Page 50 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Sadira

A ll hopes of ever being on the same side as her sister rode away into the flower fields of Albyn as Soren took off at a gallop towards Antor.

The group had wasted no time returning to the mainland.

The journey by ship had taken a mere few hours, a benefit of the short crossing between Albyn and the Island.

Sadira spent most of the excursion rubbing Caellum’s back.

He was not made for the ocean. Yet her focus regularly strayed to watching Soren pace the ship with her wolves, and her constant glances at the pouch at Caellum’s side did not go unnoticed.

The sisters ignored one another for the entire journey.

Something had changed since retrieving the talisman, like fate had cemented itself for the sisters and set them on different paths.

Sadira made her loyalty to Caellum clear by ensuring he took the talisman.

Sadira thought back to her encounter with Rodik, who quickly reached for her hands the moment they were alone, but Sadira felt nothing: no butterflies, no sense of familiarity, or spark.

Sadira would never wish harm on another, yet she knew Soren was wise enough to realise that harming Rodik was no longer a substantial threat. Soren held nothing over her now.

“Do you think she suspects us?” Sadira asked Caellum as they walked side by side along the flower fields on the outskirts of Albyn.

“I think she believed I wished to show you another settlement within your realm, one you should rule over when you are queen,” Caellum reassured her, offering his hand for the large leather book Sadira had propped under her arm.

If Sadira had told Soren the real reason for their visit—that she and Caellum were trying to uncover more about her Wiccan heritage—Soren would have insisted on joining, given that it was her heritage, too.

Yet Sadira and Caellum had a clear, mutual understanding of their distrust for her sister.

“She likely loathed the reminder that it is you who will be queen, not her.” Caellum offered his free arm to Sadira, who looped her hand through it with easy familiarity.

“It is she you should be suspicious of,” Sir Cain said from behind. Sadira paused with Caellum and turned to face Garridon’s commander, who wore matching armour to that which Soren had left in.

“Trust us, Sir Cain, we are more than suspicious,” Caellum said. Sir Cain leaned in, his bright red hair glinting beneath the early morning sun.

“Two guards said she asked for an estimate on how long it would take to reach Stedon.”

Sadira frowned. The sisters had learned of the different settlements in Garridon while growing up, but she could not recall any reason why Soren would wish to visit Stedon, which was mostly shielded by Hybrooke Forest. With Soren’s spies dotted around Novisia, she had no reason to visit the settlement.

News was usually delivered to her by letter, so why would she visit alone?

“Stedon is past Antor, is it not?” said Sadira, peering up at Caellum for confirmation. He nodded. “She must be meeting someone there for a reason.” Sadira confirmed, suspecting Soren of trying to accrue new allies.

“We will be safe here if you leave the guards. Follow her,” Caellum commanded, like a true king.

Sir Cain nodded and left them to continue their walk into Albyn.

It did not go unnoticed by Sadira how unaffected Caellum seemed among the fields of sweet peas.

He took her hand and rubbed the opal on her ring.

She did not know if it was an act of reassurance or if he was simply unperturbed by the reminders of his past.

Caellum’s love for Elisara still worried Sadira, who remembered the longing on his face when she last asked him to visit Albyn, back when they first visited Antor together.

Yet he appeared focused now, intently listening to Sadira as she retold the details of her trip to Athena’s Apothecary.

Her recent excursion was also the reason they took the large book from her room in Doltas.

The tome was passed down through her family, and Sadira hoped a more experienced Wiccan could decipher it and uncover information to help against the creatures, or learn more about the unique gifts Wiccans possessed; as she had promised Larelle.

Sadira glanced behind to the dock, the coast of Nerida clear in the distance. She hoped her letter had reached Alvan. Seeming to sense her feelings, Caellum squeezed her hand.

“He will find her,” he reassured, and Sadira nodded softly.

Albyn differed greatly from Antor. While the many trees surrounding Antor reminded her of Doltas, Sadira connected with Albyn more, called by the open expanse of flower fields, often harvested for royal displays or healing antidotes.

The acres of flowers surrounded small, thatched homes leading to a modest manor that had a sleepiness to it.

Sadira wondered if it would be absurd to live here when her children took the throne.

She blushed at the thought that was so far ahead and stole a glance at Caellum.

Citizens bustled around her in the late afternoon, rushing through the cobbled streets to make their last purchases before the storefronts closed for the evening.

While the pathways reminded her of Antor, the buildings were far shorter; each shop was painted white supported by dark wooden beams. Thatched rooftops lined each store and home, with smoke floating from their chimneys.

It was a much cooler town, being so close to the coastline winds.

In another life, Sadira imagined this was a life she was destined for.

The calm ambiance of perhaps owning one of the many florists they passed.

Wooden buckets brimming with freshly cut flowers wrapped in brown paper were displayed outside, the colourful array prompting a smile from her lips.

“I do not suppose Athena gave any indication as to where we should look in Albyn for other Wiccans?” Caellum asked in a hushed voice as they entered the town. Sadira shook her head.

“I hoped we would simply have a sense for it, or someone would find us,” she responded in the same quiet tone.

“My king!” called a voice. They turned to the gathering of people lining the shops, where a tall, gangly man with shoulder-length blonde hair approached with a genuine smile.

“Lord Gregor.” Smiling, Caellum removed his hand from Sadira’s and clasped the hand of the man before them.

“Your guards reached me in time to keep you from walking further than needed,” he said. Caellum tilted his head, mirroring Sadira’s confusion. Gesturing with his hand, Lord Gregor signalled for them to walk with him.

Sadira smiled at the citizens, who stopped and whispered at the king’s unexpected arrival, and when Caellum took Sadira’s hand again, she blushed as a group of women squealed at the gesture.

“All the rooms in my manor are filled,” Gregor explained. “After the events at your engagement, I took in the families of any deceased who hailed from Albyn. My staff have cared for them, relieving their burden of returning to homes now haunted by the dead.”

I like him. Sadira had not properly met any of the lords but could quickly tell that Gregor was an honest, caring man. Despite being close to Caellum’s age, deep laughter lines etched Gregor’s skin, matching the wrinkles in the outer corner of his eyes.

“We can try to make our visit quick and leave before nightfall,” Caellum said, but Gregor shook his head.

“No, no! Please, it would not be fair to force such a quick trip after you have already endured such a long day of travel.” Gregor reassured, coming to a slow stop outside a larger establishment; flower boxes lined the many windows, and laughter gravitated from the door as it was pushed open.

Sadira’s eyes tugged on the symbol engraved in the wood: a whirl of different shapes.

She refrained from widening her eyes and discreetly glanced at the book tucked under Caellum’s arm with the same symbol on its worn cover.

“This may not be fit for a king and future queen.” Gregor motioned to the door. “But I can vouch for the owners, and the inn is rather comfortable.” He smiled and looked at Sadira, who examined the sharp angles of his face and his wide hazel eyes. She recognised the sincerity behind them.

“Do you have any family remaining in Garridon, Lord Gregor?” asked Sadira. The lord smiled and looked at his feet.

“I do have a great aunt who runs an apothecary in Antor.” Sadira smiled knowingly. “She is far too stubborn to take up my offer of comfortable living in the manor.” Gregor held the door open for them. “I believe you will enjoy your stay here, but if you need anything further, please ask.”

***

Caellum had made sure Sadira sat in a velvet-lined booth in the tavern connected to the inn before speaking with Gregor at the bar.

She flicked through the book she wished to take home with her and smiled.

Home . Since leaving Doltas Island, she felt a grounded certainty.

There had been little else she wished to take from her old chambers, though Caellum had asked about practically every object in the room.

The book was all she wanted. Over the years, she watched her grandmother pour over it, slapping her or Soren’s hands if they ever tried to look.

Propping the book up, Sadira began reading, hoping her display of the book’s cover would entice whoever could help her.

She flicked through pages of potions, wishing she had ink to mark those of interest to her, and after several turns, she settled on a page about objects with the words ‘ Magical Imbuement ’ outlined at the top.

She frowned at a sketch of jewellery below.

The page on the right was indecipherable, written in a language she did not recognise.

Sadira looked up to where Caellum stood, accepting the two goblets being handed to him.

The leather pouch hung at his side, home to the other half of the talisman.

Did the Wiccans help to create the talismans?

She read the first page on the left, written in her own language, when Caellum approached.

“It is often found that jewellery is the most commonly imbued item. Many have approached Wiccans over the years with pure and impure intentions for their romantic requests. However, other items can be imbued with power, too: goblets with the ability to kill its drinker, clothing that allows the person to mimic their original owner, and books reciting to the reader what they wish to hear, or transporting them to the places within.” Sadira scoffed, beginning to doubt the truth in the book.

“It is not uncommon for swords to be imbued.”

Swords.

As Caellum placed the goblet down on the table and slid in beside her, two more bodies joined on the opposite side of the booth.

Sadira met the inquisitive stare of a pale, red-headed beauty with hair so long it fell below the table in curls.

A man with short greying hair and a bushy beard sat beside her, leaning on his forearms as he glanced around the room with a twitch in his eye.

Sadira cleared her throat and placed her hand on Caellum’s.

“Can we help you?” Sadira asked with a sweet smile.

The pair exchanged a look and huddled close.

The man leaned forward and positioned his back to the room, shielding their expressions and words from any curious revellers.

The woman glanced over the man’s shoulder, her eyes scanning the room before facing Sadira.

“We have been put on this path to help you—to help you all,” she said in a voice that floated on air. Sadira kept her face neutral.

“And how are you to do that?” she asked. The woman reached forward, pointing at the drawing in the book.

“I can tell you how our people imbued the sword,” she whispered.

Caellum tensed .

“What sword?” he asked. The woman’s head snapped to him, and she narrowed her eyes.

“You know which sword, usurper.”