“I’m so happy for you,” I said. She had tiny roses tucked into her hair, and their scent surrounded me. The cherry trees had increased their petal production—through magic, no doubt—so that they rained down around us like confetti. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said, flushing under the praise.
To the surprise of both of us, I hugged Rurik too. “I’m even happy for you. Though I’m not entirely sure you deserve her,” I teased.
He nodded. “That makes two of us.”
“I wish you many years of joy and fertility,” said Dorian, with a genuine expression of pleasure on his face. He always wore a smirk of some sort, so these moments of pure, legitimate delight were rare.
“Are you guys going on any kind of honeymoon?” I asked, realizing it was something I probably should’ve found out long before this. So much emphasis had been put on preparing for the wedding and its security that I’d never really thought much past today. My question was met with three puzzled looks.
“Honeymoon, Your Majesty?” asked Shaya, clearly unfamiliar with the word.
I was surprised by their surprise. “Er, yeah. It’s like a trip ... a trip you take after you get married. You go away somewhere on a vacation, for a week or two.”
“To what end?” asked Dorian with a small, curious frown.
I shrugged. “Well. So you can get away and be alone and ... well ... you know ...”
Understanding flooded their faces. Shaya shook her head. “We’re in wartime, Your Majesty. We could hardly dream of doing anything so frivolous.”
Typical gentry. They had no problem getting hot and heavy in public, but the idea of a private, romantic getaway was “frivolous.”
“Besides,” added Rurik with a wink, “why do we need to leave? Plenty of places to do it around here. And in the Thorn Land.”
“Ugh,” I said, after they’d strolled away. “How in the world did he win her over?”
Dorian chuckled. “Well, I daresay he won you over too. You weren’t his biggest admirer when you met.”
“That’s for damned sure,” I said. “But there’s a difference between simply learning to get along with someone and vowing to spend the rest of your life with them.”
“The way I see it, you can’t have one without the other.”
“That makes no sense,” I countered.
“Love rarely does. It’s a magic beyond any in this world.” I rolled my eyes, and he extended his arm to me. “Shall we see what delights lie in store among the refreshments? Surely there’s something there that even human medicine will allow you to consume.”
The mood was too festive for me to give him a hard time, so I let him lead me across the grounds, which wasn’t easy. Everyone passing by had something to say to us, whether it was simple congratulations or outright declarations of fealty. We had to carry on our conversation in pieces.
“Have you found another human doctor you can see?” Dorian asked me. “In a new and secure location?”
“Not yet,” I said. His wording wasn’t lost on me. He’d phrased it as a given, rather than chiding me for what he thought was a foolish errand, as he had last time. I knew it was a great concession for him, and I was willing to give something back. “Honestly, I’m not sure I should. Everything’s been going so well ... with the pregnancy, that is. Like you were saying, whatever help a human doctor can give me might be undone by the dangers I’m risking by venturing out of my kingdoms.”
Dorian nodded thoughtfully, with no hint of an I-told-you-so attitude. “Well, you’ll choose what’s best, I’m sure. Perhaps Roland might be able to suggest something when he next visits.”
“Perhaps,” I agreed. My gaze drifted to the opposite side of the courtyard, and I felt a smile grow. “And I know Pagiel will go with me anywhere and defend my honor.”
Dorian followed where I was looking. Pagiel, bright and full of energy, was holding onto Jasmine’s hands and trying to coax her into a dance. Gentry musicians had appeared in a corner and struck up a tune that had many skipping food for dancing. She kept shaking her head, but even I recognized the coy look of someone playing hard-to-get. It was obvious she secretly enjoyed his attentions.
“It doesn’t bother you?” Dorian asked.
“Nah,” I said as we finally reached the food. “He’s a good kid, and at least he’s relatively close to her age. Besides, now that I’ve claimed the honor, I don’t have to worry about her getting pregnant first.” When I’d first met Jasmine, she’d been involved with a gentry king named Aeson and dead-set on fulfilling our father’s prophecy. She, like Rurik, was someone who’d undergone a change for the better.
I meant to ask Dorian about the Yew Land, but the opportunity never really presented itself. Aside from being distracted by those constantly coming up to talk to us, we were also just caught up in the festivities themselves. Both of my kingdoms, as well as Dorian’s, had been living in a tense state these last few months, and it was nice to have a break from that. I laughed and cheered with the others when Rurik brought Shaya out onto the dance floor and spun her around. I watched Jasmine and Pagiel flirt with youthful innocence. I even drank some sort of sweet nectar, which the chef had sworn to me wasn’t alcoholic. It was served in goblets constructed from tulips, reminding me not for the first time that my life really was a fairy tale—just not always a happy one.
Dorian admired the happy, dancing couples and then gave me a knowing look. “I suppose I’d be wasting my time asking you to dance?”
“You’d have more luck with one of the horses,” I said.
He chuckled. “You’re smaller than you think, and besides, you keep forgetting how beautiful fertility is to us—not like humans, who seem ashamed of it. You’ve spent too much time among them.”
“That’s an understatement,” I teased. “I’ve spent most of my life with them. I can’t help but think like a human.”
“I know,” he said with mock sadness. “It’s a habit I keep hoping you’ll shake.”
I refused Dorian’s further invitations to dance, but later, in watching him twirl around with other women, I realized the recent tension wasn’t just between our kingdoms. Whether it was my resentment over how he’d tricked me into winning the Iron Crown or simply disputes over how best to protect my twins, it seemed that Dorian and I had been bickering nonstop. It was nice to have just one evening where we were at peace with each other. I was reminded—almost—of how things used to be, back when we were a couple.
It was after midnight when I finally retired from the celebration. Enchanted fireflies had replaced the cherry petals, illuminating those revelers who were still going strong. I slipped away without any big good-byes because I’d learned a long time ago that once you started with one, many more would follow, and it’d be hours before I’d actually get to bed. So, really, only my guards noticed my exit, several of them detaching and following me inside the castle.
When I reached my rooms, I saw that some helpful servant had placed Ilania’s statues in there, maybe in case I wanted to decorate with them. Along with the unicorn statue I’d seen earlier, there was also one comprised of five fish balanced gracefully on top of each other. I would have that one sent off to the Thorn Land, since it seemed ironic for a desert kingdom. Tomorrow would be soon enough to put the other statue in storage here, as well as give me the chance to ask Dorian about the Yew Land since I was certain he was staying over tonight. I’d also have to make sure Varia got her token gifts. So much to do, but I was too exhausted to deal with any of it just yet.
Thinking of Dorian reminded me of a comment he’d made. Even though I was ready to fall over, I delayed a moment to summon Volusian to me. The room, which had moments ago been warm and cheery in the summer evening, grew cold and sinister. Volusian appeared in the darkest corner, his eyes glowing red.
“My mistress calls,” he said, in his flat tone.
I stifled a yawn and sat on the bed, suddenly feeling smothered by the long dress. “I need you to go to Roland whenever he’s up in the morning. Ask him to come see me here when he gets time. Emphasis on the ‘when he gets time,’” I warned. The last time I’d sent Volusian with a request to my stepfather, the spirit had simply said, “You must come now.” Roland had practically killed himself trying to get to the Otherworld, certain my death was imminent. With Volusian, one had to be specific.
“As my mistress commands,” he replied. “Is there anything else?”
“Nope. That’s—”
“
What
is that?”
I stared in astonishment, not so much because of the question itself, but because I could probably count on one hand the number of times Volusian had ever interrupted me. He tended to adhere to his servitude tenaciously (so long as my power was there to hold him) and rarely offered up anything that wasn’t asked of him. Equally rare was him soliciting information that wasn’t essential to his tasks. It was his way of showing how little he cared about me and my affairs.
“What’s what?” I asked, glancing around.
He pointed at the two statues. “Those,” he declared, “are damarian jade.”
I thought back to my conversation with Ilania. “Er, yeah, I think that’s what she called it.”
“She?” he demanded. “Who is
she
? And is she here?”
“The ambassador from the Yew Land,” I said, still kind of amazed by this conversation. “She’s here on behalf of her queen, Varia.”
“Varia,” he repeated. “She must be Ganene’s daughter.” There was something chilling about the way he said
Ganene
. The word dripped with venom.
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “They just brought me the statues and made an offer of friendship.”
“Yes, I’m sure they would,” he replied enigmatically. “They excel at that.”
I stood up. “Volusian, what do you know about them? Do you know how they’ve got all these subjugated kingdoms?”
“Subjugated kingdoms? No, but it seems like a reasonable idea, mistress. One you might consider.” Volusian had calmed back down to his dry self, if he’d ever truly been upset. It was hard to tell with him.
“Have you been there?” I asked. “To the Yew Land?”
“Not in many, many centuries, mistress.”
“But you have been there.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“What do you know about Varia?”
“I do not know her at all, mistress. As I said, I have not been in the Yew Land for many centuries. Much has undoubtedly changed in that wretched place.” His red eyes flicked toward the statues. “Except for their abhorrent taste in art. If my mistress has need, I would gladly destroy those monstrosities and blight their unsightliness from her gaze.”
“Very kind. Why do you hate the Yew Land so much?” Before he could answer, another question came to mind. “Volusian, are you
from
the Yew Land?”
He took a long time in responding. I think, had he been able, he wouldn’t have answered. The binds that held him were too strong, however.
“Yes, mistress.”
He offered no more. I could’ve grilled him further but thought better of it. Volusian was an old, old spirit. Maybe he was from the Yew Land, but by his own admission, he hadn’t been there in recent times, nor did he know Varia. My guess was whatever animosity he held toward that kingdom predated her and was probably of little use to me. What intrigued me, though, was that I had my first real piece of background about Volusian. I’d always known he had done something terrible that had resulted in him being cursed to wander the worlds without peace. I now had a good idea of where his troubles may have started.
“Is there anything else, mistress?” he asked when I remained quiet.
“Huh?” I’d been lost in my own thoughts. “Oh, no. That’s it for now.”
Volusian nodded in acquiescence, then began to fade into darkness. For a moment, only his red eyes seemed to remain, but then they too disappeared in the shadows.
Chapter 4
Life soon returned to whatever passed as normal in my world. The many guests and visitors who’d arrived for the wedding dispersed to their own lands, and true to their word, Shaya and Rurik continued their duties just as before. There was little outward sign that much had changed with them, though occasionally I’d catch them secretly exchanging happy looks.
One guest who didn’t leave right away was Dorian. He kept saying he would. He’d even make comments that began with, “Well, when I leave tomorrow ...” But the next day he’d still be hanging around the Rowan Land. Almost a week went by before I finally brought the matter up.
I found him out in some of the woods beyond the castle. While this was still fairly secured land, I was nonetheless trailed by quiet, discreet guards who kept a distance that was respectful but still close enough to pounce, should the need arise. Dorian was engaged in a typically Dorian activity: hunting. Well, kind of. The forest clearing was littered with thin, wooden cutouts of various animals. They were life-size and painted in bright, gaudy colors. As I approached, I saw Dorian’s long-suffering servant, Muran, nervously holding up a cutout of a pink stag. On the opposite side of the clearing, Dorian focused on them with razor-sharp intensity and drew back a giant longbow. There was a
twang
as he released, and the arrow shot forward, implanting right near the edge of the target’s upper body, only a couple of inches from Muran’s hand.
“Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” I asked.
“Hardly,” said Dorian, notching another arrow. “Those animals aren’t real, Eugenie.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “The purple polka dots were kind of a giveaway. I was talking about Muran.”
Dorian shrugged. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?” He drew back again, and this time the arrow hit the side of the stag’s head, not far from Muran’s own. The poor man yelped at the close call, and Dorian gave me an expectant look. “See?”
I had to suppress an eye roll. Those targets were too big and Dorian too good a shot for him to be “accidentally” making such close calls. It was a testament to his skill that he was purposely hitting so near the edges to torment Muran.
“Let’s do the rabbit next,” suggested Dorian. “I need more of a challenge.”
“Y-yes, sire,” squeaked Muran. He returned the stag to the pile of other targets and produced a yellow and green striped rabbit that was much, much smaller than the stag. After first pausing to wipe sweat off of his forehead, Muran held out the rabbit off to his side, as far away from himself as he could.
Dorian tsked. “You’re tilting it. Use both hands to keep it steady.” Doing so, of course, forced Muran to bring the target directly in front of him.
I groaned. “Dorian, why do you do this?”
“Because I can,” he replied. He let loose an arrow and impressively hit one of the rabbit’s ears, again only just missing Muran.
“When do you think you might be able to go home?” I asked.
He didn’t even look at me as he sized up his next shot. “Are you kicking me out?”
“No, but I do have to go to the Thorn Land soon and commune with it.” As part of the bond between monarch and kingdom, it was necessary that I connect to the land periodically. This usually just involved me meditating for a while and reaching out to the land’s energy. It was a seemingly small task, but if I didn’t do it regularly, both the land and I would suffer. The longest I’d gone without was about a month, and during that time, I’d dreamed nonstop about the land. Possessing two kingdoms now meant twice as many meditation sessions.
“I’m surprised you don’t just send your sister,” Dorian said. “Seeing as she’s getting so good at it.”
“Oh, don’t start,” I said.
I was in a good mood, and the atmosphere between us had been so easy recently that I didn’t even rise to the bait. Jasmine and I had discovered that as a quick fix, she could do a type of makeshift connection with the land. Someone had told me that monarchs’ children occasionally did this as well in other kingdoms, so maybe the land just recognized some sort of genetic connection. Dorian feared I was opening up the door for Jasmine to conquer my kingdoms, but I was confident she’d long since given up such ambitions. Besides, I’d felt the connection between her and the land when she did it, and it was nothing like what I experienced. The land accepted her as a Band-Aid in my absence but never truly let her into its heart like it did for me. The land was always grateful for my return, and I too pined for it when gone.
“You know it’s better if I do it myself,” I told him. “And if I’m right around the corner, there’s no reason not to. I mean, you’re welcome to stay here if you want, I just thought ...”
“... that if you were leaving, there’d be no reason I’d
want
to stay?” he suggested.
I shrugged. That was
exactly
what I’d been thinking, and I now felt a little embarrassed at my presumption. For all I knew, Dorian just liked the change of scenery. I’d given him no reason to want to spend extra time with me.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said, hitting the rabbit’s tail. “Perhaps I should return home. It’ll be harvest time soon.”
That brought a smile to my face. “It’s
always
harvest time.” One of the perks of the Oak Land’s perpetual autumn was that trees and plants that normally only bore fruit late in the year were always producing. I’d seen servants pick all the apples from the trees surrounding his castle, only to find those same trees heavy with fruit again in a couple of days.
“Yes, yes, but my people fall apart without me. You’d think they would’ve learned to manage after all this time, but it’s still quite dreadful.” He finally lowered his bow and glanced at me. “You want to take a shot?”
I shook my head. “That bow’s too big for me. Besides, I don’t really get off on shooting animals—even fake ones.”
“That’s preposterous. You eat them, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between killing them for survival and killing them for sport. I know, I know,” I added, seeing him start to protest. “These aren’t real, but the resemblance is close enough that when I look at them, it’s still like taking joy in real animals’ deaths.”
Dorian looked over to where one of his personal guards stood ready and alert. “Alik, would you remedy this situation? Use the stag, please.”
Alik bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He strode over to the pink stag and, to my complete astonishment, began hacking away at the stag’s neck with his sword. It had the effectiveness of an ax, making me think there must be some magic afoot. That’d be a difficult task with a regular sword, let alone the copper kind favored by the gentry. When Alik completed his work, we were left with a decapitated wooden pink stag.
“There we go,” said Dorian, pleased. “It hardly looks real now. Is that better?”
“I don’t really know how to answer that,” I replied.
Dorian beckoned me over. “Come, I’ll help you draw the bow. It’s a noble weapon that any good queen should know how to use, regardless of intent.”
To my own surprise, I complied, letting him guide my hands to hold the bow in proper position. I’d practiced with smaller bows around here—it was unavoidable in the Otherworld—but nothing resembling this beast. Dorian stood behind me, one hand on my hip and the other on my arm to keep me in the right position.
“Muran,” he said. “Prop our headless deer friend against that maple, will you? Then keep an eye on it from over there to make sure it stays upright.”
If Muran ever had any fears about his master’s regard for him, they were wasted. As I’d suspected before, Dorian’s skill was such that his “close calls” with Muran had never truly been any threat. But me and my lack of expertise? We were a different matter—and a dangerous one that could result in Muran actually losing a limb if he held the target again. Dorian was now ensuring his servant stayed out of harm’s way.
With Dorian’s guidance, I drew back the bow. No, not guidance, exactly. Dorian was actually doing a lot of the work. This would have been a tough draw for me under the best of times, and my recent reduction in physical activity had only made me weaker. I let the arrow go, and it hit the ground before even getting close to the target. My second shot didn’t do much better. By the third, my arm felt like it was ready to fall off, and I was just getting frustrated.
“Patience, my sweet,” Dorian told me. “This is just something that takes practice.”
“All the practice in the world won’t help,” I grumbled, feeling petulant. “Not so long as I’m incapacitated.”
Dorian snorted. “You? Hardly. Now, that deer, yes, he’s incapacitated. But I recall seeing you dispatch some wraiths a couple weeks ago. Anyone who witnessed that, including those miserable creatures, would hardly say you were incapacitated.”
“I
was
kind of badass,” I admitted, lowering the bow. “I just don’t have much patience for this ... state I’m in.” Apparently, “state” would continue to be the best way to describe my pregnancy.
“That ‘state’ will be over before you know it.” Dorian took the bow from me and passed it off to a servant. “And until then, you’re much more capable of things than you give yourself credit for. Once your little world-conquering bundles of joy are born, we’ll train you up to be the best bow-woman in this world.”
His bravado made me smile again, and I felt a little silly for my whining. Hopefully, it was just more I could blame on hormones. Inspiration hit me, and I straightened up proudly. “I don’t need lessons. I’m already the best shot in this world. And in the others.”
Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I glanced over at my fallen arrows and summoned the air currents around them. The air was quick to obey me and lifted the arrows off the ground. One quick motion, and they shot off toward the stag like rockets, embedding themselves in what would have been the poor creature’s heart.
“Magnificent,” laughed Dorian, clapping his hands. “You really are a natural.”
I returned his grin, delighted with my triumph and with ... well, this. This small moment out in the sunny spring day. This small moment ... with him. I met his eyes, momentarily caught up in the shades of green that played throughout them, rivaling the leaves that gently rustled around us.
“Eugenie?”
Whatever else might have passed in that moment was lost as I turned and saw Roland Markham approaching with a group of Rowan soldiers. Dorian was forgotten as I hurried over and hugged my stepfather.
“Your Majesty,” said one of the soldiers. “Roland Storm Slayer is here.”
“So I see,” I said. If there was anyone the gentry regarded with as much awe as the mother of Storm King’s heir, it was Roland. He had rescued my mother when she’d been abducted to the Otherworld. Later, when Storm King came seeking her and me, Roland had finally put an end to my biological father once and for all. Killing the Otherworld’s most powerful, notorious warlord in recent history earned a lot of respect—and wariness. Roland was oblivious to it all, however. In truth, he disliked coming to the Otherworld and had vowed never to return after rescuing my mother. It was only because of me and the dangers I now faced crossing worlds that he had consented to come back. He was incredibly uneasy each time he did, though, and his own nerves distracted him too much to see the nervousness in others here.
“You look good,” Roland said, giving me a head-to-toe assessment. He would never let on to it in front of everyone else, but I knew he was checking me for scrapes and bruises the same as he would if I was ten years old. Whenever he was in the Otherworld, he also had a tendency to ignore everyone else and only talk to me.
“So do you,” I said. Roland had gone gray but was still lean and muscled, ready for anything that came his way. Tattoos of whorls and fishes adorned his arms, and I took comfort in their familiarity.
“Your, uh, creature said you wanted to talk to me?”
“I do.” Glancing around, I saw that between my soldiers, Dorian’s guards, and Roland’s escort, we’d gathered quite a crowd. Dorian followed my gaze and guessed my thoughts.
“Perhaps we should go inside where we can speak more privately,” he said, automatically inviting himself along. A glint of surprise flashed in Roland’s eyes, but there was no real reason Dorian couldn’t hear what was being discussed.
“I went to your other place first,” Roland told me as we walked toward the castle. “The guards there explained where you were at and brought me here.” I couldn’t help a smile at his use of “your other place.” The idea of me being a queen was still unsettling for Roland, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to say “your kingdom.”
“Then you’re fortunate,” said Dorian. “This is a much more pleasant land to meet in than that desert wasteland Eugenie usually prefers to spend her time in.”
Roland glanced around, taking in the lush greenery, warm breezes, and singing birds. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think I like the other one better. This one’s kind of boring.”
“Typical,” scoffed Dorian. “Like father, like daughter.”
Roland wouldn’t admit as much in mixed company, but I knew the comment pleased him. If things hadn’t turned out as they had with my Otherworldly involvement, Roland would’ve been content to ignore my biological heritage for the rest of my life. Blood and the Storm King prophecy meant nothing to him. I had been Roland’s daughter for years, and as far as he was concerned, that’s how it still was.