Page 36 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Caellum

T he foliage-covered cliffs of Doltas Island rose before the ship as they docked, unchanged from when he first met Soren at its peak.

Much had altered since he last stepped foot on the island: his engagement to a princess, battling the threat of deadly creatures all while trying to uncover a prophecy.

The realisation struck him more when he offered Sadira his hand to help her exit the ship.

She stepped onto the dock of the place she once called home, a term stripped from her when she was forced to become his betrothed.

The sun glinted on her golden hair as she smiled at him reassuringly.

His stomach was in knots, though he was unsure if it was from the uneasy journey or the princess standing by his side.

He intertwined his fingers with Sadira’s as they walked down the narrow wooden dock, his footing uneasy.

Caellum glanced behind him to ensure Sir Cain was close by.

The commander of the Garridon army nodded firmly to him, and Caellum turned back, watching his footing as waves threatened to spill over the planks.

The same surly men from his last visit greeted them yet their clothes appeared newer, their braids less frayed, and their skin less dirty.

Sadira had forewarned him that the island would appear much different from last time and admitted that her family hid the reality of Doltas from any outsider who stepped foot upon it.

Looking at Sadira now, with her straight posture and her head held high despite the weight of the Garridon crown, she looked different.

She had offered to return the heirloom to him, but he insisted she kept it.

It was as if the crown allowed her to present as someone else in her high-necked, thick velvet green dress, much different from her usual bright florals.

Caellum could not imagine how odd it must feel for Sadira to return home.

He gripped her hand as the men bowed, though he quickly realised they bowed to Soren as she stepped around the pair and clapped the men on the back.

They grinned and began climbing to the top of the island, deep in conversation.

Sadira and Caellum exchanged a look. Silent communication had become common for them—an easy glance here or there, the squeeze of a hand, and the angling of a head.

As traumatic as their engagement ball had been, it appeared to have brought them closer, as had Soren’s antics, though she would hate to know such a thing.

After Soren had confronted them in the infirmary, an unspoken agreement was forged between Caellum and Sadira, neither of whom trusted her.

Sadira tensed at Caellum’s side as they reached the top of the Island.

“I can’t say I’d like to do that climb regularly,” Sir Cain huffed beside him, yet despite his commander’s age, he was fitter than most men Caellum knew.

Behind him, waves crashed against the rock face, like a permanent warning against those who visited.

His stomach turned at the thought of peering lower at the narrow steps they had climbed.

Instead, he focused on the towering trees looming over him on either side of the clearing.

To his left was a man with a bow strapped to his back and furs acting as a shield from the wind.

Rigid, the man looked out over the ocean. A guard, Caellum realised.

Many footprints marked the mud before him, a sign the watch post was constantly manned.

He glanced at Sadira, whose eyes looked anywhere but ahead of them, where a single track led deep into the forest. On the track was a group of men and one woman standing in a row, deep in conversation, except for one man, who watched Sadira intently.

His strong build exposed his biceps through the cuts in his sleeves as though any shirt would be too small for them.

Caellum peeked at his own arms before looking at the man again.

A slit carved his eyebrow, though Caellum was unsure if it was purposeful or inflicted.

His hair was shaved at the sides, yet remained brown at the top, secured in a knot.

It was not a hairstyle typical of Garridon; perhaps it came from his Wiccan culture.

“Is that him?” Caellum asked in a hushed voice, his lips barely moving.

Sadira nodded. The pair had quickly realised their return to Doltas would involve Sadira crossing paths with her former lover, Rodik.

Although Caellum knew Sadira loved Rodik, he was uncertain about her current emotions and whether she wished to reunite with him someday.

Early in their betrothal, Caellum said he valued their friendship to make their marriage work, but he had not considered how either might feel if someone else was in the picture. Rodik stepped forward.

“Princess Sadira. King Caellum. Welcome back to Doltas Island.” Rodik’s voice was deep and matched his overall appearance.

Caellum could not help but broaden his stance to match the welcoming, muscular man.

Sadira remained rigid as she offered Rodik a polite smile.

Behind them, Soren cleared her throat and stepped forward, peering intently at Rodik, who clenched his jaw, refusing Soren’s eye. “Welcome, Queen Soren.”

Soren smirked beside Caellum and pushed past the group.

The three men from the dock followed suit, leaving Sadira and Caellum in Rodik’s company while others lingered nearby.

The men dressed similarly to Rodik in fitted trousers, boots, accompanied by leathers, and furs.

Each had an axe strapped to their backs, along with bows and arrows.

Hunters or guards? Caellum wondered. The woman, however, would not look out of place in Nerida, if not for her thick cloak.

Underneath, Caellum spotted the sandals on her feet, and a thin dress tied with woven fabric, similar to those he had seen on Neridian women.

She wore nothing else but a small dagger on her hip, yet she tugged the cloak tighter to hide it and crossed her arms. When Caellum met her eye, her gaze was wary.

“Princess Sadira, I would appreciate a moment with you,” said Rodik, and Caellum held his tongue. He had expected Rodik to want time with her, though it was bold to make the request so quickly without meeting Caellum’s eye. Caellum squeezed Sadira’s hand in support of whatever decision she made.

“Very well,” she responded, a nervous lilt in her voice.

“We will take you to the quarter.” The woman in the Neridian dress raised her chin, her voice more certain than her previous expression implied when she addressed Caellum.

“Thank you, Eliza,” Sadira said at Caellum’s side. “I shall not be long, but I will meet you there. Please offer the king and his commander some food in my absence.”

Eliza glanced at Sir Cain behind Caellum before gesturing them to follow her along the winding path that led to the crumbling wall he had visited once before.

Caellum felt Rodik’s eyes finally land on him.

Caellum tugged gently on Sadira’s hand and turned her to face him.

The engagement ring glinted beneath the streams of light filtering through the trees when he brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

Sadira blushed, and their eyes met. He stepped away to follow Eliza.

***

Sadira had been right to forewarn Caellum about how different Doltas Island would appear.

When the group reached the crumbling wall, instead of stepping through the torn fabric he had peered through once before, they detoured to the right and circled round following the wall, which seemed in better repair with every step he took.

Ivy continued to grow, but instead of tearing the wall apart, it seemed to entwine and nurture the bricks, as if it was at one with the wall, standing tall.

The wall continued to grow, stretching higher until the group gathered at a large archway with wooden doors reinforced with iron.

It looked like the entrance to any castle.

Eliza knocked in a specific pattern, and the gates creaked open .

“Princess Sadira wasn’t joking,” Sir Cain murmured beside Caellum in his gruff accent.

“This is far different from what you described.” Caellum nodded and hummed his agreement.

He paused as he was met by floods of noise and took in the sights before them.

An entire town square led to a castle that stood as strong as Antor’s.

Different people crossed his path, all dressed in varied clothing; it was as though Caellum was in the Neutral City, where the influence of all four realms was felt.

While some women dressed similarly to Eliza, others wore brightly coloured sarees and lehengas like Nyzaia often did.

Many men wore clothing similar to Rodik, while others sported tailored jackets that matched Caellum’s.

He increased his pace to catch up to Eliza.

The sound of clashing metal reminded him of the Abis Forge, as did the spices in the air drifting from several butcher stalls lining the wall of the quarter, where a line of people queued with plates.

Laughing children ran past him, looking no different and no less healthy than Edlen and Eve had growing up.

He surveyed each stall. A woman knelt, pouring liquid on a child's knee, the clear gel reminiscent of the liquid in Vala’s healing potions.

A man cleaned bottles of Neridian wine before pouring new contents into them.

Every stall reminded him of one of the realms. It hit him then.

Soren must have an endless network of spies hidden on the mainland to have transported such copious amounts of goods back to her people.