Secret Heir (Dynasty #1)(7)
“You don’t believe me,” Magnus says flatly.
“No shit. Did you hear the crazy shit that just came out of your mouth? A world called Eden in another realm? Another race—the Seraph or whatever they’re called that can influence nature? It sounds insane.”
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.