“I thought you could use another,” the barman said, interrupting my thoughts and giving me a knowing look. He placed a tall glass on a napkin before 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.
An audible sigh left my lips.
Being Heir to a modern-day magical dynasty is a real bitch.
“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 candle lit 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 ever, Frank. It’s more than I got from my own parents. They aren’t really the gift-giving type. Or the parenting type, for that matter.”
Frank glanced around, nervously. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.”
My shoulders lifted in a shrug before I nodded.
After witnessing the spectacle created by my father, the room had vacated. Only a few people were passing through. A glance their way confirmed my own watchers waited for me in the hallway. But Frank was right—I couldn’t be sure people weren’t listening.
Quickly blowing out the candle, I set it aside. Hopefully, Mother wouldn’t hear 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 tower, 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.
Taking a swig of my Coke, I tried to wash down the emptiness I felt inside whenever I thought about Mother. It didn’t work. According to her, 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.
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.
Slamming the glass onto the bar with a little more enthusiasm than intended earned 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 her 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.
Glancing down, my eyes lit on a magazine someone had left behind on a stool. A portrait of the president of the United States stared back at me. The woman was a mage, of course, and appointed by my mother.
My parents’ 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 didn’t do much but cling to Mother’s side.
Licking my finger, I reached down and flipped open the magazine. More pictures of the rich and famous littered its pages. I spotted many that I knew personally—my brow scrunched—and several that I hated personally.
Mages had embedded themselves in governments, entertainment, higher education, and every other industry imaginable. We ran it all.
My fingers paused, hovering over 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? They’d 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.”
My mother affectionately referred to those soldiers as her ‘Pride’. As in her ‘pride and joy’ or a ‘pride of lions’, I’d 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 attention. My eyes lit on my little brother Linc as he passed by the lounge’s enormous doors, and I gave him a subtle nod. He scratched the side of his cheek with his middle finger in a discreet, yet facetious, acknowledgment.
A smirk lifted my lips 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 parents’ ire.
Checking 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.”
Frank gave a dismissive hand gesture as he continued organizing some bottles on the shelves behind the bar. “Have a nice day, Miss Isla.”
Grabbing my things, I 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. Just thinking about it brought a smile to my face.
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. She was older, probably around my parents’ 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—a tiny wrinkle here or a single gray 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 general public.
My notable absence made me a mystery that the magical media loved to discuss, which my mother hated and clearly hadn’t thought through when she tried to make me invisible and politically powerless. Instead, she’d made me forbidden and irresistible.