Page 32 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Sadira

S adira’s eyes were still rimmed-red as the cold wind lashed at her face as rain descended in the City of Antor.

She forced her gaze downward and not at the approaching buildings.

When she had awoken that morning and pulled back the drapes from her chamber windows, she was faced with not only the rising sun but the sight of Lord Alvan leading Princess Zarya around the gardens.

He gently lifted the princess onto the wall above the flower beds and crouched before her, and Sadira could not suppress her tears as the princess fell into Alvan, her body shaking with tears of her own.

Other than Caellum, Larelle was the first ruler who made Sadira feel welcome.

Sadira had pictured them becoming friends, yet now she did not know whether to grieve or act hopeful.

Their last conversation played on her mind as Sadira dismounted her horse, and her guards came to a stop.

Taryn reached for the reins. Now that the hall from their engagement required repairs, Sadira had sought a change in his position and requested he become one of her personal guards.

Larelle had asked Sadira about Wiccan and whether they had any other abilities besides what Sadira knew, like the gift of sight and an affinity for healing.

Although Sadira was unsure, she decided to help Larelle in the hope she would speak to her again.

The trip also allowed her to avoid Soren while searching for anything about Wiccan that may give Sadira an advantage against her sister.

A dull brass bell rang above Sadira’s head as she pressed on the glass-paned door, the navy paint peeling away onto her fingers.

She lowered the hood of her forest-coloured cloak in the hopes she could see better.

She could not. Despite the early hour, little light streamed through the one window as though the weather itself mourned those lost during last night’s attack.

Her eyesight was no better by the lack of sconces or fireplace in the small shop.

Only a few scattered collections of pillared candles burned on the worn, wooden worktops, with wax slowly dripping onto the books.

“Hello?” Sadira called into the small space.

“One moment,” a quiet voice called from behind a door, propped open by a jar of dark liquid.

Sadira waited and patiently folded her hands in front of her woollen dress.

She took in the singular room that was Athena’s Apothecary.

A large wooden table was pushed against each of the open stone walls, leaving Sadira in the centre spotlight.

Little of the wooden surfaces could be seen beneath the scattering of leather books, random jars, string-wrapped herbs, pestles, and mortars.

Behind a taller counter were countless mismatched shelves nailed into the wall, each housing rows of different-sized jars, all labelled in scrawled ink.

“Sorry for the delay.” A short elderly woman kicked away the jar by the door, wobbling the contents inside.

She kept her head down and wiped her hands against what Sadira imagined had once been a pale linen apron yet was now covered in a spattering of colour.

As she inspected her nails, grey hair tumbled over her face.

“It is not a problem,” Sadira said. The woman finally looked up as she stepped onto a stool behind the counter, elevating her to Sadira’s height. The woman raised her eyebrows, the gesture widening her hazel eyes and lifting the wrinkles on her forehead.

“The fallen princess wishes to grace my shop with her presence?”

Sadira winced. She hated that term.

“Sadira is just fine,” she said as the elderly lady’s eyes roamed Sadira’s body with a tense jaw.

“You look like your grandmother,” the woman said with a tilt of her head. Sadira could not hide her shock .

“You knew my grandmother?” she asked, and the elderly woman chuckled.

“I do not find it a surprise that it is my apothecary you walked into and not one of the finer ones in the square. She mentioned this place, didn’t she?” The woman’s eyes lit up as though recalling a positive memory. Sadira nodded.

“She mentioned it in passing, but not that she knew the owner.” When Sadira asked Caellum about the healers or elderly in Antor, he had listed the apothecaries in the square the next morning, like the woman referenced.

When Sadira mentioned this one, he claimed it was used by those wishing to keep their purchases a secret.

But Sadira’s grandmother often mourned the herbs she could gather in Antor and claimed Athena’s apothecary was the only place for the most trusted resources.

“Ha!” The woman laughed. “That bitch.” She shook her head as Sadira recoiled, taken aback.

“Oh no, dear!” The woman raised her hand.

“I mean no offence. Lyra was the closest thing I ever had to a sister; she always kept my secrets, though it was typical of her to take that promise so literally and not even confide in her granddaughter.” The woman’s laughter trailed as her smile faded.

“I assume she is gone,” she said softly.

Sadira nodded. The woman blinked rapidly before looking back at Sadira. “Which one of you did it?”

Sadira shifted on her feet, opening and closing her mouth.

“Come now, dear. I know about her vision. Which of you did it?”

Hundreds of thoughts rushed through Sadira’s mind.

If she knew the vision, did she know the prophecy too?

Had she told it to anyone else? What secrets had her grandmother kept for this woman?

Sadira glanced at her hands, wondering why Lyra had never revealed the true extent of their relationship before.

“Soren,” Sadira whispered, trying to push away the memory of her family's blood on her hands and their dead bodies lifeless at her feet. The woman hummed before offering her hand to Sadira .

“Athena,” the woman said. “I am Athena.” Sadira politely took her hand and shook it. The woman was elderly but did not appear as old as Sadira expected, given she had been friends with her grandmother. “What can I do for you?”

Sadira was grateful for the change in subject.

“I am travelling to Doltas Island in the morning. I require some supplies for the people, mostly herbs they struggle to grow without my presence, all dried: hibiscus, lavender, sage, and basil.” Sadira handed her the small list, and Athena began pulling bunches from where they hung from the ceiling, the rustling of the dried plants and the outside wind filling the silence.

“You know, you could have just grown and dried these yourself with your abilities,” said Athena, glancing at her from the corner of her eye. She stood on her tiptoes to reach for the dried hibiscus.

“I needed to get out of the castle.” Sadira glanced away. “It was a last-minute decision to travel to Doltas.” Athena hummed in question, so Sadira deflected.

“You said you knew about my grandmother’s vision.” She faced Athena again, who wrapped the order.

“Is there a question to follow that statement?”

“Why did she tell you?” Sadira asked. The woman pushed the paper bag of items across the counter towards Sadira.

“A secret for a secret,” Athena said. When Sadira raised an eyebrow, she continued. “I told Lyra a secret, and she told me one in return. Go on. Ask.” Athena prompted with an encouraging smile.

Sadira chewed her lip and glanced around the room. “What was your secret?”

“Are you going to offer me one in return?” Sadira pursed her lips, thinking of all the secrets she could not divulge. Athena chuckled. “Do not worry, child. I likely know all your secrets.” Sadira frowned, feeling a twinge of irritation that this woman presumed to know her.

“Even the creatures?” Sadira asked, and Athena looked her dead in the eyes.

“Even the creatures,” she said. “I saw their arrival in a vision.”

Sadira tried to maintain her temper as she crossed her arms.

“You knew people would die?” she asked, but guilt immediately washed over Sadira at her hypocrisy. She now realised how the others had felt when Soren revealed they had known the ruling families would die yet did nothing about it.

“That is the misfortune of being a Wiccan gifted with sight,” Athena said, stepping from her stool and heading back to the door from which she emerged.

Sadira wished to ask Athena more questions—anything that could answer what Larelle had asked of her, yet her questions may not matter if she is dead .

Sadira blinked rapidly, stopping her mind from roaming such a path.

“Do you know others? Where are they?” Sadira asked. Athena held the door open and paused.

“You will not find the answers you crave from me. Visit Albyn. There, you will find your answers.”

Sadira had even more questions than before.

Albyn sat at the edge of Garridon before the sea and was the closest to Doltas Island.

“And take the King with you,” Athena said, looking intently at Sadira, who read between the lines.

While Athena could not reveal her visions, she could guide her. Sadira needed Caellum.

“Wait!” Sadira called as Athena turned to close the door.

“Your secret to Lyra was that you were a Wiccan. You told her your secret because she told you that all those with a connection to the earth would be killed should Jorah usurp the throne. You wanted her to know that you would be included.” Sadira concluded, realising this woman had hidden in plain sight beneath the nose of Caellum’s father and grandfather before him.

A coy smile spread across the woman’s face.

“You owe me one secret, princess.” With the ominous words and the weight of a debt on her shoulders, Sadira was left to take her ingredients and return to the castle.