. Ten very long years.
“Selene is waiting for you,” he said as he approached.
“I just had to get a few things.” I pointed to my satchel and lifted the strap over my shoulder before following Caelan toward the procession of horses and carriages that would carry us back to Valoria. It was then, amidst the flurry of preparations, that I caught sight of him.
Ronan.
The Crimson Clan chief’s son was crouched in a wooden cage atop a wagon being pulled by two horses. He looked completely disheveled, but otherwise appeared to be unharmed. At least from where I stood.
“Is … is he okay?” The question escaped me, a whisper of concern to Caelan, even as my gaze remained locked on Ronan, searching for any sign of distress.
Caelan’s response, laced with disdain, struck a wary chord. “Don’t worry about him, Lyanna. He’s a savage. He’s probably used to being caged,” Caelan sneered, his words igniting a spark of anger within me.
I whirled on him, my voice carrying the weight of many years spent in the shadows. “If this was ten years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now I know what you’re capable of, Caelan. So let me ask again:Is he okay?”
The color drained from his face, perhaps ignited by memories of my captivity under his torturous care. “Lyanna,” he began, his voice a mix of regret and plea. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry,” he declared. “The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. You know that, right?”
I narrowed my gaze to let him know his artful deflection had not gone unnoticed. “Don’t change the subject, Caelan. Is he hurt?”
His frustration was palpable. “Why do you care so much? You were barely friends … unless …”
“Unless what?” I challenged, defiantly meeting his stare.
Caelan’s approach turned menacing; his question laced with accusation. “Unless you weremorethan friends … Did he touch you?” he growled. His hazel gaze bore into me, a storm of jealousy and concern mingling in his eyes.
Shocked by the intensity of his suspicion, I recoiled. “What? Of course not!” I countered, my response a lie draped over the truth of my almost-intimacy with Ronan, a moment interrupted by Silas and now locked away in the silence between us. How could I confess that to Caelan, when I was still untangling the web of feelings and loyalties that bound me?
In that brief interlude, amidst the tension and whispered confrontations, Ronan's weary head rose as if drawn by the current of our discord. Our gazes collided across the distance, a silent exchange fraught with complexities and unvoiced confessions. It was a fleeting connection, yet in that moment, a torrent of unarticulated thoughts and feelings surged between us, a silent conversation that spoke volumes.
But the moment was shattered when Caelan's hand abruptly shadowed my vision, his palm cold against my skin. “Don't look. He’s not worth it,” he murmured through clenched teeth, a protective yet possessive gesture that felt as much an assertion of control as it was an attempt to shield me. With a firmness that brooked no argument, he steered me away, guiding me towards the carriage and away from Ronan, away from the silent exchange that momentarily bridged the gap between captive and onlooker.
I wanted to scream and rage. Caelan’s prejudice was painfully obvious. I smacked his hand out of my face and stormed toward the carriage without looking back. I’d had enough of men in this lifetime.
As the caravanlurched into motion, setting its course towards Valoria, I was nestled beside Selene in the confines of our carriage. The rhythm of our journey was dictated by the uneven terrain beneath us, a gentle jostling that served as a constant reminder of the land's untamed spirit. Outside the window, the world unfurled like a tapestry of living hues and textures, each mile revealing a new facet of the landscape that stretched between our current location and the distant allure of Valoria.
The terrain of the Central Plains was a mosaic of tall grasses that swayed rhythmically with the wind, their tips brushing against the sky in a silent dance. Here and there, clusters of wildflowers added bursts of color to the placid sea of green, their presence a vivid reminder of nature's resilience and diversity. The horizon was a distant line, a blend of earth and sky where the early morning light cast long shadows that played hide and seek with the land.
Our horses, led by a mage whose subtle gestures cut a serene path through the wild expanse, moved with a steady pace.
As we traveled, the plains stretched out in every direction, a testament to the vastness of the land. Occasionally, a lone tree or a small copse would rise against the expanse, their presence marking the passage of miles and the slow change in scenery as we moved arduously northward. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of grass and earth, a constant companion through the open windows of our carriage.
“Leila?” Selene’s voice, soft as the rustle of grass outside our trundling carriage, drew my attention away from the window. She leaned her head on my shoulder, a silentrequest for comfort as the plains rolled by. “How long will it take us to reach Valoria?”
“Two to three days,” I replied, gazing out at the Central Plains unfurling before us. “We have to cut through the Central Plains to cross the border.”
She straightened and turned her gaze towards me, a shadow of concern in her eyes. “I know I’ve been silent on matters, but I’m curious about what happened. I thought … I thought you were on good terms with Ronan?”
A wearisome sigh escaped me, the memory bitter on my tongue. “I thought so, too,” I whispered, the words thick with betrayal. “I … I almost gave myself to him. And to think it was all part of some elaborate plan.”
Selene’s eyes widened and she gasped. “He was tricking you?”
Nodding, I let the truth sink in. “I learned of a prophecy. One that states the Crimson Clan needs to sacrifice me in order to resurrect the Demon Fox.”
“But he seemed so … sogenuine!” Selene sputtered. “How could he?” she exclaimed, anger and disbelief warring within her.
I couldn’t help but chuckle despite the gravity of our conversation, soothing her with a gentle pat on her arm. “Calm down there, firecracker. Luckily, I found out before anything could happen.”
“Did you tell Prince Caelan about it?” she probed, her curiosity unyielding.
