Shadow Heir

“I came to talk to you, of course.” He stayed where he was, and I took a chair near the bed’s side. “You didn’t really think I would accept your cursory explanation about where you’ve been all this time?”

“You know where I’ve been. And why I was there.”

He managed a half shrug. “Yes, yes. But what about your children? Aren’t you going to tell me more about them? I’d hoped Shaya would do the womanly thing and interrogate you in detail, but she let me down. And of course I couldn’t quiz you on such things in front of the others.”

“Of course,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your harsh, manly reputation.”

“It would take a lot more than talking about infants to do that, my dear.”

I stretched out my legs, surprised at the small aches in them. “Okay. What do you want to know? I’m not going to tell you where they are.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned his thoughtful gaze back up. “I don’t know. Tell me the essentials. What are they like? What are their names? Are they really in good health after being born so early?”

“Their names are Isaac and Ivy,” I began.

“Isaac?” he repeated.

“It’s a nice name. A human name.”

“I’m aware. But it’s not the name I’d give to a conqueror of worlds,” explained Dorian. He considered. “I would’ve gone with Thundro or Ragnor. I might just call him Thundro anyway.”

“That’s ridiculous, and you know it. Their names are Isaac and Ivy. And my son’s not going to be a conqueror of worlds.”

“So you say. Now go on.”

I thought back to his questions and felt my stomach turn queasy as the twins’ faces flashed to my mind. “They’re like ... well, they look like me. So far. No trace of ... him. Other than that, it’s hard to guess too much what they’ll be like. And they’re small, of course. Smaller than what’s ideal. But everything’s there—there and perfect. Plus, they’re growing more and more each day. Pretty soon they’ll be able to go home.” I didn’t elaborate on what “home” meant—partially because I wasn’t even certain—but did go on to explain what had happened in the NICU. Dorian bore the usual gentry look of surprise and confusion at the technical lingo, but when I was finished, he actually seemed impressed.

“Well, then, it sounds like it’s a blessing they were somewhere that could help them get through all of this,” he said. “But tell me, how are you handling all of it?”

I stifled a yawn. “Not looking forward to a long journey in the snow. Also not excited that we don’t know exactly where we’re going, but compared to the alternative, I guess it’s—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, sitting up so that he could meet my gaze. “Not this Yew Land nonsense. I’m talking about being away from Ivy and Thundro. How are you coping with that? It can’t be easy, being apart when they’re both so fragile.”

My answer was a long time in coming. Aside from Roland—who had actually seen how difficult my parting from the twins was—no one had asked much, so far, about how I felt about having to leave them. Everyone had wanted to know about their births and that Isaac and Ivy were safe and accounted for, but my feelings on the matter had never been brought up. I was Eugenie, Queen of Rowan and Thorn, Storm King’s daughter. It was expected that I would slip easily into this new adventure and do my duty.

“It’s terrible,” I said at last, unable to look into his eyes. I hated when he turned all serious. “I didn’t want to come back, even when Roland told me how bad things were. Leaving their bedside was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’m wracked with guilt over every option. I hate myself for leaving them and would’ve hated myself for abandoning all of you. I feel split between worlds.”

Dorian swung his legs over to the side of the bed. “You’ve felt that way since the moment I met you.”

I thought about it. “I suppose so.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll help you settle this blight problem so that you can get back to them soon.” He stood up and caught one of my hands in his. “I promise.” His lips brushed the top of my hand, and then he released it. I stared dumbfounded as he walked to the door. Before he left, he glanced back at me. “Oh, and for what it’s worth? I’m sorry you had to come back under these circumstances, but I am glad to see you again.”

“Thanks,” I said stupidly, unable to formulate anything more eloquent. I wished I could say a hundred other things, like that I appreciated his compassion now and how he’d tried to help me before I left. I wanted to tell him I was sorry for not confiding in him before ... but the words stuck on my lips.

He left me, and I was amazed. No snark, no innuendoes. Just honesty and sincerity. He’d seen my pain and offered his comfort. I wasn’t so sure cleaning up this “nonsense” would be as easy as he’d made it out to be, but the sentiment still meant a lot to me. This wasn’t the Dorian I’d left two months ago.

Despite how awestruck his behavior had left me, I couldn’t ponder it much longer. We had a big day tomorrow, and my body was exhausted. I had enough presence of mind to strip off my outerwear and then slide into the heavily layered bed. Just before I fell asleep, I thought I caught the lingering scent of apples and cinnamon from where he’d been lying.

Dorian was back to his usual bantering self the next morning. It wasn’t biting or sarcastic, though, and I could tell he was actually trying to boost everyone’s spirits with his jokes and quips. Although tense, everyone in our party actually seemed excited about our venture. I think they’d been inactive for too long and were grateful just to be doing something to try to rectify this problem.

Along with Dorian, Jasmine, Pagiel, and Rurik, I also had two of my own guards and one of Dorian’s. All three were strong fighters, and Dorian’s man—Alistir—was also a healer. Shaya came out to see us off, and from the way she and Rurik had to be pried apart, it was obvious they’d long since made up their differences from yesterday.

We set out on horseback into another icy, blustery day. Jasmine, Pagiel, and I all wanted to use our magic to facilitate our journey, but Dorian cautioned against it so early on. “The road will be manageable. The horses are strong right now, and so are we. Don’t start expending yourselves quite so soon—especially since we don’t know if there’s worse weather to come.”

The path did indeed grow a little easier once we reached one of the main roads, so I heeded his advice. From what they’d told me, the blight could occasionally whip up into ravaging blizzards. That was when we’d likely need magical assistance.

We’d been on the road for about half a day, still maintaining our good mood, when the land shifted over to the Cedar Land. Its king was one of my allies, though I’d rarely spent time here. The snowy landscape looked the same as the others, which is why I didn’t really notice when someone stepped onto the road until he was directly in front of us.

I recognized him immediately. I yelled Volusian’s summoning words as I climbed off my horse. By the time my feet touched the ground, I had my gun and silver athame out. Striding forward, I drew the air’s power around me. It built up, tense and strong, waiting only for my command to be released. I heard swords drawn behind me but paid them no heed as I came to a halt before the newcomer.

It was Kiyo.

The last time I’d seen him, he’d been trying to kill me. He looked exactly the same, with his tanned skin and chin-length dark hair. A North Face coat covered his well-muscled body. He regarded me levelly and didn’t flinch, not even when I put the blade to his throat.

“You have no idea what you’ve just walked into,” I said, in a voice that rivaled the cold surrounding us.

The guards were in position around me now, but it was Dorian who spoke up. “My dear, you might not want to skewer him quite yet.”

“Why not?” I asked, never taking my eyes off of Kiyo.

Dorian’s voice was light and easy. “Because I asked him to join us.”

Chapter 14

It took a lot of self-control not to turn around and see if Dorian was joking. My memories of past experiences with Kiyo—like when he’d tried to kill me—were strong enough to make me keep my gaze fixed on him.

For his part, Kiyo remained calm and unmoving, though I didn’t doubt his excellent reflexes would take over in an instant if I attacked. His dark eyes lifted from my face and glanced at something behind me, presumably Dorian.

“Dorian,” I demanded, “what are you talking about?”

I heard the sound of feet hitting the ground, and a moment later, Dorian made his way to Kiyo’s side. “Exactly what I said. I’ve told you a number of times that this blight is a concern for all kingdoms affected. As such, Maiwenn wanted to help.”

“We don’t need her help,” I growled. “We can take care of this ourselves.”

Dorian tugged his cloak closer. It was violet, with ermine trim. Apparently even dangerous conditions required kingly style. “Maybe. Maybe not. I told Maiwenn she could contribute something, and she suggested the kitsune here since his fox form will make an excellent scout. It seemed reasonable to put differences aside and make a truce for the greater good.”

It was really hard to know where to start with that. Admittedly, there was some merit to using Kiyo as a scout. He was half kitsune, the son of a Japanese fox nymph. As such, he could shape-shift into a fox at will and would have speed and cold-resistance superior to the rest of us. Useful plan or not, I nonetheless had a few hang-ups about it.

“‘Put differences aside?’” I exclaimed. “He tried to kill me! Why does everyone seem to forget that all of a sudden?”

“No one’s forgotten that,” said Dorian. There was a glint of steel in his eyes, despite his lazy tone. It gave me hope that he hadn’t completely lost his mind. “Although, technically he was trying to kill your children. Since they’re not here, you can now rest in relative safety.”