Page 6 of Song of the Shadow Prince (The Dragon’s Ballad #1)

5

CAT

M y mind spun when I realized this was not a dream. This wasn’t a bizarre ploy where the crew was punking me. I had really traveled to an unknown place where things were… different . Very different, according to Maeve, especially since dragons were involved. I needed to get the lay of the land and figure out how to get back to my world.

God, that sounded so weird to say. So unreal. But I couldn’t stay here. The crew was probably freaking out, or worse, the real Arya might have taken my place and could be wreaking havoc under the guise of being me. I couldn’t have that. I had a cheating boyfriend to deal with.

I cleared my throat. “So, Maeve,” I said casually, “tell me about this place… What’s it called again? Elle—”

“Elaria,” she corrected. “It’s ruled by the Drakonar Clan, which is one of four dragon clans. There’s a rich history behind the four clans involved, but—”

“If it’s a mouthful, I don’t care.” I waved her off. “Tell me about the Drakonar Clan. Do they have, like, real dragons?”

Maeve tilted her head in confusion. “No… they are dragons.”

My brows shot up and my eyes widened. “Whoa… you mean they shift into dragons?”

She nodded. “Centuries ago, these dragons mated with humans and their mates became their riders, but it hasn’t been that way in a long time.”

“So, there are humans in Elaria?” I asked hesitantly.

Maeve chuckled. “Of course! What do you think you are?”

I laughed awkwardly. “Yeah… of course.” Honestly, I had no clue. I could have been a garden gnome, for all I knew.

Maeve settled into her role as teacher. “Well, the dragon clans didn’t always rule. It used to be the fae, but they’ve fallen from grace and are now secluded in the Southern District,” she added with a shrug.

“Fae? Like fairies?” I raised a brow and she confirmed with a nod. “What’s the Southern District? Where do we live?”

The lady in waiting clucked her tongue. “The Southern District is where those less fortunate live. We live in the Northern District, with the rest of the nobility,” Maeve proudly declared.

My mouth fell open and I scoffed. Even in a fantasy world, elitism ruled. Of course. And I had to take over the life of a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Not that I was complaining, but also, like, damn . I just needed to roll my eyes for a second. “So what happened to the fae to knock them to the bottom of the social ladder?”

Maeve plopped down on a chair near the vanity and sighed. “This happened many centuries ago, but the fae attempted to enslave the humans. Since the dragons had a good working relationship with the humans, they partnered together to overthrow the fae. It’s said the fae were very cruel during their reign, so many of the other supernatural factions joined the dragon clans to further their cause.”

“Interesting,” I mused. “So what about me? What am I like?” I asked eagerly. “That beefed-up juice monkey accused me of stirring up trouble, so I’m guessing I’m not an easy person to deal with, huh?”

Maeve winced. “That was the third prince, Prince Damien. He’s been courting your sister, Lady Gianna for years, but something must have happened last night, because according to the other servants—”

I held up a hand. “I don’t care,” I sighed. “Tell me about me . What am I like?”

Maeve chuckled. “Well… if you truly want to know…”

“I do.”

“You’re not the nicest person in Elaria,” she started. “You’re actually probably the meanest… and cruelest. If I hadn’t been raised by your family and already knew you were human, I would think you were fae.”

I jerked back in surprise. “Ouch… harsh,” I murmured.

“I mean, you did try to push your sister overboard during the storm last night, my lady. If it weren’t for Prince Damien, she could have died,” Maeve whispered.

I nodded thoughtfully and then froze. “Wait a minute… That beautiful bastard was there? Last night on the boat?”

“Yes.”

I replayed last night when I woke up in the midst of the storm, surrounded by strange people on the deck of the boat. How I was nearly pummeled by an exceedingly tall and beautiful man. Was that…?

“Was the tall guy who nearly killed me last night this so-called third prince?” I nearly shrieked.

Maeve gulped and nodded.

“Son of a bitch!” I spat, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. I should have kicked him in the balls when I had the chance.

A prince. The storm. Dragons. It felt like a fantasy gone wrong. The lilting scent of lavender from the pillows and beeswax candles grounded me in this peculiar reality. I needed to find a way back to my own place and time, but first, I had to navigate this bizarre new world where apparently I was a villain in my own story.

I haltingly pieced together what I’d learned so far. “So, this third prince is a dragon?”

Maeve twisted her mouth to the side. “Sort of.”

I furrowed my brows and tried to tamp down my frustration. “What do you mean, sort of ? Either he is or he isn’t.”

Her eyes widened. “The third prince’s story is a bit complicated. He fell from grace many—”

“Good,” I interrupted with a chuckle.

“Be careful what you say, my lady,” Maeve whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s also known as the Shadow Prince. He may have fallen from grace, but he is not one to be trifled with.”

I grunted and shook my head. “Not surprised,” I mumbled under my breath. “Anyway, why did I want to push Gianna overboard? Why do I hate my own sister? She seems fine.” I shrugged, the confusion evident in my tone.

Maeve scrunched her little button nose as a look of discomfort crossed her face. “Gianna is the lord’s firstborn, but she’s illegitimate. She was born from an affair with a servant. The servant was sent away a long time ago by your mother, and due to her status, everyone barely tolerates Lady Gianna. But Lord Zacharia thought it was only fair to give her a title. On the outside, she seems fine. She’s quiet, demure, helps the less fortunate; she’s always feeding the hungry in the Southern District during her free time. But as you often like to point out, my lady, no one can be that perfect.”

I climbed out of bed and began to pace, my bare feet chilled by the cool wooden floor. “Maybe I’m not diabolical enough, but I don’t see anything wrong. The girl seems fine,” I muttered, feeling the smooth texture of the silk nightgown brush against my skin with every step.

“She’s fine for now,” Maeve said, her voice steady, “but I’ve been by your side since I was a child, my lady, and your gut is never wrong.”

I paused by the window, the bright daylight streaming in to cast a warm glow across the room and illuminate the intricate patterns of the lace curtains. The sky was a clear, vibrant blue. Outside, the garden burst with riotous colors of flowers in full bloom. Chirping birds and the soft drone of bees flitting from blossom to blossom filled the air with a sense of serene vitality.

Turning back to Maeve, I studied her closely, the sunlight highlighting the delicate features of her face. Her earnest expression, the way her eyes sparkled with concern, and the sincerity in her voice suggested that she genuinely believed the words she spoke.

My companion was a petite young woman who stood around five-feet-two inches. Her skin was fair and flawless, with a hint of a rosy blush on her cheeks, and her large, expressive eyes were a striking shade of green, like emeralds glinting in the sunlight. Long, dark lashes accentuated their vivid color.

Rich auburn hair cascaded down her back in a thick braid. She wore a simple gown made of light blue linen, which complemented her fair complexion. The dress had a modest neckline and long sleeves that ended in delicate lace cuffs. Around her waist was a thin, braided belt that accentuated her slender figure. She wore practical yet dainty leather shoes, suitable for her role and the long hours she spent following me around and trying to keep me out of trouble.

It appeared that Maeve was the only person I could count on while I was in Elaria. Her earnest concern and the way she watched over me suggested she truly cared. The question now was how to convince her that I wasn’t her beloved Lady Arya. Gaining her trust was the only way. But first, I had to figure out how to get back home, and the only logical place to start was where it all began – the river.

Maeve stood near the bed, her green eyes filled with worry and curiosity. Her auburn hair caught the sunlight, revealing subtle highlights that shimmered with a warm glow. “Maeve?” I called out, trying to sound casual. “What was the name of the river we were on last night?”

“River Elara,” she answered promptly, her voice soft yet clear.

I walked toward her, the silk of my nightgown whispering against the wooden floor. “Can we go on another boat ride out there, or maybe walk along the shoreline? I found it so beautiful, I’d like to see it again.” I hoped my words were sly enough that she wouldn’t catch on to my ulterior motive. If the portal back to my world lay in the depths of that river, then all I had to do was jump back in.

Maeve’s eyes widened in horrified shock. “What? Oh no, my lady, I would never take you back there after what happened last night! I think your father Lord Zacharia would flog me to death if I did.”

Her reaction was immediate and genuine, her small hands wringing together as she spoke. The fear in her eyes was palpable, and the idea of returning to the river seemed to terrify her. I heard the sincerity in her voice, along with a wavering tremble that suggested she was genuinely concerned for my safety.

I took a deep breath, the fresh air filling my lungs and steadying my resolve. The room around me felt both alien and familiar, the ornate furniture and heavy drapes a stark contrast to my usual surroundings. “Maeve, I appreciate your concern,” I said gently, trying to convey my desperation without scaring her further, “but I need to understand what happened last night. If I can return to the river, maybe something will click and I’ll remember.”

Maeve bit her lip, her green eyes flickering with indecision. She stood from the chair and stepped closer, her delicate fingers brushing against my arm. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make me feel a connection to her. “My lady,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I don’t want to see you hurt. Last night was so frightening. I thought we’d lost you.”

The raw emotion in her voice made my heart ache. I could see how deeply she cared for Lady Arya, and it was that level of affection I needed to tap into. “Maeve?” I placed my hand over hers. “I need your help. I feel lost and confused, and you’re the only one I trust. Please, help me understand what’s happening. Just one visit to the river. I promise to be careful. But just know I’m going back to that river… with or without you.”

She looked into my eyes, searching for something. After a long, tense moment, she slowly nodded, her resolve wavering but still present. “Alright, my lady,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we must be cautious. I’ll arrange it, but please promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” I felt the first flicker of hope. “Thank you, Maeve.”

As she turned to make the arrangements, I scanned the room once more and tried to manage the weight of the situation pressing down on me. The scents, sounds, and sights of this world were vivid and real, but I was determined to find my way back home, no matter what it took.

After changing into a dress that looked like it came straight out of a historical drama, I felt a bit more comfortable—just a bit. The silk, sapphire blue dress shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, featuring intricate needlework along the neckline and sleeves. Its hemline fell gracefully to mid-calf, edged with delicate gold thread. A high collar framed my neck, while the fitted bodice cinched at the waist with a wide, embroidered belt, making me look like a medieval fashionista.

Maeve had carefully chosen a dress with long sleeves that covered my tatted arm. When she first noticed my tattoos she frowned and asked where they came from, but she didn’t believe me when I told her they were from my buddy Mel at Atomic Tattoo. The ink puzzled her, but she didn’t bring it up again.

Maeve led me through the winding corridors of the Ryder residence’s outdoor courtyard with practiced stealth. The polished wooden floors creaked softly underfoot, and the walls were lined with rich tapestries. Beeswax and lavender seemed to permeate all the rooms and hallways, and faint, murmuring voices could be heard from behind closed doors. Every now and then we paused at a corner while Maeve peeked around to ensure the coast was clear before signaling me to follow.

Finally, we reached a side entrance and Maeve gently pushed open the heavy oak door. A carriage waited just beyond the gate, its dark wooden frame gleaming in the sunlight. The driver, an older man with a weathered face and kind eyes, nodded curtly as Maeve helped me into the carriage. The leather seats were cool and smooth, the faint scent of horse and hay mingling with the musty odor of the carriage’s interior.

As we set off to the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones, I peered out the window, my eyes wide with wonder as we passed through the Northern District.

Imagine Disneyland’s Fantasyland on steroids. The buildings were grand and imposing, their stone facades adorned with intricate carvings and colorful banners fluttering in the breeze. I half-expected to see Belle twirling in a yellow dress, singing about her provincial life. Elegant shops lined the streets, their windows displaying an array of fine goods: shimmering silks, glittering jewelry, and beautifully crafted furniture. It was like someone had taken a Renaissance fair, mixed it with a high-end mall, and then sprinkled it with a dash of medieval magic.

People bustled about, their clothing a mix of practical garments and elaborate attire, reflecting the district's wealth. I spotted a woman in a gown that looked like it had more fabric than my entire wardrobe back home. Children played in the streets, their laughter ringing out like bells, while merchants hawked their wares to passersby. The air hummed with activity, and mingling scents of fresh bread from a nearby bakery and the rich aroma of roasting meat from a street vendor wafted through the carriage window. My stomach growled. Apparently, time travel didn’t come with a meal plan.

A man in a floppy hat was juggling fire and no one seemed particularly concerned. Meanwhile, a few feet away, a woman haggled over the price of what looked like a real-life unicorn horn. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, but the horn was still there, glinting in the sunlight. I had to admit, as far as fever dreams went, this one was pretty spectacular.

When we reached the outskirts of town, the landscape began to change. The buildings grew sparser, giving way to lush fields and dense forests. The air was fresher, tinged with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Birds sang in the trees, their melodies harmonizing with the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by a mild breeze.

As we neared the shores of River Elara, the sound of rushing water grew louder until it was a steady, soothing roar. The river was wide and fast-flowing, its surface shimmering like a ribbon of silver under the late afternoon sun. The tang of fresh water and damp earth filled the air, mingling with the fragrance of nearby wildflowers.

The carriage stopped and Maeve helped me down before paying the driver and telling him to wait for us. I almost wanted to laugh. He wouldn’t be waiting for me . I was going home.

Maeve led me to a small, weathered boat moored at the edge of the river. She helped me in, her hands steady and reassuring, before untying the rope and pushing us away from shore. The boat rocked gently as we drifted downstream, the water lapping against the wooden hull providing a soothing backdrop to our journey.

“This was the best I could secure on short notice, my lady,” Maeve said as she began to row. “The other boats were already rented out, and well… you might not remember, but right now your family’s finances aren’t the best.”

That made me quirk a brow. I snorted. “You mean to tell me I’m from a noble family that’s broke?”

Maeve bit her lower lip and nodded sheepishly.

“Wow… life definitely can’t get more interesting than that,” I murmured. “Have no fear, Maeve. This little… dinghy will do just fine.” I smiled at her.

The riverbanks were lined with tall, swaying reeds and vibrant flowers. Wiry trees leaned over the water, their branches forming a canopy of green that dappled the sunlight. A cool, refreshing breeze tickled my cheeks, redolent of fresh water and the earthy aroma of the forest.

As we glided along the river, I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of this new world. The colors were brighter, the sounds of nature more vivid, and the air was refreshingly clean compared to the pervasive smog of Los Angeles. For a moment, I allowed myself to simply enjoy the ride. The gentle rocking of the boat and the soothing sounds of the river lulled me into a sense of peace.

But then I remembered my mission. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and stood up in the boat, causing it to wobble precariously.

“My lady, what are you doing?” Maeve cried out, her eyes wide with alarm.

“I have to try,” I said, determination in my voice. Before she could stop me, I jumped into the river’s frigid embrace.

“My lady, no!” Maeve shrieked.

The shock of icy, churning water stole my breath away, and I felt myself being pulled under by the strong current. I kicked and flailed, desperately searching for any sign of a portal or an opening that might lead back home. But the murky water offered scant visibility. My lungs burned and I struggled to hold my breath, panic setting in as I realized I was quickly losing the fight against the current.

I bolted to the surface and sucked in a deep breath before diving back under water and swimming further down to search for the elusive mirror. This was my chance.

Fishes swam so close, they brushed my shoulders and legs, but there was no glimmering portal. I was quickly losing patience and air. My chest tightened and my throat closed in when I realized I needed to return to the surface. I couldn’t keep doing this. Either I would drown in this river or Maeve would pull me back onto the boat.

Just when I didn’t think I could hold on any longer, a strong hand grabbed me and hauled me up to the surface. I gasped for air, coughing and sputtering as I collapsed into the bottom of the boat.

“Are you insane?” a deep, familiar voice growled. I looked up to see Damien, his dark eyes flashing with anger. Black hair clung to his forehead and his strong jaw was set in a hard line.

Was I dreaming again?

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his grip on my arm tight and unyielding.

I was obviously dreaming. The bastard was being an asshole again.

Shivering from the cold and adrenaline, the wet fabric of my dress molded to my skin. “I thought I could find a way back,” I muttered, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“Back to where?” he barked, his voice rough with frustration.

“Home,” I said softly, looking up at him. “You wouldn’t understand.” I looked away, trying to prevent him from seeing the tear that slid down my cheek. I hated feeling weak, but I’d felt that way since being plunged into this unknown land.

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression filled with confusion and anger. “You’re not making any sense, Arya,” he said finally, and his grip on my arm slightly loosened. “There’s nothing in that river but water. Your home is back in the Northern District. In the Ryder residence!”

I scoffed and pushed him away, then scrambled to my knees. “I’m not Arya, Goddamnit!” I shouted with such fierceness that even Maeve startled as she hovered behind Damien. I slammed my hand on the deck of the small boat.

Damien narrowed his gaze on me before turning his attention to Maeve. “You said the healer mentioned she had memory loss?”

She nodded. “Yes, but she’s been rambling about things I don’t know about, Your Highness,” she whispered through silent tears.

I barked a sarcastic laugh. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me! Not only was I trapped in an unknown world… or a dream, or whatever the hell this was, but I couldn’t find the way back home. I was stuck. Truly stuck. I’d gone through much in my short twenty-seven years of life, but I rarely felt truly powerless. Not since the day my father died, when I couldn’t do anything to help him.

I shook away my melancholy. I refused to give up. There had to be a way back home. If the river wasn’t the answer, I’d find another path. But I would return to my old life one way or another.