Page 69 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

ODESSA, PRESENT

T he ocean is calling to me.

I’m standing at the window, looking out over the sea. The waves crash against the small, rocky beach beside the castle in time with my breathing. It feels as if the water is reaching out to me. Like it knows that there’s no other option for me but to sink beneath the waves.

It’s been four days since I was locked in the tower. I know that there’s still a chance of getting out of this—of Daemon arriving in time to find Kastian and keep me from being forced into a marriage, but everyday my hope dwindles a little more and the call of the sea grows louder.

Magnus hasn’t returned to the tower since the first day, except once to ask me to write a letter to Daemon and Alix telling them that I’m safe.

I wrote it, but only because I was sure that they’d be able to read between the lines and know that we’re in trouble. I’m sure they’ll come to help, with or without their budding army, but I don’t know how long it will take the letter to reach them. By the time they get it, it might be too late.

I could be married and Kastian could be dead.

He might be dead already.

I try not to have that thought; try to shove it firmly from my mind every time it pops into my head, but it’s becoming harder and harder with each passing day.

I try to remind myself that I’d know if he died because we’re bonded, but that thought is only more terrifying.

It’s not as if I have years of experience of how a bond is supposed to feel.

Apparently, I wasn’t even aware of it for over a century, so how can I be sure that I would know if he was hurt?

Even now, when I focus, I can’t feel anything. Kastian seems distant and unreachable.

A sharp knock sounds at the door. I don’t even bother to look away from the window. I know that whomever it is—servant or soldier—will come in anyway no matter what I say. Sure enough, the doorknob turns and the hinges creek.

“Odessa?”

I glance over my shoulder. There’s an unfamiliar servant girl standing there wearing a slightly too large dress. She’s holding a bundle of white silk.

“Whatever that is, put it on the bed,” I say without inflection.

The girl shuts the door behind her, but doesn’t move to release the bundle of fabric.

I look over my shoulder again at her. Her face is screwed up, as if in concentration.

“Didn’t you hear me? Put it on the bed.”

“Shut up for a minute, I'm trying to concentrate,” the servant says sharply.

My eyes go wide in surprise—it’s probably the most emotion I’ve shown in days, but that barely registers. “What did you say?”

The girl says nothing, then before my eyes, she changes.

Her limbs grow longer and she shoots up several inches, her body shifting to fill out the too-large dress. Her dishwater blonde hair darkens and lengthens, and her small eyes grow larger in her skull.

I step back against the wall, alarmed. “What the?—”

“Shh!” Lyra Von Bargen says, shaking out her arms. “Don’t scream or anything, then they’ll know I’m in here.”

I gape at her, and it takes me a long moment to find words.

“You’re a doppler,” I finally blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

She raises her eyebrows. “Obviously. I wouldn’t have been able to come up here as myself. My father has a dozen guards on the stairs making sure you don’t escape.”

I shake my head in complete and utter disbelief, then blink at her a few more times, trying to pull myself together.

The last time I saw Lyra was from beneath Magnus’s desk in his former office, and before that it was when she was threatening me in the hall outside my guest room. That feels like an entire lifetime ago—no, it was an entire lifetime ago.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“I came to help,” she says. “This is your wedding dress—” she holds out the bundle of white fabric. “—put it on, and I’ll walk you out of here pretending to be a guard.”

“Why would you help me? We were never friends.”

“I know,” she says flatly. “Maybe I feel guilty about that.”

I scoff. “Doubtful.”

“Believe whatever you want,” she says dismissively. “But you’re not going to find anyone else willing to help you so you’d better decide now if you can live with trusting me.”

I shake my head as if to clear it. I need a second to think.

Perhaps I’m feeling a bit numb at the moment, because the shock of seeing Lyra after all this time is quickly dissipating.

Even watching her change her appearance right in front of me isn’t as surprising as it feels like it should be.

What does shock me, though, is that Lyra would ever want to help me.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain yourself. ”

“Oh sure, it’s not like we’re in a hurry or anything. Shall I let you braid my hair while we pour our hearts out to each other?”

I scowl. Even as she’s offering to help she sounds a bit aggressive—spiteful, even. “You’re Magnus’s daughter. Why would I believe this isn’t a trap?”

Her face twists in disgust and her eyes flick away from me. She lets out a long sigh. “Fine. You’re the one on the short timeline, not me. What do you want to know?”

My mouth gapes open like a fish. What do I want to know? Everything.

“Where’s Kastian?” I ask.

She winces. “Please don’t ask me that first. I promise I’ll tell you, I just think you should get out of this tower first.”

My heartbeat speeds up, thumping relentlessly against my ribs. “Why?”

“Because where he is won’t change where you are, and in less than an hour a real guard is going to come in here and take you downstairs to marry my father, and then I won’t be able to help you anymore.”

My heart starts pounding faster. Less than an hour? I hadn’t realized this was all happening so soon. I hadn’t realized that it was already too late.

I glance at the window, where the water is still just visible on the horizon, then turn back to Lyra. “I don’t trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, but I’m not here to hurt you. If I were, I would have done it already, and I would have done it using someone else’s face.”

That’s not a bad point.

“Why would you want to help me?”

She takes a deep breath. “Because Magnus cannot gain more power. It would be catastrophic to all of Ellender, and using you he would have nearly unlimited influence.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want your father to gain more power? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Magnus isn’t really my father,” she snaps, noticeably not commenting on whether or not she’s behaving like herself.

Remembering that Magnus already told me he can’t have children, I look over Lyra, scanning her face.

She’s tall and willowy, with olive skin, green eyes, and long brown—almost black—hair.

In short, she doesn’t look anything like her supposed father.

Magnus is pale and blonde with grey eyes.

More importantly, though, Magnus’s features are painfully ordinary.

For whatever else can be said about Lyra, no one could deny she’s striking.

“You’re adopted?” I guess.

She scoffs. “‘Adopted’ is a strong word for what he did. He bought me.”

“Excuse me?” I blurt out, instantly alert. “He bought you? What does that mean?”

Lyra crosses her arms over her chest and glares at a point slightly over my right shoulder.

When she speaks, it comes out monotone. “My parents were extremely poor and I had many siblings. I was one of six or seven, I think, it’s hard to remember now.

” She frowns, her eyes growing distant for a moment.

“Anyway, Magnus learned of my shapeshifting abilities when I was very young. I don’t know how he found out, but he went to my parents and offered to buy me from them and take me back to Hydratta. ”

I gasp, horrified. “And they just sold you?”

“They had half a dozen other children to feed.” She shrugs as if it doesn’t bother her, but her expression is tight. Clearly, this bothers her very much.

“Why would he want you?” I ask.

“He thinks long-term and always wanted power. He thought I’d be useful.” She scowls again. “It was similar to how he’s kept you in the back of his mind all these years.”

I shudder. “He’s delusional if he thinks I’ll ever let myself be useful to him. I’d rather die first.”

She frowns. “I wish I could say the same. For years I sought his approval and did all sorts of horrible things just because he asked me to. Just spying at first. I’d turn into someone else and walk around the castle, then report back what I’d heard.

Later, when I got older, he’d sometimes send me on more complex missions.

I’d have to steal things, or sometimes plant evidence to be found later.

For a long time I drew the line at killing anyone myself, but I certainly helped orchestrate murders even if I didn’t lift the knife. ”

“How old were you when you went to live with Magnus?” I ask, frowning.

“Five. Why?”

“Then whatever you did, it’s not your fault. You were too young to know better and your parent was telling you what to do and praising you if you did it right.”

“I know,” she says briskly. “I don’t blame myself, I blame him.”

We share a dark look.

“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment, knowing that words aren’t nearly enough.

“It’s fine,” she waves me off. “Aside from the occasional times he’d ask me to transform into someone else to spy on the court, I wasn’t treated badly.

Magnus wanted others to believe that I was his daughter so he treated me like I was.

I was raised here at court and had the best of everything.

Tutors, clothes, jewelry. In many ways my life was probably better than it would have been with my family. ”

Again she sounds bitter, but this time I get it. I’d be more than just bitter if this had happened to me—I’d want revenge.