Shadow Heir

Chapter 9

Despite our conclusions that I probably hadn’t raised any notice in the Otherworld, I still spent the next week on pins and needles. I jumped at shadows, expecting gentry assassins to come bursting through my window at any moment. Candace played it cool and casual as usual, but I noticed she too was more watchful than before. One evening, a friend of hers came by, a wizened woman with an accent so thick I could barely understand her. Candace claimed the friend was visiting for tea, but later, I noticed them walking around the yard. I never asked Candace about it, but I suspected her friend was a witch who had laid some protective wards for us.

My worries continued to be unfounded, and that slow, easy life resumed. Even doing customer service for Candace became more comfortable, and I simply learned to take the silliness in stride. Probably the part of my life that continued to bother me most was my longing for my kingdoms. I would often wake up in the middle of the night with a burning in my chest and tears in my eyes. I’d remember the clean, crisp perfume of the deserts of the Thorn Land or the soft, rolling hills of the Rowan Land. Most of the need was still on my own side, but every once in a while, I’d sense a faint whisper, as though the lands were starting to miss me too.

To my surprise, I also found myself missing Dorian. After finding out I was pregnant, I’d seen him almost every week in the Otherworld. Not having his sarcasm and wit around anymore seemed weird, leaving an empty spot within me. Weirder still was that, aside from that last idyllic week, he and I hadn’t really spent much tender or recreational time together. It had always been business, making plans for our kingdoms and figuring out how best to thwart Maiwenn and Kiyo. Nonetheless, I’d simply gotten used to having him around. No matter our personal differences, we worked well as a team.

Occasionally, more troubling thoughts about him would plague me. Lying in bed at night, sweating from the Alabama heat, I’d find myself sifting back farther in my memories, to the time when he and I had been involved. I was rapidly reaching a point in my pregnancy where sex sounded like the least appealing thing ever. But in my memories, it was still easy. There had been a lot of nights in the Thorn Land, when Dorian had been with me and we’d lain in bed in similar kinds of heat, sweaty and restless. Even in those conditions, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off of each other. His skin had felt like fire against mine as he moved in me, his mouth equally hot wherever it touched me. The heat around us had seemed inconsequential to that between us.

Recalling that night did more than just torment my body. It tormented my mind. I still hadn’t gotten over the way he and I had parted. Dorian still cares about me. Dorian maybe even loves me.

How did I feel about that? How did I feel about him?

Although the weather in Huntsville remained hot, summer was winding down, and with its end, Evan would be returning to school. He began spending more time with me, still in that polite, hands-off way. Sometimes I’d catch him looking at me in a manner that made me nervous, and I feared some outpouring of affection. It never came, showing he was just as patient and content as he’d claimed to be. He further proved the point while we were out fishing one day.

I’d never been fishing before. It wasn’t something you really did a lot of in Tucson. We were out on a small, quiet lake ringed in willows, in a no-frills motorboat that had just enough room for us, our catch, and a cooler stocked with Coke, juice, and Milky Ways. Evan was very critical about everything we caught, and it was important to him that we caught no more than we could eat. Anything else was a waste, he declared.

“Uncle Chuck makes a mean batter for these,” Evan told me. “We can have a fish fry tonight.”

That sounded great to me then and there. I was starving, but then, I always seemed to be lately. My appetite had shot up out of nowhere these last couple weeks, much to Candace’s delight. While I certainly didn’t try to halt my eating, every extra bite was a reminder that I was going to get bigger and bigger. As it was, my weight had shot up exponentially too. It was still mostly confined to my stomach, but every day, I felt a little slower and a little more uncomfortable.

I finished off a Milky Way to curb my hunger, fully knowing no obstetrician would endorse it as sound nutrition. I chased it with a thermos of cider, giving me a brief flashback to the Oak Land harvest parties. Those bonfires and crisp nights, paired with Dorian’s smile, seemed like a lifetime away.

“I think there are some rules about pregnancy and fish,” I told Evan, returning to the present. “It’s probably in one of the pamphlets the doctors gave me.”

“Ah, that’d be a shame,” Evan said, casting his line out. A breeze off the water eased some of the heat and ruffled his hair. “If you can’t have any now, we’ll make sure you have a double helping after the babies come. If you’re still here, that is. Have you thought much about it?”

I watched my own bobber drift lazily in the water. As far as I could tell, I was doing exactly what he was with technique, but he kept catching more fish. “Honestly, no. Mostly I’m just trying to get through the pregnancy, but I’ll have to figure out the rest soon enough.” I sighed. “Do you think I should stick around?” It was a foolish question, I realized, seeing as he didn’t have nearly enough background to understand the consequences of that decision.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I like having you here, but in the end you have to do what you want and what you think is best.”

I almost laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”

“What’s that? To do what you want?” His bobber disappeared in the water, and he gave the line an experimental tug, revealing he’d indeed hooked another fish. Damn. How’d he keep doing that?

“Yup,” I said. “I’ve had a lot of well-meaning people in my life, but most haven’t been shy about telling me what they think I should do.”

Evan reeled the fish in and deemed its size adequate. “People will always do that—and you said the magic words. Well-meaning. Most have good intentions for you at heart, but only you can make the final call.”

I thought back to the last time I’d seen Kiyo, when he’d been trying to kill me in an effort to stop our children from being born. That didn’t really qualify as “good intentions.” Dorian’s heavy-handed protection of me had looked out for my well-being, but it had been tainted with his own ambition. If push came to shove, I still wasn’t sure if he’d side with me or the prophecy. And yet, even as I thought that, I remembered our last meeting, when Dorian had admitted to having no ulterior motives, save to make me happy and rebuild our trust. It was hard to know what to believe anymore.

Evan assessed our tally for the day and decided we had enough fish. “Don’t want to be greedy,” he said with a wink. “Need the fish to keep making more fish. Now we’ll find out if you’re allowed to have the best fried fish in the state.”

A little Internet searching back at the house provided info on fish types and local waters that declared I could eat small quantities. Fortunately, the Reeds made an abundance of side dishes and desserts that ensured what I lacked in fish, I could definitely make up for. I went to bed happy and full, still turning over Evan’s words about doing what I thought was best. Such a novel concept.

The next day, I was left alone for most of the afternoon while everyone else tended to their own affairs. E-mail and calls were few, though Candace assured me we’d see a surge when summer truly ended and people spent more time inside. So, it was another reading day for me, and I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could on my bed, something else that was becoming more difficult with my size. No breeze came in to cool the afternoon heat, and I mostly found myself growing sleepy.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped sharply in the room, raising goose bumps on my skin. I’d been nodding off but instantly opened my eyes, wide awake. There was nothing natural about this. Shit, I thought, sitting up. Here it was, the attack we’d been dreading. And I was weaponless because I wasn’t supposed to be practicing any magic. Well, I didn’t need tools to use my gentry magic. If they were bringing the fight to me, then there was no need to remain covert—

“Volusian?” I asked in disbelief. Red eyes and a small black body materialized in the room’s darkest corner, which really wasn’t all that dark this time of day. He glared at the sunlit window in irritation. I’d been a heartbeat away from summoning a storm in the room and immediately stopped myself.

“Mistress,” he said in his flat tone.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “I commanded you not to come!”

I also hadn’t told him where I was, but that made no difference. With his bonds of service, Volusian would always be able to locate me. Still, I figured not giving him any concrete information beforehand would be useful, in the event someone attempted to wrestle control of him from me. Likewise, I’d commanded him to avoid the Otherworld altogether, in the hopes of keeping him off the radars of those who might try to use him.

“Yes, mistress,” he agreed. “And were it up to me, I assure you, I would stay out of your presence for as long as possible, unless I was coming to end your life and rip you limb from limb.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful,” I said. “And yet, here you are.”

“Others forced me to, mistress.”

I’d nearly relaxed, but this set me on high alert again. Sending my mind out, I tested the magical bonds that kept him under my control, half expecting them to have vanished. But no, we were still solidly connected.

“Rest assured, mistress, I am still enslaved to you,” he said, guessing what I’d done.

“Then how the hell did others force you to come here?”

“With enough magic, it is possible to compel me to obey small commands while still bound to you,” he explained.

“That would take a lot of magic,” I said. Commanding Volusian full-time was difficult enough. Overriding that bond—even for a small order—was equally difficult. “I can’t think of any one gentry who could pull that off.”

“One gentry didn’t,” said Volusian. “King Dorian and Queen Maiwenn worked together to force me to come to you.”

I had to replay his words a few times before I finally believed them. “Dorian and Maiwenn? Worked together? They’d never do that. You must be confused.”

Volusian’s eyes narrowed. “Do I look as though I get easily confused, mistress?”

“No ... but ... it doesn’t make any sense... .”

Oh, sure. Dorian and Maiwenn were both extremely powerful, and I didn’t doubt that together, they could send Volusian to me. I also knew they each had valid reasons for it. Dorian had never approved of me running off here, and Maiwenn ... well, she wanted to kill me. Yet, those reasons didn’t exactly mesh with each other enough to explain why those two would unite.

“What exactly did they command you to do?”

“To come to you, mistress, and tell you they have a message for you. They also told me the message—”

“Did they command you to actually tell me the exact message?” I demanded.

“No, but—”

“Then don’t,” I said, relieved I wouldn’t have to magically counteract them. “That’s an order.”

Volusian’s face remained typically expressionless. “My mistress is not curious?”

“No,” I lied. I was terribly curious. But, I also didn’t want to be swayed by anything those two had to say. I didn’t want to hear Dorian’s pleas about me coming back, no matter how well-intentioned he might be—partially because I was afraid I might want to give in. I also didn’t want to find out what Maiwenn’s role was in this. If she’d convinced Dorian to work with her, then maybe she had some song to sing about how she’d seen the errors of her ways and no longer had a hit out on me. I certainly didn’t believe that, and honestly, I had a difficult time imagining him buying it either.

Some worried part of me wondered if maybe it wasn’t about me and the prophecy after all. What if something had happened to Jasmine? In that case, Dorian would have found a way to tell Roland, and I had to believe my stepfather would’ve gotten that news to me. I supposed the other possibility was that something was wrong with my lands. Maybe they were suffering from my absence more than I’d realized. Yet, when I touched those threads that connected us—even across worlds—I felt nothing particularly concerning. I was still joined to my kingdoms and had sensed none of the desperate longing from them that I had in the past when I’d left them with no caretaker. Honestly, I sensed no emotion at all from the lands. If anything, the connection felt kind of numbed, probably from my absence. Still, it was there, and it was steady.

“No,” I repeated. “I can’t. I can’t hear what they have to say. I’ve got a good thing going here. This is the right place for me to be, and I can’t let anything ruin it right now.”

“As my mistress wishes,” Volusian replied. “Do you have any further commands for me then?”

“Just the same ones as before. Avoid the Otherworld. Don’t come here again. Unless ...” Inspiration hit. “If they try to summon you, come here immediately if you’re able.” I didn’t know if Dorian and Maiwenn would attempt the feat again, but it would require a complicated set of spells. If Volusian could get to me first, I could probably strengthen our bond to prevent others’ influence. “Come to me if anyone attempts to summon or compel you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Then go.”

Volusian vanished, and the room instantly returned to its previous temperature. Still, I couldn’t help a small shiver. Dorian and Maiwenn hadn’t found me, not exactly, but they’d come much closer to it than I would’ve liked. I knew sending Volusian away was the smart thing to do, but again, the question nagged at me: Why would those two work together? In some ways, that bothered me as much as Volusian’s visit. Time and distance had made me start to miss Dorian, and some of the old fondness was starting to return. The thought of him playing some game with Maiwenn made all of my kindly feelings start to crumble. What was he up to?

No matter how hard I tried to push it aside, it was yet another thing to keep me up at night. That, the fear of a gentry attack, and my own pining for my Otherworldly lands continued to wake me up sporadically. I spent my days exhausted, having to nap a lot in the afternoon to make up for what I missed when the rest of the world was sleeping. One night, about a week after Volusian’s visit, something else startled me out of sleep, though I couldn’t readily figure out what it was.

I lay there in the dark, panicked, stretching my senses to see what had made me wake up. There was nothing magical around, nothing out of the ordinary. I stayed awake for some time, listening and waiting, but still found nothing. I had finally allowed myself to begin to drift off again when a small pain in my pelvis brought me back to alertness. It wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever experienced, but it certainly got my attention. A lot of the muscles in my abdomen and back tightened as well, and I caught my breath, waiting for it to pass. After several seconds, it did, and my body relaxed.

I rolled to my other side, wide awake now. I had no clock in my room and couldn’t say for sure how much time passed, but eventually, I felt that same muscle seizing and pain, only slightly more intense than before.

“Crap,” I said aloud.

I eased myself out of bed and turned on the light. I found some drawstring yoga pants that I put on with the oversize T-shirt I’d gone to sleep in. Trudging down the hall, I made my way to Candace and Charles’s bedroom door and knocked. She opened it in about five seconds, an athame in one hand and a gun in the other.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately, peering behind me.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think I might be in labor.”

“Has your water broken? Are your contractions more than five minutes apart?” Before I could even muster an answer, she turned and yelled, “Charles, wake up! Just like we practiced!”

And to my astonishment, it appeared they really had been practicing this. I was glad someone had because I certainly hadn’t. Most of what I knew about childbirth came from TV, when people would boil water and make bandages out of sheets. I was pretty sure modern medicine had advanced past that, but I hadn’t bothered taking any sort of labor class. There’d been too much else going on, and I figured I could always do it “later.” I’d kept telling myself I had plenty of time. In fact, that was the problem.

“It’s too early,” I said from the backseat of the Reeds’ car. Candace had taken it upon herself to drive because she was certain Charles would “follow the speed limit.” He rode in the passenger seat, carrying a bag they’d long ago packed on my behalf. “This has to be something else. I’m only ... what, twenty-nine weeks? I’ve got eleven more to go.”

“Twins come early all the time,” said Candace, in a matter-of-fact tone that made me think she’d been doing a lot of reading up on the subject.

“But why would mine?” I argued, knowing I sounded like a petulant child. “I’ve done everything right. The doctors always say everything’s fine with me.”

“Sometimes nature has its own ideas,” said Charles in that gentle way of his.

Indeed it did. When I was admitted to the hospital, the obstetrician on call was initially optimistic that they might be able to halt this labor and prolong the pregnancy, even though my contractions were picking up in frequency and intensity. Her words relieved me, even though she also mentioned something about future “bed rest” that made me uneasy. Still, that panicked voice inside me kept repeating, Too early, too early! If we could delay this, we had to, even if it meant me staying immobile and miserable. Health reasons were key, obviously, but there was also the simple fact that ... well, I wasn’t ready for my new arrivals just yet.

Once I was in a room and the doctor was able to examine me more closely, her story changed. “I’m afraid they’re coming whether you’re ready or not,” she told me, face serious. “I don’t know what kind of birthing plan you had, but we’re going to have to do an emergency C-section. They’re not turned the right way. Pretty common when twins come this early.”

Was she kidding? I didn’t have any plan, let alone a birthing one. My doctor in Ohio had also mentioned caesareans were common with twins. I admired the efficiency of the procedure but wasn’t thrilled about being cut open—or the extra recovery time. Still, wasn’t this exactly why I’d chosen to come to the human world for delivery? I’d wanted to be in the hands of modern medicine, and this was as modern as it got.

“Okay,” I said resolutely. Not that I had a choice. “Let’s do what we have to.”

Things moved quickly after that. In some ways, that was good. It gave me little time to worry because someone was constantly giving instructions or doing something to me. I was taken to an operating room with a flurry of activity, Candace by my side in scrubs. An anesthesiologist inserted something in my spine, and like that, all feeling below my waist disappeared. It was strange to say the least, but I was glad to be free of the pain of my contractions.

Whenever I thought of surgery, I thought of being knocked out and waking up later. So, even though I knew this spinal method was better, there was some part of my brain that said it wasn’t natural to be awake while people were operating on you. The medical staff erected a small curtain above my waist so that Candace and I couldn’t see what they were doing. I could feel it, though—yet had no pain from it. There was just the pressure of a knife in my skin and muscle. I winced.

“Are you okay?” asked Candace worriedly. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” I assured her, trying to put on a brave face. “It’s just ... strange.”

I had an easier time with the thought of monsters beating me up and tossing me around than calmly allowing a surgeon to cut into me. I wondered if that came from living among the gentry for so long or if it was simply my nature to resist being helpless in the hands of others.

Between the sheets and numbness, it wasn’t easy to tell how they were progressing. So, I was caught off-guard when a nurse said, “It’s the girl.”

She lifted the squirming baby up to give me a quick look, and I felt dizzier than any drug could have made me.

A girl. My daughter. Everything I’d done these last seven months had been for both twins, but she had been the force that initially spurred me to action. Kiyo had given me argument after argument about how her brother was some terrible creature that couldn’t be allowed to live, yet I’d been unable to sacrifice her along the way. And now, here she was. I felt worlds away from where I’d been upon first seeing her on an ultrasound.

I had no time for further philosophical musings because they soon spirited her away. Her brother came shortly thereafter, presented to me in the same quick manner.

He made a small, piteous cry, and I tried to remember if the girl had cried or not. Everything had happened too quickly. Again, I got only a brief look before he was whisked away, with explanations of “oxygen” and “NICU.” In that momentary assessment, I didn’t see any conqueror of worlds. I only saw a baby, a very, very small one, who seemed surprised and upset to have to face what the world had in store for him.

I knew how he felt.

Even with the most intense part over, there was still more to do. There was the afterbirth to deal with, then the stitching and cleanup. My incision was stapled, and I couldn’t even fathom trying to explain that to a gentry. The entire process seemed too quick and too neatly wrapped up for its magnitude. Candace stayed as close as they’d let her throughout the whole ordeal, finally returning to my side when I was in presentable shape. She clasped her hands together, face shining.

“Did you see them?” she asked wonderingly. “Oh, Eugenie. They’re so beautiful.”

They were, I realized. My glimpses had been quick, but those images were etched permanently in my memory. I wanted to see them again, as soon as possible. I was forced to wait, though, while the staff did whatever it was the babies needed in the NICU. Tests were run, and there was nothing I could do but bide my time until the obstetrician sat down with me again.

“They’re both nearly three pounds each,” she said. “Which is fantastic. Twenty-nine weeks is definitely viable, but it’s always better the more weight they’ve got.” That would be Candace’s cooking and food agenda, I supposed. “Their lungs aren’t as developed as a full-term baby’s would be, of course, but we’re able to help with that. All in all, they’re in remarkably good shape. They’ll need to stay here for a while, but at this point, I’m really pleased with the prognosis.”

After a little more medical talk, they finally let me go to the twins. I was wheeled down, which seemed like overkill, but the nurses assured me I’d understand once some of my pain medication wore off. Candace and Charles accompanied me. He said something about having called Evan, but I didn’t pay much attention. My only thought was that the nurse needed to get me to NICU faster. When we reached it, I wasn’t fully prepared for what I found.

The twins were there, each in their own glass-encased bed. They weren’t the only things in the box. Each twin was connected to feeding tubes and a ventilator, a world of dizzying machinery. It all seemed too big and too scary for such little people. Something caught in my throat.

“I didn’t know there’d be so much ... stuff,” I managed to say.

The nurse had a kind, compassionate face. Exactly what you’d want from someone in this job. “I know the machinery’s intimidating, but don’t focus on that. Focus on what it’s doing. It’s helping make sure they’ll both get healthy and strong so they can go home with you.”

I gave a weak nod and hastily ran a hand over my eyes. Had I really been afraid of these two? And how could anyone have wanted to harm them? They were so tiny, like little dolls, and looked so terribly helpless. I felt guilty and ineffectual, like I should have done something to delay their birth. Or like I should be doing something now. I was their mother. Wasn’t it my job to protect them? I supposed, so far, I had, but now it was out of my hands.

They didn’t look like the downy, cherublike babies on TV. There was a fragility to their limbs, hands, and feet that, again, reminded me of dolls. Their skin was pink and blotchy, yet I could tell I was the parent they’d taken after. They had my coloring and didn’t appear to have inherited any of Kiyo’s features. Small blessings.

“What will you call them?” asked Charles.

Unlike everything else in this ordeal, I actually had an answer for that. My long days had given me a lot of time to ponder names, which were a much safer mental challenge than the rest of my life. It would be nice to say I’d come up with really symbolic names or names of great people who’d left some impact on my life. Nope. It was a much simpler matter than that. I simply gave them names I liked. Ordinary names. The kinds of names a person shaped—not ones that shaped a person.

“Ivy and Isaac,” I said. I was a fan of alliteration.

Candace and Charles seemed pleased by the choices. I’d once heard her go off on “the ridiculous things people name their children these days,” so I think she was relieved I hadn’t made up some weird monstrosity for them.

“These are amazing times we live in,” she said, looking down at Ivy. “Imagine having these little ones a hundred years ago. What would’ve happened then?”

Or, I thought, what would’ve happened if they’d been born in the Otherworld? Because I had to assume they would’ve come early there too, in a position not suitable for natural birth. Dorian had seemed confident of his healers’ magic to handle anything, but I wasn’t so sure—especially considering the gentry track record with infants. I couldn’t believe anything the Otherworld could offer would match the care the twins were getting now. And I knew in that moment that everything I’d been through—turning my back on the Otherworld, coping with boredom, keeping away from magic—had all been worth it.

I gazed at my children and sighed happily. “We’re exactly where we need to be.”