The Lost Heir

Chapter One

The wind came in icy waves as the giant creature glided through the moonlit sky, high enough that the hooded figure atop its back could no longer see beneath the clouds.

"Lower, Neala. I can't make out the city from here."

The dragon huffed and angled her neck, dropping into a slow descent. She did this every time. Almost as if the beast herself knew what a bad idea it was for her rider to be so close to the one place The Witch had been adamant she stay away from. It was forbidden, as they both knew. But she couldn't help being drawn to this city of wonders, anymore than she could help breathing.

That would seem like an exaggeration to anyone else, but as the creature underneath her ascended lower, and the pull beckoned, she knew it was not. Velaris was always more alive than any city she had ever visited, in spite of the late hour, or possibly because of it.

An old memory crept into her mind, as she thought back to the first person who had ever spoken to her of this place. On the rare occasion that her father had visited, he'd enjoyed telling her all about it.

"It is made entirely of starlight, Velaria, just as you are. I knew it the moment you were born, which is why you were named after it," he would say. And each time she asked when she would finally be able to see it, his answer had always been the same. "Soon."

But eventually, as all good things do, his promises faded, and with them, so did the visits. Until one day, when they'd stopped altogether. Velaria had known in her heart that he had died. Had felt the pain of it, so sharp and unbearable, it had knocked her to the ground. And in that very moment, she'd heard an echo of a similar pain, the roar of it, call to her.

Her only instinct then had been to winnow, with no particular destination in mind, and when she landed, she'd been surrounded by glorious night sky and exquisite buildings, just as her father had described in his stories. Panicked, she'd fled and did not dare return for many years. Now, decades later, she visited at least once a week. Far enough away that she could not be seen, and veiled by her own magic. The irony of it all almost made her laugh. The city that would have been hers in another life, always just a mere winnow away.

But winnowing in again after the first time, she found, had not been so easy. The city was warded, and although the High Lord's power was no match for her own, it proved quite the nuisance. He and his inner circle were notified immediately when anyone entered, so it was better that she keep her distance. Especially since she was not yet ready to meet him. Rhysand. Her brother, by blood if nothing more. Born just a few years after her, and yet he was the child their father had favored, along with his other daughter, but not Vela. No, that position had been taken up by The Witch instead.

Though she would have preferred no parent to the one she had gotten stuck with. The Witch that had seduced her father hundreds of years ago in a moment of weakness and had bore him a child he never asked for. They had that in common, she and her father, for this was not the life she'd have chosen for herself either. To be raised by a woman with the darkest heart this world had ever know, for the sole purpose of enacting her own selfish agenda.

But the pull was getting worse, and she hoped that by increasing her visitations to twice a week, she could somehow lessen the weight pressing down on her. Still, Vela made sure never to linger, otherwise it made it that much more difficult to leave.

She stroked Neala's scales. "Just a few more minutes, then you can fly us home."

The dragon snorted, but did not move away from Vela's hand.

In a matter of seconds, the air stilled. The smell of something familiar floated past them, causing her to involuntarily shudder. It would have been almost imperceptible to anyone else, but not Neala, and whatever her dragon sensed, so did she. They surveyed their surroundings, Vela twirling the night around her, ready to strike at any potential threats, but they remained alone. She steadied her breathing and listened, using her high fae ears. Then she heard it. Like a whip snapping against flesh, her neck moved toward a loud roar of pain.