Lost Heir (Blood Weaver Trilogy #2)

Chapter 7

7

S unlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as I woke, my senses tangled in the soft embrace of my bedding. I lay sprawled across my bed in a haphazard fashion, a testament to a good night’s sleep. The rhythmic knock at my door pierced the serene silence. With a voice thick with sleep, I called out, “Come in!”

Tessa, adorned in the crisp attire of a court lady entered, carefully balancing a basin filled with water and a clean cloth draped over her arm. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she greeted, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the morning.

Greeting her with a yawn that I hastily smothered behind my hand, I managed a groggy, “Good morning,” in response.

“I brought some warm water to wash your face,” she offered, placing the basin on the nightstand with a gentle clink. She gestured to the other court lady who followed with a smaller basin. “As well as some water to brush your teeth.” Once the court lady placed the basin down, she quickly left my chambers.

I rolled out of bed, feeling the cool floor beneath my feet as I approached the basin. The warm water was a shock to my senses, instantly dispelling the remnants of sleep as I splashed it over my face, meticulously cleaning the sleep from my eyes. Tessa handed me the cloth, which I accepted with a nod, drying off the droplets that clung to my skin. “How is everything out there?” I inquired as I moved on to brush my teeth.

Tessa hesitated and cleared her throat subtly. “Are you asking me how the court ladies are, or are you wondering about your late-night visitor?” Her eyebrow arched inquisitively, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words between us.

I paused, caught in the act, and then laughter bubbled up from within me. “I'm guessing there will be no secrets between us,” I conceded, wiping my mouth with the cloth and tossing it aside.

“I don’t believe so, Your Highness. For me and Viktor to keep you safe, it's best if there aren’t any,” she replied, guiding me towards the vanity. Once seated, she began to brush my hair with gentle strokes. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Your Highness?”

I met her gaze in the mirror, a reflective pool of my own uncertainties. “Honestly? I don't know,” I confessed. “Ronan and I are … complicated. I know I shouldn’t like him, but …”

“But you do,” she finished for me, a soft understanding in her voice. “Did you spend a lot of time with him in the Central Plains?”

“Not really. We only met a few months ago,” I admitted with a snort, the absurdity of the situation not lost on me .

“Would you like my advice, Your Highness?” she offered, her fingers weaving through my hair as she crafted a braid.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“I think you should be careful,” she murmured, her voice a whisper of caution. “I don’t doubt his feelings for you, but the palace is a dangerous place where secrets are rarely kept in the dark.”

Her words weighed heavily on me, a reminder of the delicate balance I must navigate. “I know. I’ll be more careful,” I promised, a lump forming in my throat.

“Don’t worry. Viktor and I will do our best to protect you, Your Highness,” she reassured me, finishing the braid with a gentle pat on my shoulder.

Rising from the vanity, I watched as she moved to the wardrobe to select the day's attire. “How is Selene?”

“She’s been placed in one of your spare bedrooms here in the Eastern palace. His Highness has not come to visit her,” Tessa informed, returning with a navy-blue dress.

“If he does, turn him away,” I instructed firmly as she helped me into the dress. “He’ll only put her in danger by showing her too much attention.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Tessa and I emerged from the sanctuary of my chambers into the opulent hallway of the Eastern palace, where Viktor awaited with the disciplined patience of a seasoned guard. His posture was a mix of rigid formality and alert readiness.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” he intoned, offering a bow that was both graceful and filled with reverence as we stepped into the corridor.

“Morning, Viktor.” I returned his greeting with a warmth that attempted to bridge the formal distance between us. “Is breakfast being served in the Eastern palace today? ”

He shook his head, his expression solemn. “Your mother requests your presence in the dining hall.”

His words sent a flutter of unease through me, stirring a nest of worries. Why would my mother summon me so early? Could she have learned of Ronan's visit last night? The thought was unsettling.

“Relax, Your Highness,” Viktor interjected, his voice a soothing balm to my spiraling thoughts. “She also requested the presence of Prince Marcellus and Prince Caelan.”

“Oh,” was all I managed, a mixture of relief and residual tension coloring my response. “Lead the way.”

The journey from the Eastern palace to the dining hall situated in the heart of the Central palace was an immersive passage through the splendor and history of the royal estate. As we stepped out of the Eastern palace, soft morning light bathed the meticulously maintained gardens in a golden hue, casting long shadows on the dew-kissed flowers and neatly trimmed hedges that lined our path. The air was crisp, filled with the gentle sounds of nature awakening and the distant murmurs of the palace coming to life.

Viktor led the way with measured steps, embodying the solemnity of our destination. Tessa and I followed, our silhouettes gliding over the cobblestone pathways that wound through the garden's heart. The scent of blooming roses and the subtle fragrance of jasmine was suspended in the air, a natural perfume that soothed the senses and momentarily eased the tension of the impending breakfast meeting.

As we neared the Central palace, the architecture transitioned from the Eastern palace's serene elegance to a more imposing, grandiose style. Towering columns and expansive windows adorned the facade, reflecting the early morning light in a dazzling display .

We finally arrived at the dining hall, a room that bore witness to countless family gatherings, political discussions, and the delicate dance of court life. Its doors stood open, inviting yet imposing.

Upon entry, the sentinels announced my arrival with a formality that felt both grandiose and suffocating. Marcellus, Caelan, and Mother were already assembled, the air thick with the weight of unspoken expectations.

“Good morning,” I greeted. I took my place in the chair I’d occupied before leaving Valoria, acutely aware of the dynamics at play, with my mother presiding over us like a matriarch assessing her brood. “Apologies for my tardiness.”

“Nonsense.” My mother dismissed my apologies with a gesture that was both regal and dismissive. “It'll take a while until you adapt to palace life again,” she mused, a hint of something unreadable in her tone. “I had the kitchen prepare your favorites. I heard you still love mooncakes.”

A soft chuckle escaped me at the mention of the pastry. “Yes, I do.”

Just then, the kitchen maids came out with breakfast, setting an array of plates on the table before us. With my mother at the head of the table and Caelan and Marcellus across from me, the three of us waited for my mother to eat first before we dug into our meals.

“I’m sure you missed the comfort of your own home these last ten years,” my mother started. “I wanted to help you get settled in the Eastern palace, but all the ladies I sent were released from service. Were there any problems?”

Her slyness was not lost on me.

Caught mid-bite, I paused, the air charged with tension. To reveal my awareness of her surveillance would be imprudent. I chose my words with care, donning a smile that masked my inner caution. “No, Mother, no problems. I spent the day yesterday roaming the palace and made friends with some of the ladies in service. I decided to bring them on. I’m sure your ladies could be used elsewhere instead of wasting their time with me.”

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 being pampered like she once was. Maybe we are 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 the least you 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 know exactly why 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 could possibly be—”

“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 would never !” 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’s why 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 were barely 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 were children , 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.

Caelan laughed dryly as he began to pace. “Knowing all this, you’re still worried about his wellbeing?”

“Caelan, you don’t know everything—”

“Then tell me!” he shouted, frustration boiling over into disbelief and anger. His outburst, marked by a loud slam of his palm on the table, startled me, revealing the intensity of his emotions.

I flinched. “I can’t.”

His laugh was sinister as he came around the table to me. His approach was menacing, prompting me to retreat, asserting my readiness to defend myself if necessary. The fear wasn't of him, but of the potential violence his anger could unleash .

“Caelan, stop.”

He froze. “Are you … are you afraid of me?”

“No. But I believe you let your anger get the best of you sometimes. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it. If you try anything, you’ll force me to react, and I don’t think you want that,” I said hesitantly.

“Lyanna—”

“Caelan, I know what you want, but I can’t give that to you,” I whispered. “I’m not eleven-year-old Lyanna anymore.”

“I won’t let him have you,” he growled.

I narrowed my gaze on him. “You’re not letting anyone have me, because I’m no one’s property. I’m not yours to keep or give away.”

Caelan prowled toward me, his steps slow and measured. “You may not be property, Lyanna, but you have always been mine. So no, I won’t allow him to have you.”

I stumbled back, trying to keep him at arm’s length. “I’m not yours, Caelan.”

“So what? Are you his?”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that’s none of your business.”

When Caelan reached for me, I quickly held up a hand, fisting it and tightening my hold on the circulation of his blood before he could touch me. He seized before me, dropping to a knee as he clutched his chest. Gritting his teeth, spittle flying everywhere, he glared up at me. “Release … me,” he growled.

“No,” I answered. “I’ve been patient with you because of our shared history, Caelan, but enough is enough! I won’t put up with you behaving this way any longer. If you can’t control your temper, I will stop you. And you won’t like my methods,” I snarled .

“Lyanna!” he roared into the otherwise empty dining hall.

I squeezed my hold, cutting off his circulation until he gasped for air. “I’m warning you, Caelan. If you wish to remain friends, don’t push me.”

“Lyanna!” Marcellus shouted as he ran back inside the dining hall. “What are you doing ?” He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, forcing me to release my hold on Caelan.

Caelan gasped and fell on all fours, slowly getting back to his feet and charging toward me. Luckily Marcellus cut into his path and stood in front of me, pushing me behind him protectively.

“What the hell are you doing?” Marcellus exclaimed as he pushed Caelan away. “Were you really going to hit her?” he scoffed as if he couldn’t believe his friend’s behavior.

With his gaze locked on mine, Caelan pushed past me and Marcel and stormed out of the dining hall. My brother kept me tucked behind him until Caelan disappeared. After a beat, he turned to face me, looking me over for injuries.

“Are … are you okay?” he asked, slightly confused by the situation.

I nodded. “I’m fine. What are you doing back here?”

“I was returning to the kitchen to take some food back when I heard the screaming.” He released me and put some distance between us. “What were you thinking, Lyanna? He’s our friend. How could you use your blood magic on him?”

“And what? Let him hurt me?” I scoffed.

Marcel rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t have—”

“He would,” I countered, then rolled up my sleeves to show the scars that remained from Caelan’s torture session back in the Central Plains. “He has. ”

My brother shook his head. “That was different, Lyanna. He didn’t know who you were—”

“And that makes it okay?” I frowned. “He’s capable of bad things, Marcel. Don’t be blinded by friendship.”

“I’m not,” he muttered. “But—”

“But nothing. I won’t put up with it.” I pushed past him. Before I got too far, Marcel spun around and grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

I furrowed my brows. “You’re sorry? For what?”

“For everything.” He peered into my eyes. “I … I didn’t know.”

I sighed. “It’s okay, Marcel, I don’t blame you.”

“I said a lot of hateful things. I didn’t mean any of them.”

I patted his hand. “I know. It’s water under the bridge.”

He nodded and released me. With nothing left to say, I left the dining hall where Viktor was waiting for me with Tessa.

“Your Highness!” Viktor quickly approached. “I saw Prince Caelan leave in a hurry. Is everything okay?”

I nodded. “Yes, it’s fine. I handled it.”

Viktor looked hesitant but didn’t push further. “Your mother had a few choice words for me as she left.”

I raised a brow. “Did she now?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I handled it,” he mimicked.

I threw my head back and laughed. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he said solemnly. “Shall we return to the Eastern palace?”

I nodded. “Yes.”