Secret Heir_A Forbidden Love, Enemies to Lovers, Royal Romance Page 3

  He seems displeased by my profanity. I don’t give a shit.

  What he does then, shuts me up entirely though. One minute he’s standing with the morning sun encasing his solitary figure, the next, the daylight around him disappears. There are actual shadows seeping out of him, swallowing the light.

  I back up frantically, stumbling as I go, and nearly landing on my ass.

  Then as quickly as they had appeared, the shadows vanish again. Leaving only the daylight in their wake.

  “What—what the hell was that?” I almost shout.

  He turns to me, those knowing grey eyes taking in my flabbergasted expression.

  “A demonstration of the power of the Seraph. I forget that humans will only believe what they see,” he says.

  “Except you’re not human, Jazmine. At least not fully—your father was a Seraph, so that makes you half Seraph.”

  If I thought I was shocked before, it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling now.

  “And not just any Seraph. The Dynasties are the ruling class of Eden—the strongest Seraph bloodlines. In the beginning, there were eight Dynasties, but after the fall of Adam and his Adonis Dynasty, seven remain. Of those seven Dynasties, the two most powerful Dynasties are known as the sovereign Dynasties, the two royal bloodlines—the St. Tristan Dynasty and the Evenstar Dynasty. The rule of Eden has always fallen to one of these two sovereign Dynasties and before your father died, he was the King.”

  He fixes his eyes on me.

  “The blood that runs through your veins is the royal Evenstar blood which can be traced back to Eve herself. You are the heir of the Evenstar Dynasty, Jazmine. The last and only heir.”

  I let out a loud laugh, that sounds manic, even to my own ears, but what other reaction could I possibly have to those words?

  “You’re nuts,” I choke out, once the laughter subsides. But there is no humor in Magnus’s expression.

  “You know what I’m saying is true.”

  I sober up then.

  “No. I don’t. What you’re saying is crazy. I live in a trailer, for god’s sake.

  “You expect me to believe that my asshole of a father was a King and that I’m the heir to his royal Dynasty, next in line to the throne of a world which exists in an alternative realm?”

  Magnus looks back at me calmly, although I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind, no scratch that, I must have lost it already, because I’m still standing here, listening to this nonsense.

  “When a King dies, the seven Dynasties rule together until the next sovereign heir comes of age to ascend to the throne. It is … expected that the next in line to the throne will be the heir of the St. Tristan Dynasty.”

  “Oh, well thank god for that. Now, that we’re clear that I’m not about to be the next ruler of this alternative realm, you’re still expecting me to believe the rest of that bull? Well you’ve definitely got the wrong girl—because that thing that you just did? I can’t do anything even remotely close to that.”

  “Oh, really? You’ve never looked up at the night sky and felt like you were connected to it somehow? Never felt like you could control the stars and moon with just a single sweep of your hand, if you just only reached out? You’ve never felt like you could touch the wind or feel the pulsing of the waves in the ocean?”

  His words are like a punch to my gut. Because I can’t deny the truth in them. It’s as if he’s pried open my mind, read my deepest thoughts and is reciting them back to me. I have never been so unnerved in my entire life.

  “You may not know how to use them yet, but you do have these powers within you—it runs in your blood,” he says.

  “And if your foster home records are anything to go by, it would seem that you’re far more aware of your powers than you’d like to admit,” he adds.

  My jaw drops, but at this stage, I don’t even know why I’m so surprised that he’s managed to get his hands on my foster home files. I shudder at the memories of my time at those first few foster homes. I’d been too young to make sense of the strange things stirring inside me. Too young to separate reality from what couldn’t possibly be real and in my innocence, I hadn’t yet learned how to hide those parts of myself that no one could ever accept, myself included. After the first few therapy sessions and foster home changes, I’d learned pretty damn quickly, though. I’d learned to accept that I didn’t belong, but that I should never again let anyone see exactly why.

  “All your life you’ve felt like you don’t belong—not in any of your previous foster homes, not anywhere on Earth. You’ve always felt like there was something just waiting in the wings, dancing at the edge of your consciousness. Something that you can’t grasp in your waking hours, but you know it’s there.”

  I don’t want to hear more, but with some kind of morbid fascination, I can’t stop myself from listening. Because I’d been right about him. Those eyes see things, know things that no one in this entire universe should know.

  He steps towards me, and I know I have to get the hell out of here, although I have no idea where I am. But I can’t make my legs move.

  “There’s a reason why you’ve always felt like you didn’t belong. It’s because you didn’t—you don’t belong on Earth, Jazmine. You never will,”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I manage, but my voice sounds as shaken as I feel because right now, the entire universe feels like it’s spinning—and everything I’ve ever thought I believed, everything I’ve ever thought I’d known, feels like it’s being swept away in the storm.

  “You’ve always wanted more than your life on earth could ever offer you. It’s because you were made for something greater than a human life.”

  I can only stare at him in silence, not a single coherent thought left in me as he approaches.

  “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through, Jazmine, all the loss, the loneliness, the years you felt like you had nothing and no one. I can’t change that.

  “Your father was sent to Earth on a mission and fell in love with a human while he was there—your mother, but he knew it couldn’t be, because the law forbids it and your father had his duty to his Dynasty, to his throne. He knew that he would be the King of Eden and his people needed him. He didn’t find out about you until just before his death. His dying wish was for you to be found and brought here to Eden, so that you can claim your rightful place as heir to the Evenstar Dynasty.”

  “What was his name?” I find myself asking, although every fiber in my being doesn’t want to care.

  “Arwen—your father’s name was Arwen Evenstar.”

  There is another question echoing through my mind and again, I don’t want to care. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking, but the words come out anyway, although I am sure I don’t want to know the answer.

  “How did he die?”

  Magnus is silent for a long moment and the sadness that I glimpse in the depths of those grey eyes in that moment is so unending, that it makes it difficult to breathe.

  “He committed suicide.”

  The words floor me and I want to know more, but something about Magnus’s closed off expression tells me he already knows the questions I’m about to ask and the answers are not for me to know.

  “Your father was a brave man, Jazmine. A good King,” he says after a moment.

  “I can’t change the past, Jazmine. But I can change your future—you’re an Evenstar now. You always have been and from now on, things are going to change. I promise you that.”

  I’m silent for what seems like an eternity.

  “Let’s say I believe you—do I get a choice in any of this? What if I don’t want to live here in Eden. What if I don’t want to be a Seraph, an Evenstar heir or whatever? What if I just want my life back?”

  I feel the lie in those last words, because he’d been right earlier—I’ve always wanted more than my old life was able to give me. I was always searching for that more, although I never knew what it was—and now it’s bein
g revealed to me … I feel like someone’s placed the entire universe in the palm of my hand, and I have no clue what to do with it.

  “You don’t have a choice, Jazmine,” came his simple reply, but before I can speak, he continues.

  “It’s not safe for you on Earth anymore.”

  I remember that he had spoken those same words to me in the playground.

  “What do you mean, it’s not safe for me on Earth?” I demand.

  He only shakes his head and turns back to look out at the morning sky.

  “There is so much that you don’t know. So much that I can’t tell you. Even the other Dynasties don’t yet know about this threat and it must stay that way for now. But just know that I’m telling the truth.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I feel my anger rising again.

  He turns back to me.

  “I know that after all you’ve been through, it’s hard for you to trust people. But you can trust me, Jazmine. I’m your family, your blood. So, trust me when I tell you that Eden is the only place where you will be safe now.”

  He’s right. It’s not easy for me to trust people—and I sure as hell don’t trust this total stranger who is claiming to be my long lost grandfather from another realm.

  “Sorry, no deal,” I snap back. The words feel harsh on my tongue, but I swat the misplaced guilt away. Seventeen years without a single word and now he shows up and wants to play happy family? Granted, he didn’t know I even existed until a few months ago, but still. Then there’s the fact that this man has, effectively, kidnapped me. He’s telling me it’s because it’s not safe for me on Earth anymore, which in itself sounds insane, but added to that, he won’t tell me why. Yeah, we aren’t off to a great start here.

  The image of the shadowed figure in the woods flashes through my mind. For a split second, I consider telling Magnus. But I sweep the thought away. In light of everything that’s followed, the strange encounter seems even more surreal. From imagined threats to imagined worlds, I clearly haven’t been thinking straight since I left the diner. I expect to wake up from this surreal nightmare any minute now.

  “I’ll take my chances on Earth. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back,” I say instead.

  Those eyes look sad again, but determination is mixed in with it.

  “Well I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, Jazmine—you remember the way you came? That is also the only way back and this …” he says, holding up what looks like a key made of burnished gold, “is the only way a portal can be summoned.

  “There are only seven keys—one for each Dynasty and the Dynasty heads are the only keepers.”

  I notice the symbol of a crescent moon engraved into the bow and I wonder what it means.

  For a moment, I consider snatching the key and making a run for it. But after witnessing the shadows that Magnus seems to have on tap, I’m not that foolish. In any case, even if I am successful in my snatch and grab, I still have no idea how to use the damn key. A feeling of helplessness washes over me as I look out at the sweeping expanse of sea and sky.

  I feel the irony of it all. Only a few hours ago, I’d been standing on the beach in Rockford Cape, thinking that today my life was about to change—and it has.

  Ten years ago, on this day, my life was turned upside down when my mom was ripped from my world, and on the same day, ten years later, my life is being turned upside down again.

  But this time, as much as I want to deny it, it feels like something is being given to me, given back to me, and I can only hope, but it feels like life is done taking things from me and maybe, just maybe, I can let myself live again.

  4

  My first thought as I walk along the rocky shoreline is that everything is so much more beautiful here. The colors so vivid, they’re almost alive or maybe it’s just because I feel more alive in this place. It feels like whatever it was that had been lying dormant inside me, is now stirring and all the senses that I’ve long since learned to dull, are now coming alive.

  I haven’t entirely accepted the overwhelming truths that have just been revealed to me. I keep expecting to wake up back in my bed in that shit hole of a trailer, to find that all of this was nothing but a dream.

  But it never happens and something inside me is resigned to my fate. At least until I can get my hands on one of those keys, figure out a way to open up one of those portals and go back.

  But back to what? I ask myself. Back to the life that I hated? Back to the trailer park? Back to my friendless high school existence? Back to serving greasy meals and alcohol, wearing practically nothing but my underwear, to perverted, just to make a few dollars? As much as I hate to admit it, there isn’t anything for me to go back for. It’s a sad thought, because it’s basically the same as saying that up until now, my life has been utterly meaningless and that I have nothing to live for.

  I try to sweep the dark thoughts from my mind as I look out at the water. The sea has always been beautiful to me, and I’ve always loved the coastline, but the scene here is like no other I’ve ever seen. It’s wondrous, breathtaking, almost surreal. I itch to capture the scene with the stroke of my paintbrush, and with my artist’s eye, I can see the colors blending together to make up the picturesque scene.

  From this viewpoint, I can see that Arcadia is an island surrounded by a cluster of other smaller islands. I can see what seems like the smallest of the islands in the distance. A mountainous isle surrounded by sandy shores with a large cluster of regal looking buildings sitting atop the highest plateau. I wonder what it is.

  Magnus had told me earlier that Arcadia is the royal city. Looking up at the structures atop the mountains behind me, I can see why.

  Two large palaces fill the horizon—the one that I’m standing closest to, and also the one that I had woken up in earlier, is the Evenstar palace as Magnus had told me. Then there’s another palace gleaming pure gold in the distance, which Magnus had said is the St. Tristan palace. There are other large manors and mansions in between, five of them, to be precise. Each one as impressive as the next.

  The afternoon sun is blazing high in the clear blue sky and I tilt my face up to feel the heat of the sun against my cheeks, closing my eyes for a moment.

  It’s then that I feel someone watching. I open my eyes to see what I think at first is a flare of sunlight atop one of the ledges overlooking the shore where I’m standing. I squint my eyes against the white light and as it fades, I can make out a figure—a very tall and broad shouldered figure against the daylight. I feel the breath catching in my throat because even from this distance, I can see the face looking down at me, and it is the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. Handsome is too weak a word.

  His perfectly chiseled features could’ve been carved from the stone that he’s standing on and his lips are sensual in contrast. Ash blonde hair gleams in the sunlight, forming a halo around that stunningly beautiful face. I find myself thinking that this is how the human stories about angels must have started, because this guy looks exactly how I think an angel might. Except in place of angelic white robes, this guy is wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt, which accentuates his powerfully muscled body. The sight is surreal—he looks like a guy around my age but of course, I know he’s no normal guy. He’s a Seraph. Effectively, a god.

  I notice his eyes then. Even from this distance, I can see that they’re blue. But not just any blue—a shade of blue as endless as the sky above me, so vivid, that it’s difficult to look at for too long without feeling disoriented. I can feel myself burning under the intensity of those eyes as they look at me, look into me, travel the length of me, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

  There is something uncanny about those eyes. I wonder what they look like up close. I find myself thinking that it’s the same thing that people thought about my own eyes. I find myself having to blink a few times, partly because I can’t quite figure out whether what I’m seeing is real, but also because looking at that face is like
looking directly at the sun—you can’t do it for too long without being dazzled by the intensity of its beauty.

  I can tell nothing from this guy’s expression. It’s totally shuttered, like a stone wall. I catch a fleeting look of something indecipherable in the depths of those uncanny eyes, but it’s gone before I can even blink.

  Time seems to stop as I stand there staring at him. He has such a strange effect on me—I feel like I’ve been sleep walking up until now. Looking at him is like waking up.

  A split second later, there’s another flash of blinding light and when the light clears, the figure is gone.

  What the hell was that? I think to myself, once my sanity returns and I’m capable of thinking again. I convince myself that I must have just imagined it—nothing more than a figment of my already crazed mind. But I can’t shake the feeling that the image has already been burned into my mind, never to be erased.

  “You look wonderful, Jazmine.” I can hear the twinge of pride in Magnus’s voice as he looks me over.

  “I feel ridiculous,” I grumble in response, although it isn’t entirely true. I can’t deny that when I looked in large floor to ceiling mirror earlier, in what is now my bedroom, even I couldn’t help but be stunned by what I saw. I hardly ever wear makeup but the beauticians that Magnus had forced on me earlier this evening have worked their magic to bring out the angle of my cheekbones with a light blush and the fullness of my lips with a rose-colored stain. Dark eyeshadow lines my eyes and my already thick lashes look even darker. Even my eyes somehow look less unnerving or maybe it’s because the vivid violet with the startling silver rings isn’t so out of place in this world of equally vivid colors and uncanny beauty.

  Then there’s the dress—even I can’t help but appreciate how utterly beautiful this dress is. The violet fabric is rich and finely made, hand tailored, no doubt. It’s elegantly cut and clings to my curves in all the right places. The back is cut low, leaving the skin at my back exposed, shielded only by the sparkling gossamer fabric trailing from the shoulder straps of the dress. I don’t think I’ve ever owned a dress other than when I was a little kid, let alone an evening dress like this.