Page 7 of Lost Heir
Selene’s voice, soft and reflective, cut through the crackle of the fire. “I haven’t left the Central Plains since I was twelve,” she said as she rubbed her upper arms to warm herself from the night chill.
She was twelve when her father sold her to the pleasurehouse, and she hadn’t seen him since. The thought ignited a silent fury within me.
“If you want to return to the sea, we can still make it happen, Selene,” I said, unsure whether she was excited or frightened about leaving the Central Plains.
She hesitated, her whisper barely audible over the fire's crackle. “I know,” she said, a tremor of unresolved emotion in her voice. “But I don’t want to. Not yet, anyway.”
Acknowledging her response with a nod, I respected her silence and allowed the topic to fade into the night. Our conversation dwindled as we settled into the rhythm of the camp, the fire's warmth a small beacon of solace in the whispering plains. The wilderness of the Central Plains enveloped us, a reminder of the long journey that still lay ahead.
“Lyanna?” Caelan called out, breaking the silence. “I’ve been meaning to ask … what happened after you left Valoria? Why didn’t you return home?”
At that question, Marcellus looked up at me, curiosity lingering in his gaze.
I blew out a breath. “Sir Edric and I crossed the border into Keldara, thinking their back yard would be the last place they would look if they wanted to find us.” My mind wandered to memories of the past. “We travelled throughout Asteria, never staying long in one location. It was hard to get news from Valoria, but when we heard that Keldara’s invasion had failed, I asked Sir Edric if we’d be going home, but he said it was still too dangerous. He warned I couldn’t return or my life would be in danger. I believed him. To this day, I don’t know what the danger was that he spoke of,” I lied, knowing full well what it was after speaking with him through one of the Crimson Clan’s witch doctors. “The coin that Sir Edric brought lasted less than ayear. He couldn’t leave me alone in case someone found me, so finding employment was difficult. He’d do odd jobs here and there, but nothing stable. We spent many nights hungry, with no food or shelter. But Sir Edric did his best. I do not fault him for a single thing.”
“What happened to Sir Edric?” Marcellus asked quietly.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I prepared to tell them. “We were in Ellyndor. I was sixteen years old, I believe, and I remember Sir Edric coming home furious beyond belief. He wouldn’t tell me what happened before he stormed out of our home. It wasn’t until midnight struck and he still wasn’t home that I got worried. It was unlike him to be gone for such long periods of time, so I went searching for him. That’s when I found him, dead in an alleyway. I tried to revive him, to feed him some of my blood, but it was too late,” I whispered. “If I’d just been faster, or gone to look for him sooner …”
“You were in Ellyndor?” Caelan asked in shocked surprise. “Why couldn’t I find you there?”
I smiled bitterly. “We were in a small town on the outskirts of the capital.”
“How did you end up in the Central Plains?” Caelan gritted between his teeth as he internally raged with fury.
“I’d already been training as a healer, and I wanted to go somewhere that I could rest my head longer than a few months, possibly permanently. I was tired of running. When I found Sir Edric, his last message to me, which was written in his blood on the stone wall beside him, wasCentral Plains. So I took that as a sign.”
Marcellus scoffed. “And you just left him there without trying to figure out who killed your guardian?”
I tamped down my irritation. “No. I stayed for a while and investigated until I couldn’t stay any longer. I kept incontact with the authorities, but the case came to a dead end. When he died, the magic concealing the crescent moon birthmark on his forehead disappeared and they started to question who he was. That was when I knew I couldn’t stay much longer. Not unless I wanted to risk being caught.”
Caelan’s hands tightened into fists atop his knees. His jaw ticked, and I feared that at any moment he would explode. “How could you have been forced to endure so much hardship?” he gritted. “You’re the princess of Valoria! This is—”
“I stopped being the Princess of Valoria ten years ago,” I cut him off. “Being royalty didn’t matter. It was all about survival.”
“I swear, I will investigate what happened to him. I won’t let this disappear into the ether,” Caelan promised.
“Why didn’t you come home after Sir Edric passed? You could have returned then!” Marcellus shouted.
I smiled bitterly. “Sir Edric died with a secret. A secret that was potentially dangerous to me. I couldn’t risk returning until I found out what it was.”
“And you didn’t trust us to help you? To protect you?” My brother shot to his feet. Selene jumped up and followed as Marcellus stormed away angrily.
Marcellus’s exclamation tore through the fragile peace of our campsite. My brother’s frustration was palpable in the crackling air as he receded into the darkness, his departure marked by his thunderous footfalls against the soft earth.
Exhaling deeply, I watched the space where Marcellus had been, feeling the weight of his expectations and the gulf of my decisions. The night seemed to hold its breath, the only sounds the gentle crackle of the fire and my brother’s footfalls fading into the plains.
Caelan closed the distance between us and sat where Selene had been, his presence a calm amidst the storm of emotions. His body language was open yet protective.
“Ignore him.” Caelan's voice, softer now, carried a comforting tone, an attempt to soothe the sting of Marcellus's words and diminish the complexity of our situation. The fire between us seemed to grow brighter with his care, its warmth a barrier against the night’s chill and the coldness of unresolved conflicts.
Under the canopy of a starlit sky, my voice barely rose above a whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken fears. “Do you resent me as well?” The words hung between us, delicate and fraught with vulnerability.
Caelan's movements stilled and he turned, his gaze meeting mine in the firelight. Shadows danced across his face, softening his features. “No, I don’t,” he replied, his voice firm yet tinged with quiet remorse. “I don’t have the right to resent you, not after all I've put you through.” His admission was a balm to old wounds, a recognition of past wrongs from which we both wished to heal.
The past was a ghost that lingered, its presence unwelcome yet undeniable. I sought to shake off its chains and step into a future unburdened by the shadows of what had been.
A sudden gust of wind swept across the plains, cutting through the warmth of the fire and wrapping its cold fingers around us. I shivered and instinctively hugged myself tighter in a futile attempt to ward off the chill.
