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I froze.
Why? Why was she here of all places?
I could see her headed my way through the glass front of the shop. I wouldn’t be able to slip outside before she arrived.
My mother was one of only four people in existence who knew my face. My true face. If she saw me here, a place I was most decidedly not supposed to be, I would be severely punished. Not just me, either. Others would feel it too.
I had to run.
The beginnings of panic crept through my limbs as I turned my gaze toward the back of the shop.
“Hey, Jack?” I called to the middle-aged apothecary, rapping my knuckles on the counter.
He turned my direction. “What’s up?”
“I’ll, um... I’ll be back to pick up my order later.”
He tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “But your teas are almost ready. I just have to—"
“Something’s come up.” I turned, waving. “Gotta go. Thanks again.”
The bell above the door jingled.
Shit.
My blood ran cold as the familiar staccato of high heels echoed across the store. I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out my ball cap. Snugging it firmly on my head, I moved away from the counter. Luckily, there were a few others in the shop. I feigned casualness as I mingled into a group of older teenage girls—still a few years younger than me—admiring some love potions. They didn’t work, but these chittering girls didn’t know that. I moved in, almost uncomfortably close. With a slight tremble in my hands, I pulled something from the same shelf. I was sure everyone in the room could hear my heart beating.
“I’ve heard you are the best in the city.” The sharp edge of Mother’s voice made me shiver. I exhaled, keeping my breathing even.
It was remarkable, the amount of fear this woman inspired in me. In everyone, really.
“You honor me, Magnate,” I heard Jack reply, a nervous quake in his voice.
I shot a glance toward the door where two of my mother’s guard now waited. They wouldn’t recognize me, but I was still too nervous to chance it. I didn’t look like I usually did, since I wasn’t wearing my amulet, but I still looked like her. Enough so, that it might spark some notice or a closer look on their part. I can’t be noticed.
After pretending to scrutinize a label, I placed the tiny bottle back on the shelf. The girls teased one another about the potions, with no idea of the danger in the room. A flutter from above caught my eye as I looked up to spot an actual potion, sitting in a decanter on the top shelf. It resembled liquid mercury as it churned, with bubbles that rose and turned purple when they reached the air above the liquid and popped. Not one of the girls paid it any mind.
When it came to real magic, regular humans were oblivious. Even if a mage were to perform a spell right in front of them, their brains wouldn’t process it as magic. Instead, their mind would come up with some exceptional lie to explain it all away, sometimes even forgetting the entire episode altogether.
“Apothecary,” Mother addressed him. “I need to imbue an item with an illusion. You can do that, yes?” she asked, but it wasn’t a question.
It sounded like she was up to her usual tricks. I pitied the poor soul who would be her target this time, but I couldn’t think about that right now. I needed to be gone.
“It’s... a complicated process, and it’s not always perfect,” Jack answered.
“I’m aware.”
“If you’ll follow me, please, Magnate Victoria,” Jack said.
The sound of heels on tile marked the departure of my mother. I caught a glimpse as the door closed at her back, her lithe frame always the picture of cruel elegance—even from behind.
Time to blow this joint.
With my head tucked, I made my move, striding quickly toward the front door. Rounding a corner, I slid to an abrupt halt—stumbling backward as I bounced off a huge man’s chest. It could only be one guy—Alan, my mother’s head bodyguard.
I silently cursed, not daring to look up into his face. With his arms folded, I could see the tattoos decorating his knuckles, confirming his identity. I knew those knuckles.
Why couldn’t I have waited a few more seconds to make my escape?
“Sorry,” I mumbled, then attempted to keep moving.
Alan’s hand shot out, grabbing my upper arm—his grip like a vice. Blood pounded so loudly in my ears that I missed whatever he said to me, his gruff voice giving the impression of an angry canine.
“What?” I asked, finally looking up at him. The familiar features of his bald head and sinister glare brought with them a flood of bad memories.
He bent toward me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face.
“I said, where are you running off to?” he asked again.
I hesitated, stomach in my throat. He doesn’t recognize me...right?
“I’m late. For...an appointment,” I answered carefully, my heart still thundering.
He stared at me for a moment, bending even closer to peer into my eyes. He grunted and released me, flinging my arm away as he did so. “Go then.”
Don’t need to tell me twice.
A moment later, I was throwing open the door, passing the second guard without a backward glance. I held my breath—my heart still hammering away at my ribs until I turned the corner onto the next block.
Finally, out of view, I slid to a stop. I sagged against a brick wall and put my hands on my knees, taking in large gulps of air to calm my nerves.
Then, unable to stop myself, I laughed.
Well, that just happened.
“Hello, daughter,” my father’s stern voice carried across the large room where I sat, which happened to be the lounge on the twenty-third floor—one of many in my parent’s massive seventy-five story New York highrise. Father had his hands tucked into the pockets of his well-tailored slacks. Beneath my disguise, I had the same dark shade of hair and crystal blue eyes.
I looked around. There were few others in the room. He couldn’t possibly be talking to me, but I’m his only daughter—so, here we were.
“Hello, daddy dearest. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I reluctantly put down the book I was reading and narrowed my eyes at him. My father never fell for the overly sweet facade I typically portrayed for others of the court, so I dropped it. We had an unspoken understanding where he never ratted me out for pretending, and I avoided him at all costs.
Whatever he wanted, it wouldn’t be good.
“I don’t need to stress on you the importance of behaving when our allies arrive in a few days for trade negotiations,” he said.
“I agree. You do not,” I replied, folding my arms.
He nodded.
Why is he being so agreeable? I usually felt his disdain as if he’d dropped a bucket of it over my head.
“And Isla?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to keep your eyes open. Things are changing, and you need to be paying attention.”
After a brief pause, he spun on his heel and strode away.
“Well, that was utterly bizarre,” I mumbled to myself as I stared at the doorway. Was he warning me about something? It had to be a trap, surely. My father had never considered my wellbeing in his entire life. Quite the opposite, since he was usually present for my ‘reconditioning’, as my mother often called it.
“I thought you could use another,” the barman said, interrupting my thoughts and giving me a knowing look. He placed a tall glass with a napkin on the side table next to me. “It’s just a cherry coke. Let me know if you need something a little stronger.” He winked.
“Thanks, Frank,” I said, taking the drink and swirling it with the tiny black straw. It was a little early in the day for alcohol, but I was seriously considering it.
He nodded and walked back behind the bar.
I sighed.
Being Heir to a modern-day magical dynasty was a real bitch.
I had many regrets, most of which revolved around missing out on life experiences that many people my age took for granted.
I stood and moved from my perch on a chaise to sit at the bar.
“Did you know I turned twenty-one last week?” I asked Frank, resting my elbows on the bar.
He wouldn’t know that, because my mother made a point to ensure I wasn’t celebrated in any way. Birthdays were a big no-no. Just one of the many ways she exerted control over my life.
His eyes met mine. “You did?” Pausing for a moment, he held up a finger. “You know what? I’ve got just the thing. Don’t move.”
“Okay...?”
He disappeared into the back, returning a minute later with a chocolate cupcake on a small plate. He stuck a sparkly purple candle in the bright pink frosting. With a snap of his fingers, a whisper of warm magic tickled my skin and the candlelit with a tiny blue flame.
“Sorry it’s late. Happy Birthday, Miss Isla.” He smiled at me expectantly, resting his palms on the counter on either side of my cupcake.
A lump swelled in my throat. “This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me, Frank. Can I keep you? I’ll even call you dad.”
Frank glanced around nervously. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.”
I shrugged, then nodded.
After witnessing the spectacle created by my father, the room had primarily vacated. Only a few people were passing through—my own watchers waited for me in the hallway. But Frank was right; I couldn’t be sure that people weren’t listening. I quickly blew out the candle and sat it aside, hoping that word wouldn’t get back to Mother about this tiniest of celebrations.
For now, Mother kept me exactly where she wanted me, beneath her thumb. If I wanted to leave my rooms in this colossal downtown high rise, she required me to wear a magical artifact that altered my appearance—my face, my body, my hair—to a specific look that was completely different from my own. Only my immediate family knew what I truly looked like. Everybody else had no idea they weren’t looking at the real me.
I took a swig of my coke to wash down the emptiness I felt inside when I thought about my mother. It didn’t work. According to Mother, I was a ‘talentless, faceless nobody, with no real power, only brought into existence so that she could come into her Ruling Powers by producing an heir.’
I made a sour face.
Whatever Mother said was the law. Whatever Mother wanted, she got. But, one thing she never wanted was me. And boy, did she let me know it.
I slammed the drink on the bar with a little more enthusiasm than intended, earning me a reproving glance from Frank.
“Sorry,” I mouthed.
Fear was what drove her.
It took me a couple of decades to realize that. It was fear that I would one day be strong enough to challenge Mother’s rule and take away the control she so desperately needed. What she didn’t realize was that because of her actions, one day, I would.
And that was why I stuck around.
I glanced down at a magazine someone had left behind on a stool. The portrait of the president of the United States stared back at me. The woman was a mage, of course—appointed by my mother. It was incredible how the regular, non-magical folk, otherwise known as ‘norms’, thought their country borders meant something. The magical community knew the truth—magic reigned supreme. Easy to do when mages controlled all the wealth—a few particular mages, anyway.
I shuddered.
My parent’s iron-gripped rule covered about three-quarters of North America—a magical territory called Splendor. My mother Victoria—the Magnate—sat firmly at the helm. And with nothing more than average mage powers, my father, Randall, didn’t do much but cling to Mother’s side.
I licked my fingers and reached down, flipping open the magazine—more pictures of the rich and famous littered its pages. I spotted many that I knew personally. I scowled—several that I hated personally. Mages had embedded themselves in governments, entertainment, higher education, and every other industry imaginable. We ran it all.
I paused as I spotted an old photo of my mother with my grandparents behind her. Things used to be different back then, when my grandparents were still alive.
Thinking of them brought a familiar ache to my heart—something that always confused me. How do I miss something I never really had? My grandparents had died when I was a baby, leaving behind a legacy that I hoped to one day resume.
Glancing up at Frank, I asked quietly, “Do you remember what it was like when my grandparents were still here?”
Frank nodded and leaned in close. “Things were different. A lot more soldiers these days.”
I nodded back. My mother affectionately referred to those soldiers as her ‘Pride’. As in ‘her pride and joy’ or a ‘pride of lions’, I had never really been sure.
“It’s like she’s been preparing for a war—which makes no sense. Taramur has been our ally for centuries.” I whispered.
Frank tapped his nose and went back to wiping down the bar. Being a bartender, the man was unsurprisingly well-informed. The man heard things.
A flash of movement caught my eye. I spotted my little brother Linc as he passed by the lounge’s enormous doors, and gave him a subtle nod. He scratched the side of his cheek with his middle finger in a discreet, yet facetious, acknowledgment.
I smirked back at him as he carried on his way. I’d see him later.
Linc was my best friend, or more accurately, my only friend. For reasons unknown—other than not having been the Heir—he wasn’t really a target for our parent’s ire.
Looking at my watch, I slapped a twenty on the counter and stood.
“Later, Frank. Thanks for my cupcake. If nobody’s told you this lately, you are a real gem.” I winked.
Frank gave a dismissive hand gesture as he continued organizing some bottles on the shelves behind the bar. “Have a nice day, Miss Isla.”
I grabbed my things and began to make my way back up to my apartment. It was time to prepare for my next activity of the day—physical training, in secret. As I walked, I waved and nodded to other staff members I knew—making sure to avoid eye contact with my mother’s lackeys, especially the two tailing me.
“Morning, Edith. I’ve been meaning to ask, did your son get accepted into his mentorship?” I altered my course to keep pace with the Tower’s IT manager in the hallway.
“He sure did, Miss Isla.” She grinned. I wished she smiled more because she was beautiful when she smiled. She was older, probably around my parent’s age. It was a little hard to tell because we didn’t age the same way norms did. It was slower, the signs more subtle—with a tiny wrinkle here or a single grey hair there.
“I knew he would. That kid is so bright,” I added, nodding.
Edith beamed.
Outside of those in my building like Edith, the magical community knew my name but rarely saw me. There were very few images of ‘disguised me’ available to the public.
My notable absence made me a mystery that the magical media loved to discuss, which my mother hated and clearly didn’t think through when she tried to make me invisible and politically powerless. Instead, she’d made me forbidden and irresistible.
As such, I was mostly expected to remain in my quarters and could forget about ever leaving the tightly controlled building, lest the media get word of my comings and goings—although even that did little to stop them from talking about me almost constantly. I was a hot topic; what could I say.
I glanced over my shoulder at the two idiots assigned to follow me today and chuckled.
Well, they thought I didn’t leave the building. In reality, I’d been sneaking out almost daily—sometimes multiple times a day—for years, since I was a child.
“And how are you doing today, Miss Isla?” Edith asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“You know me, just keeping out of trouble.” I winked.
Things had been unusually quiet lately. I assumed my mother’s lack of focus on me was due to the upcoming trade talks with Taramur. Our two nations relied upon one another for magical resources. Without the trade, neither country would be able to use any magic—so it was in our best interests to keep one another happy.
Glancing up, I paused mid-step as I noticed two more of mother’s goons headed our way—Tara and Jesse, a couple of particularly menacing individuals that I’d rather avoid. Looked like it was time for the changing of my guard—guard as in ‘prison guard’, not as in ‘bodyguard’. I spun on my heel and strode away from them, toward the elevators.
“Great seeing you, Edith! Keep me updated on that boy of yours,” I said as I reached out and hit the elevator button approximately sixteen times.
“Will do. Have a wonderful day, Miss.”
The doors opened, and I quickly stepped inside, pressing the number for my floor and the ‘door close’ button simultaneously. Stepping back, I waved—feigning innocence—at the unamused pair as the doors slowly slid to a close just before they reached me.
I took a deep breath. Isla, one; goons, zero.