Lost Heir (Blood Weaver Trilogy #2)

Chapter 2

2

T he camp buzzed with the muted chaos of departure; the air filled with the anticipation of our journey back to Valoria. I gingerly navigated the maze of tents and supplies that were being packed and loaded, my heart a tumult of unspoken goodbyes and unresolved threads. I made my way toward the carriage where I would ride with Selene. I felt odd leaving without notifying anyone from my former life as Leila, the healer. The few friends I had would have no idea what happened to me. I did manage to send a messenger to find Henry and tell him he could stay in my clinic indefinitely. I didn’t know if he’d remained with the Crimson Clan or not, now that Ronan was our hostage. But just in case he was staying behind, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.

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 were more than 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 caravan lurched 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 silent request 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 … so genuine !” 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.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Why not?”

I blew out a breath as I fiddled with the frayed edges of my blouse. “Honestly, I don’t know why. But I don’t want him to know about it. Just in case … ”

“In case it puts Ronan in even more danger?” Selene whispered.

I nodded. “How did you know?”

Selene’s soft smile was knowing. “Because regardless of what has transpired, I know you care for Ronan deeply. It’s the first time in the five years I’ve known you that I’ve seen you care about someone other than me.”

“I care about my patients and others,” I scoffed, slightly offended.

Selene chuckled. “Yes, but it’s not the same. You wouldn’t risk your life for others. Not like you’ve done for me and Ronan.”

She wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t easy hearing the truth. In the short expanse of time I’d known Ronan, he’d gotten under my skin and wormed his way into my heart. Now it seemed I couldn’t rid myself of him.

“Enough about me. What’s going on with you and Marcellus?” I deflected, eager to shift the focus.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “Nothing,” she whispered, too quickly.

I threw my head back and laughed, her denial too flimsy to be believed. “You can’t call me out and expect me not to do the same. Be honest with me, Selene. What happened that day at the Rose Petal when he spent an hour in a private room with you?”

She bit her bottom lip and nervously twiddled her thumbs. I elbowed her, snapping her out of her daze. “Nothing. Honest! I played the lute, danced, and … and I sang.”

My eyes widened. “You sang for him?” I choked out in shock. “Selene, why would you do that? A siren’s call is not only rare … it’s incredibly dangerous.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He was just so genuinely nice, and I wanted to do something special for him. I promise it was tame, so …”

“I know he liked you before then, but he could become obsessed with you because of this. Is this why—”

“No!” she exclaimed as she whirled on me. “That’s not why he bought me, I swear. It was just one little song; nothing too impactful.”

“Selene …” I urged.

“He’s really not that bad, Leila. Honest. I can tell he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”

“You hardly know him—” I started, then caught myself. I hardly knew Ronan, either. I sighed. “What did you want to talk to him about in private? Will you tell me?”

She shook her head and dropped her gaze. “I’d rather not.”

I slowly closed my eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Selene,” I whispered as I opened my eyes again. “Valoria is nothing like the Central Plains. And my brother … is no prince charming.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Will you trust me?”

I stared into her emerald eyes, trying to see into her soul for a snippet of an answer, but she was like a stone wall. Not a crack in sight. “I trust you,” I finally said. “Just … be careful, Selene.”

She smiled brightly. “I will.”

As twilight wrapped its cloak around Asteria, our caravan came to a halt and settled into the embrace of the Central Plains for the night. The landscape stretched endlessly in all directions, a sea of grass beneath the burgeoning stars, its vastness both a comfort and a reminder of our isolation. I was unsure how close we were to the border.

Gathered around a crackling fire that pierced the growing darkness, its warmth a small bulwark against the evening’s chill, Caelan, Selene, Marcellus, and I formed a makeshift circle. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows over our faces, reflecting in Caelan’s eyes as he tended to the fire with practiced movements. Beyond our little circle, the silhouettes of soldiers moved with efficient grace, their actions blending into the rhythm of the wilderness as tents rose from the ground and the scent of cooked meat filled the air.

“How far are we from Valoria?” My question broke the comfortable silence, a query borne of the same restlessness that stirred the fire.

Caelan paused, his gaze measuring the distance in his mind before answering. “We’re roughly two hundred kilometers away from the border, and maybe another hundred kilometers from the border to the palace.” His voice, steady and sure, did little to quell the nervous anticipation that buzzed beneath my skin.

Selene and I shared a log for seating, our proximity a small comfort in the vast, open plains. Across from us, Marcellus and Caelan mirrored our arrangement, yet an unspoken tension hovered between me and my brother, his attention occasionally straying towards Selene but never lingering long enough to bridge the gap of silence.

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 pleasure house, 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 a year. 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, was Central 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 in contact 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.

Noticing my discomfort, Caelan acted with a tenderness that spoke volumes of the recent shift between us. He reached out, his hands enveloping mine, a shield against the biting wind. His breath, warm and steady, flowed over my fingers, a small gesture of care. He held both my hands in his, his actions gentle as he rubbed them together.

His touch, though filled with a gentleness meant to comfort, sparked unease within me. I wanted to pull away, but I was afraid he’d be offended. I knew he meant well, but I also knew his intentions. I couldn’t keep quiet much longer. He had to know how I truly felt.

“Caelan,” I began, my voice a mere whisper as I gently extricated my hands from his. “I think we should talk.”

His curiosity piqued, evidenced by a lifted brow. “Hmm?”

“I—” The words lodged in my throat, a barrier to the confession I needed to make. “I don’t want to make things uncomfortable between us, but you should know that I … I only see you as a friend. My best friend. And nothing more.”

He froze and slowly turned to face me. “Why?” was all he said, catching me off guard.

“Why?” I repeated dumbly. “Well … it’s just how I feel, how I’ve always felt. There’s really no explanation I can give you.” I stood my ground, although my heart raced.

Caelan’s reaction was immediate and intense, his physical presence overbearing as he stood. “When we were young, we promised to—”

“I was barely ten!” I protested, the absurdity of holding onto such words evident in the heat of my rebuttal as I stood to face him. “And you were what, twelve? We were children , Caelan. You can’t hold that against me.”

He gripped my shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make me wince. “I love you, Lyanna. I always have. Nothing can change that. You’ve been gone for ten years, just … just give us time. We’ll find our way back to each other,” he declared, his words a mix of plea and conviction.

But love was not a chain by which to be shackled. I shrugged out of his hold, rubbing my shoulders where his fingers bit into the skin. “I don’t need time, Caelan. I love you … I really do. But only as a friend.”

His denial was soft-spoken. “You don’t mean that.”

I frowned. “Yes I do.”

“No,” he muttered to himself as he began to pace. “You don’t know what you want. You’ll realize with time that I’m the only one for you. That no one will ever love you as much as I do.”

He was rambling, and I was starting to get a headache. He obviously wasn’t listening to anything I said.

“You can’t make me love you in that way, Caelan. It won’t happen.”

He stepped toward me, encroaching into my personal space and glaring down at me. “Is it because of him ?”

“Who?”

“Because of the savage we’ve taken hostage!” he yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. “Don’t make me say his name,” he growled.

His accusation, linking my feelings—or the lack thereof—to Ronan, was a strike too far, a blow to the fragile bridge of understanding upon which we treaded. Caelan's anger, raw and unfocused, pushed me further away.

I winced and took a tentative step back. “You’re angry and you’re not thinking clearly. I think maybe we should get some sleep.”

I turned to leave when he snatched my upper arm roughly. “We’re not done!”

I ripped my arm out of his grasp. “Don’t you dare grab me like that again!”

“If it were him , you wouldn’t have a problem with it,” he scoffed .

“I would,” I countered. “I am not property that can be handled as you please!” I snapped.

“Lyanna, please,” he begged. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I think you did,” I said. “You’re not the boy I once knew, and the truth of that terrifies me. I think it’s best if we put some space between us. I’m leaving. Please don’t follow unless you really want to see what I’m capable of.” I spun on my heels and left him alone.

As I stormed away, leaving him in the grasp of his turmoil, the distance I put between us was not just physical, but a necessary division. He needed to learn that he couldn’t get everything he wanted—including me.