Shadows of the Lost Heir

There is nothing worse than the feeling of uselessness. The feeling of being forgotten and ignored. When you’re a princess with no power. Not the power of the throne. That is something I could never attain being the seventh born child of the king and queen of Atalar. I mean elemental powers. To control the wind, the water, earth, and fire.

I wanted nothing more than to be like my siblings and my parents. I wanted to be just like them. An elemental royal just like it’s been for hundreds of years when a boy or girl would receive their powers at age ten and be blessed with the ability to control an element for the rest of their lives.

Only royal blood could attain such a gift so you can imagine how much controversy has been around about me not being a pureblood princess. However, my parents both say they are certain that I am their child.

There has never been a powerless royal in Atalar before. Never. It is said to be impossible according to our history. Eight years ago, I should have received my powers. I got none. My parents despise me, my mother especially. For what reason, I can’t say. It’s not my fault I was given no elemental power and it’s not my fault that she along with my father can’t win the war either.

I was powerless. That’s how I’ve always been, that’s how I am, and that’s how I will be. Forever.

[Chapter break]

“Aleah!”

I turn around to see my brother, Brock, racing towards me. Despite it being nighttime, I was aided by the moonlight and could make out his chocolate brown hair flowing behind him. Brock always seemed to be happy, and I always admired him for that, even in times like this— times of war, he never fails to bring a smile to my own face. I missed those careless days when we were children with no worries. Now is a time of war and blood with a tremendous weight being forced onto his shoulders.

I remember before the attack, when plants grew, and the skies weren’t stained black with smoke. I remember when peace was taken for granted, when the citizens of my kingdom could walk about the streets without worrying for their families safety. All it takes is one misstep and we go to war.

It was an assassination attempt on our king—my father, that ignited the war. People say that they tried to assassinate him to make us weak and vulnerable while others say that they were jealous of his power and wanted him dead. Whatever the reason, it ignited a war that would last for years, kill thousands, drain our cherished resources, and stain our rivers and oceans red with the blood of our fallen soldiers.

Atalar has been on the losing side of this war since the start. Yes, our military is quite strong, but not as strong as Trithia’s. In fact, Trithia is known for its strong military, which is why no one has had any reason to attack them— except us. After the assassination attempt on my father’s life failed, we had no choice but to declare war. If we did nothing, that would make us look weak, but now, I wonder if we would have been better off if we did nothing. Our forces are weaker than ever. Our men on the battlefield are starving and hope is running out. I’ve only heard the stories, but the front lines are nothing but barren wastelands. There is nothing alive in no man’s land in between the trenches that have been dug on either side, and no one can take two steps before ending up with an arrow in the chest.

I’ve never been to the front lines before even though I’ve asked to go probably a thousand times by now. The main reason is because of my mother. All of my other siblings have seen the war with their own eye’s, they’ve all seen the damage that’s been done to our borders themselves, but I’ve always been denied that privilege. My mother always says that a young girl like me should never have to see something so brutal, but it wasn’t so long ago that I turned eighteen and I think that’s plenty old enough.

My mind is torn from my thoughts when Brock finally reaches me. I can hear his uneven breaths, clearly, he’s been running around the palace for quite some time. I can see that his hair is all messed up and frazzled. He must notice my staring.

“What is it?”

“Oh nothing,” I say with a broad smile across my face, “your hair just looks like the ancient rug sitting in the ‘history’ section of the library.”

“Well,” he says smugly, “I did just run about halfway around the palace looking for you and before that I did just finish training with Antonius.″ he explains, bringing his hands to his head to try and fix his hair.

“You could help me instead of standing there laughing like a buffoon,” he protests.

“Oh, I’m the buffoon, you should look in the mirror sometime, Prince, your hair looks matted and wet and it sounds like you just ran five miles with how heavily you’re breathing,” I retorted.

Brock sighs and gives me a look before saying, “I may as well just have run five miles throughout this palace looking for you,” he says, “and my hair can’t possibly be that bad looking.”

“No, it’s really not,” I say, “it’s just so funny to see you like this after searching for me. I know you’re looks mean a lot to you, Brock, but—”

“You know my looks are everything,” he interrupts with a charming smile.

“Oh yes, how could I forget about all of the girls constantly swooning over you at court.”

Brock laughs at my remark and I join him. For a while there we just stand there, laughing. I suddenly forgot why I was out stalking the palace at night in the first place— the reason Brock is out looking for me. However, that feeling is soon replaced with dread when a voice comes from the shadows.

“Well, if it isn’t the two bumbling idiots back at it again,” a voice said from down the hall. I noticed that voice right away. Amora. “You know, maybe if you two stopped acting like a bunch of clowns, you would be somewhat respected in court,” she teases.

Any joy that I might have been feeling in that moment was washed away with hatred and disgust. I hated Amora. I hated that she was so perfect and beautiful, that mother always favored her while I was treated like a toddler. I hated how people adored her and I hated how she acted like she was so much better than me. But most of all, I hated that it was the truth. I wasn’t pretty or elegant like her. I wasn’t born to be a princess like she was. I never liked being treated like the royalty I was while she seemed to thrive in it. In a way, we were complete opposites, the only thing we had in common was our blood which has ruled Atalar for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.

The reason our bloodline is special is because each family member is “gifted” with one of the four elements. All of my siblings were given the ability to summon and control their element. Water, Air, Earth, or Fire. My father wields fire. My mother wields air and so does Amora. Breya and Brylee can both control water. My brother Sebastian wields water and Brock wields Earth. My other brother Clifton wields Fire. But me? I have no powers. No one knows why, not even my parents. Because of it, I’m treated like filth. I barely get to leave the palace and if I do, I usually have to find a way to sneak out which I’ve already done a couple times already.

My brothers have been trained for war and sword play since they could hold a stick in the air. Tristan is twenty-five, the oldest of us and has been training for about twenty years. Brock started his training when he was six and he’s twenty-one now. Clifton just turned twenty-four one month ago and has been training for about seventeen years, I think— it’s hard to remember when each of them started their training. They have all been going out to the front lines for years now. Clifton is said to be one of the most skilled military leaders of the time. He’s won us quite a few battles and without him, I bet we would be in worse shape than we are now even. Even Tristain admits that Clifton is better than him. My brothers’ gifts have proven very useful on the battlefield. With all three of their gifts combined, they’ve been able to cause some severe damage— it still never seems to be enough though against the Thrithians

I could see a wave of annoyance wash over Brock’s face. “We were doing quite fine on our own before you showed up, Amora. Isn’t it late for a girl such as yourself to be walking the palace at night? Why don’t you go back to gossiping with all of your courtesan friends.”

“Oh, brother you know I would, it’s just that I can never shake the feeling that all the ladies are trying to be friends with me to get closer to you,” she says with a charming grin.

“Well, Amora,” he says, “I can’t imagine why as it’s quite obvious as to who will be selected at the coronation.”

“Oh yes. Tristain. Father can never shut his mouth about how amazing he is on the front lines and how he’s such a great military leader,” Amora speaks about Tristain like she’s annoyed by him—jealous even. She pauses before continuing on. “Neither one of you is a very good fit for the throne. You, Brock, are only ever useful on the battlefield, your only skill being in swordplay. And you?” Amora says, looking me up and down judgmentally, “Well, you’re never useful for anything, it seems.”

“Enough, Amora.” Brock warns.

Amora disregards the warning and continues on anyways, “I assume you were about to sneak out of the palace again,” she must notice my surprised look. “Oh, it’s quite obvious Aleah. With that outfit you have on, one could only guess.”

“At least when I’m out of the palace, I’m free from you,” I could feel the rage start to boil in my stomach, but the lessons from my youth come flooding back to me. Princesses do not get angry. We stay composed, calm. It would be a great error to show any emotion, especially anger.

Amora chuckled before she said, “That’s cute, Aleah. Just don’t stay out for too long, you never know who’ll find out that you’ve left. Not that anyone really notices when you’re gone anyways,” she chuckled to herself before she left us standing alone in the hallway.

After Amora left me and Brock alone, we stood there for a couple minutes in silence, daring each other to speak first. Finally, Brock broke the silence.

“I’m really sorry about her Aleah, I—”

“No, it’s okay,” I interrupted, “I’ve been dealing with her my whole life.”

Another wave of silence washed over us before Brock spoke again, “Aleah um... the reason I’m out looking for you is because mother said she needed to speak with you. She said it was urgent you come right away.”

Mother never requested to meet with me, ever. I was probably in trouble again. Amora probably told her about me sneaking out. I could feel my heart beating in my chest over the endless possibilities as to why my mother wanted to speak to me.

“Did she say why?” I asked, a hint of worry in my voice.

Brock put his hand behind his neck before saying, “No, she just told me to find you. But hey, I’ll stay there with you. Whatever it is she has to say, she can say it to me too.”

I felt a little bit of a tension release at his offer, but I had a feeling that Brock’s presence wouldn’t make the situation any better. “Thank you, Brock.”

“Come on,” he said, offering me his right arm. I reluctantly took it, and he led me to my mother.

It was the throne room that Brock led me to. When we stopped in front of the doors, the guards gave one look at us before nodding and opening the doors. The room was dimly lit but I could still see the gold decorating the walls which were lined with torches, the only sources of light. Half of the ceiling was made with glass, letting the moonlight pour in. As we made our way closer and closer to the golden thrones at the end of the blue carpet, I could make out my mother, sitting atop the dais where her female voice boomed.

“Thank you, Brock, for finding her. You may leave now”

“Actually mother,” he says, “I would like to stay here with Aleah, if that’s alright with you.”

Mother laughed, “I love how you’re always looking out for your sister but your disobedience to me is quite concerning.” Brock’s eyes shifted downward to face the floor, he had overstepped. “But yes, I suppose you can stay. The news will spread quickly enough.”

Barely any time had passed before the question sprang forward to my mind. “What news?” I ask. My voice was clearly shaky and full of concern and I hated it.

“As you know, we are on the losing side of this war. We have been since the start and we will not be able to withstand our current conditions for much longer. In light of this, your father and I have made a request to the king of Trithia.”

No. no no no no no. My mind started racing to the worst conclusions.

“What kind of request?”

“In two weeks from now, you will be betrothed to Prince Darian of Trithia.” My mother’s words felt like a jab in the gut. I always knew a day like this would come. The day when I would be sent off to marry a man I never met, a man I don’t know. I never thought the day would come like this. I never thought I would marry a man as evil and merciless and cruel as Darian. I could feel Brock shift uncomfortably behind me.

I

“Mother, I don’t think—,” Brock began before I cut him off.

“No.” The word that came out of my mouth wasn’t anything more than a whisper, but it seemed to splinter its way through the air

“No?” My mother questioned as she stood up from her throne, towering over me and Brock. “May I remind you, Aleah, that the fate of this kingdom rests in this marriage.”

I knew she was right; I knew the only way to survive this war was to marry Darian, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree to doing it. Darian was the son of a man who murdered thousands of my people in cold blood and will continue to do so with no mercy. But, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, an alliance with Trithia seems to be the only way to survive and the only way for there to be an alliance is through marriage.

“I understand, mother. But why must it be me? Surely one of my sisters would be better. Brylee, Breya, even Amora would all be better suited than me,” I argue.

It is true. Brylee and Breya are well mannered, pretty, and don’t cause a fuss everywhere they go. They know how to act as a wife and what to say in court. They’re everything a husband would want. Amora? She’s perfect in every way, it seems. I could never begin to compete with her. It’s like she said, you’re never useful for anything. The words spin around in my head over and over until my mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“In fact, Aleah, it wasn’t you who I was going to marry off to the prince. I was actually considering Brylee or Breya to marry Darian in the first place. But after giving it some more thought, I changed my mind. Your three sisters could still be chosen at coronation,” she says, sparing a glance at Brock who has been standing so still that I almost forgot he was there, “and we don’t want to take that chance away from them by marrying them off to someone else.”

The words felt like a million daggers just jabbed my stomach. I knew I had no chance of being selected as heir but hearing it now. I felt like I meant nothing to my parents. I was just someone they could use as a last resort, a backup plan. They never considered me a possible heir to the throne. Was there ever a time when I meant anything to them?

“So, you’re just going to use me like I’m some sort of backup plan?” My words come out low and cold, anger stinging my voice. I could slowly start to feel rage boiling in my stomach. I felt like I never had control over anything in my life and now I don’t even control who I marry and spend the rest of my days with. I balled my hands into fists at my sides and furrowed my brow.

“Aleah,” my mother’s voice interrupted, “you need to calm down immediately. You will not be able to act this way in front of Prince Darian. This is no way for a Princess to act.”

Her words only fueled my anger, enraging me more, but I knew she was right. If I lose my temper in front of Darian, I may doom my whole kingdom and everyone in it— or at least everyone left in it. It pained me to admit it, but my mother was right.

“Fine,” I say, my voice low and still full of anger, “I will marry Darian. But just know, mother, that I am not doing it because you asked it of me. I am doing it for the greater good of Atalar and nothing more.”

I turn my back to my mother and storm out of the throne room. I could feel her eyes on my back as I did, then I heard her voice call out one last time, “You may not think this now Aleah, but once you marry the prince, you will be a hero to Atarlan and her people.” Her words meant nothing to me. I didn’t want to be betrothed and I certainly didn’t want to be a hero. I just wanted to be, well, I guess I don’t really know what I want to be.

I felt nothing but rage as I stomped out, like I needed to hit something, but I didn’t let it show. I stayed as composed as I could right up until I pulled open the door and before I could think otherwise about it, I slammed them behind me.

It was harder than usual to sleep that night. My mind was racing with thought. Of how my life will change. How Amora will undoubtedly tease me for the rest of my life about it. I can already hear her voice inside my head, taunting me, calling me pathetic.

Once I was back in my room and comfortable lying in bed, I tried so hard to just try and forget about the events of today, but the task seemed impossible. So, instead, I tried to focus on something else other than my upcoming betrothal or Amora. Instead, I tried to listen to the rain pounding on my balcony outside and I watched the lightning illuminate the sky as a bolt struck the earth.