Shadow Heir

Chapter 12

I felt a little ridiculous when my mom dropped Roland and me off at a gate out in the Sonora Desert. In addition to my down coat, I also had on a turtleneck, sweater, jeans, tights, knee-high boots, gloves, scarf, and knit hat. Roland was similarly bundled up. It was super early in the morning, but the temperature was already on the rise. Fortunately, there were no hikers out yet to see the spectacle we made.

I was riding shotgun, and my mom caught a hold of my hand before I got out of the car. “Be careful,” she said. “And don’t stay away so long this time.”

“I won’t,” I said, hoping I could keep my word. I gave her hand one last squeeze and then stepped outside, where I was immediately blasted by morning heat. I grimaced, feeling like I was in an oven. “Let’s do this.”

Roland nodded and headed over toward the gate. To the uninitiated, it simply looked like any other place out there in the desert. We knew what signs to watch for, however, and could even sense the gate’s power. It was of moderate strength, meaning it required little effort for us to cross—and was the kind that a wayward person could accidentally get caught up in on a sabbat day. Roland gave me one last questioning look.

“Sure you’re ready?”

“Very,” I said, not feeling sure at all.

We stepped through, and I felt that familiar and always-disconcerting sensation of being stretched, pulled apart, and reassembled again. Knowing what to expect helped a little, and within moments, I was back to myself—just in time to be nearly knocked over by a blast of wind. I caught hold of the first thing I could, which turned out to be Roland. He steadied me as I regained my footing and stared around in disbelief at what I saw.

White, as far as the eye could see. We stood on one of the main roads that traversed the Otherworld. It was covered in snow that looked like it had been packed down somewhat by wagons, horses, and feet. I wondered also if there was some magic to the road that kept it semi-clear because the snow covering it was nothing compared to the drifts on either side of us, which came nearly to my waist. Also lining the road were trees coated in both ice and snow. There was almost something beautiful to their delicate, lacy appearance—yet at the same time, the trees had a stricken and forlorn feel to them. They were imprisoned, struggling to stay alive.

With nearly everything blanketed in the ice and snow, it was difficult to pick out many features in the land. Even the sky was dreary, covered in white and gray clouds. This could have been any place, really. The unique characteristics that normally identified the various kingdoms were obscured in white, but I didn’t need any of them. I knew exactly where we were.

We were in the Rowan Land.

My eyes had a difficult time believing it, but my heart knew. I sank to my knees and rested my palms flat on the ground. There it was, the hum of energy that sang within the land of every kingdom, the energy that made up the bond we shared. It screamed out to me for help ... and at the same time, it felt muted. It was like someone beating on glass, desperate to get out but unable to break the barrier. I couldn’t break it either and understood more than ever why I hadn’t known about the lands’ distress while in the human world. The land hadn’t been able to fully reach me.

Roland touched my shoulder. “Eugenie, come on. We shouldn’t stay out here any longer than we have to.”

I knew he was right and reluctantly got back on my feet, surprised to feel myself shaking all over. I suspected it was as much from shock as from the cold.

“I didn’t expect this,” I said as I began following him down the road. “I mean, visually, yes. Each time you described the blight, I kept picturing this documentary I once saw about Antarctica. This isn’t far off, except with less penguins. What I didn’t expect was how the land felt. This cold, or rather the magic that’s causing it, goes all the way to the land’s core. Until now, I thought only I could reach that deep.”

“If you’re able to reach that far, were you able to get any sense if you could undo the magic?”

“Not just then, no. It seemed like the magic was entrapping the land, and there was nothing I could do to break through.” I saw Roland frown but didn’t know if that was in disappointment or because of his inability to fully comprehend gentry magic. “Maybe in time, I could find a way.”

I wasn’t so sure, however. I had to imagine the other monarchs had experienced the same sensations I had, and if they hadn’t been able to find a way to crack the enchantment after all this time, it seemed unlikely I’d be able to either.

After a little traveling on the road, the land shifted, and we found ourselves in a different kingdom. I knew instantly that it wasn’t mine and was almost relieved to be free of the Rowan Land’s pleading. Without that innate connection, though, I couldn’t readily identify where we were. It took the sight of some massive oaks in the distance, their leafless branches burdened by snow, to tip me off.

“The Oak Land,” I murmured. Dorian’s kingdom. Even though I knew he’d been affected, it was still incredible to see the reality. Many of the other kingdoms around here had changed since I became a frequent visitor, but the red-hued, perpetual autumn of his realm had remained constant. It was unreal to see a land that had once flourished in vivid color, now so barren and stark.

“Do you want to see Dorian?” asked Roland.

“No,” I said, even though I kind of did. “We’ll stick to the original plan and check in with the Thorn Land first. I need to see my own people.”

Another shifting of the road took us back to the Rowan Land, and still another took us into the Willow Land. I cringed, expecting an ambush, but the world around us remained frozen and silent. The only change was that in addition to the wind that had been constantly blowing, snow now began falling as well. It stung our faces and eyes and continued when we made our next crossing, into the Thorn Land.

Although the land had its own unique feel, its cry for freedom matched that of my other kingdom. I stared around, watching the snow fall, unable to believe that this landscape had once been a mirror of Tucson.

“We’ve got to go off the road now to reach the castle,” I said. “Usually there’s a smaller road or at least a path that splits away, but if there’s anything like that ...” I shook my head at the drifts, unable to differentiate one from another. “Well. It’s buried.”

Roland eyed the snow, which was as high as three feet in some places, depending on how the wind had blown it. The visible parts of his face were red, and I knew he was as cold as me. “This is going to be fun to walk through. You’re sure you know where you’re going?”

“Yeah. I can feel where everything is around here, and the castle’s that way.” I hesitated before continuing. “You probably won’t like this, but I can make things a little easier.”

The blight’s enchantment was too powerful and all-encompassing for me to break or affect on a large scale with my weather magic, but I still had some control over the individual elements. The blight’s greater spell had been to simply lay wintry weather on the land. Once in place, that weather behaved like any other. I summoned my magic to me, gathering the air and already gusting wind. Directing it forward, I made the air blast into the snow ahead of us, serving as a magical snow blower to create a more accessible path. Roland scowled but didn’t protest. He knew as well as I did that we’d be out here all day if we had to trudge through this mess unaided.

Still, it took us a few hours to reach our destination, and by that point, I could barely feel my limbs. I kept telling my legs to move forward and took it on faith that they’d obey. I was also just exhausted. Even with magical help, we still had to walk through some snow, and I was a long way from being in my former physical shape. Roland, judging from his heavy breathing beside me, was fighting hard too.

The Thorn Land’s blocky fortress of a castle came into sight when we were still a good distance from it. The terrain’s basic features had remained under the blight, and the land was relatively flat here, making the black stone building show up in high contrast against the snow. We were close enough to be in range of patrolling guards, and one of them soon rode up to us, demanding to know who we were.

“Me,” I said, braving the cold to remove my hat and scarf.

It took several moments of staring before his face registered recognition. Even then, it was easy to tell he didn’t believe what he saw. “Y-Your Majesty? Is it really you?”

“The same,” I said, bundling back up. “Just a little colder.”

The guard turned and yelled something. Moments later, another scout rode up and shared his colleague’s shock and amazement. “Ride back and tell them she’s here,” said the first guard. He dismounted and offered his horse to Roland and me. “Go on and get warm. I’ll follow on foot.”

I started to protest, but the guard was dressed warmly and had probably become more used to this weather than we were. I thanked him and mounted the horse with Roland. My body remembered how to do it without difficulty, and I was again pleased to be regaining my former agility. The horse moved slower with two, but our speed was much better than if we’d been on foot. The guard who’d ridden ahead had long since beaten us, so we found a crowd waiting for us at the castle’s entrance.

I climbed down from the horse ungracefully—reminding me I shouldn’t be quite so cocky yet about my improved athleticism. The clumsy move made me look like an undignified queen, but it was clear none of that mattered once the people caught sight of my face. I heard awed gasps, and one by one, they began falling to their knees in the snow with murmurs of “Your Majesty.” I’d never been entirely comfortable with these shows of loyalty in the best conditions, let alone snowy and frigid ones. I was about to urge them to get up when I noticed one person still standing.

“Jasmine!” I exclaimed, rushing forward.

My sister stood wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, her face pale. It flooded with relief when I caught her in a big hug. She returned it with more fierceness than I would’ve expected, considering we weren’t usually so touchy-feely. “Thank God you’re back,” she said into my shoulder. “Now we can fix all this.”

I wasn’t ready to tell her yet that I wasn’t sure I could fix it. Yet, as I finally managed to get everyone to return inside, I could see from the servants’ faces that they too thought everything would improve now that I was back. That faith made me uneasy. I also noted that, aside from the guards who’d been on patrol, Jasmine was the only one in any sort of suitable gentry-style winter attire. The others who had rushed out to see me had been wearing clothing that had clearly been patched together to protect against the cold, with mismatched layers haphazardly arranged. Better than nothing, I supposed.

After a few greetings and nondescript assurances, Roland and I were able to leave the crowd and meet Jasmine in a cozy sitting room. When Aeson, this kingdom’s former ruler, had been in charge, the land had undergone seasons, and the castle had been built to accommodate winter. That had made for miserable conditions once I turned the land into a desert, often making this keep feel like a kiln. Now, that design paid off. The sitting room was small, with no windows, and held the heat coming from a blazing fire. I was pretty sure it was the first time I’d ever seen one of the fireplaces in use here.

Jasmine told me she’d sent word “to the others,” whatever that meant. She then gave orders for food and drink to the servants before finally settling into a chair. There was a maturity to her that hadn’t been there before, likely the result of being forced to take charge of so much so quickly. She kept her cloak on, but I was ready to remove my layers. I was still cold but felt heavy and encumbered. Roland must have felt the same way because he too stripped off his winter wear. We both found chairs and dragged them as close to the fire as possible. Jasmine sighed.

“I don’t know if it’s because I grew up in the desert or if it’s just because this weather’s such a bitch, but I swear—” Her jaw dropped as she did a double take at me. “You ... you’re not pregnant!”

I thought it had been obvious right away, but I suppose the coat might have been deceptive. “Nope, not anymore.”

“But you ...” Her words died again, and I could see her mentally crunching numbers in her head. “You shouldn’t be due for a few more weeks. Did you��”

“Everything’s fine,” I said quickly, seeing panic start to overtake her. “They just came early. About a month ago. They needed lots of medical help, but everything looks great for them.”

She relaxed, but her blue-gray eyes were still wide. “Then you’re ... wow. You’re a mom. And I’m an aunt.”

I smiled. “Yup. Their names are Isaac and Ivy.” I wasn’t going to say a word, not even to her, about their location, but their names were safe enough. That revelation got an even bigger reaction. Jasmine filled with delight.

“You named her after me!”

I frowned, not entirely sure where that leap of logic had come from. Because of shared botanical names? “Well, I—”

“Oh, Eugenie!” She jumped up from her chair and hugged me again, leaving the cloak behind. “You’re so awesome. Thanks so much!”

She seemed so happy that I figured it wasn’t worth mentioning the plant names were coincidental. Just as my un-layered state had surprised her, I was astonished to look at her now and see how skinny she was. I could feel her ribs when she hugged me.

“What happened to you?” I exclaimed, once she’d sat down again. “You’re skin and bones!”

Jasmine glanced down with a scowl and picked at her too-loose dress. “Oh, that. Well, there’s not a lot of food anymore. Plus, trying to keep the lands alive takes a lot out of me.”

Guilt ran through me. I certainly knew communing with the land took a fair amount of energy, but it hadn’t occurred to me until now that doing so in these conditions would be extra taxing—especially since she was just the substitute. Maybe that bonding wasn’t solely responsible for her weight loss, but I didn’t doubt that keeping the land in check played a role in some of the gauntness in her face.

“Jasmine, I’m so sorry—”

She waved it off. “Don’t worry. It had to be done, right? Besides, once it’s charged, the land can go a while in these conditions. And you did what you needed. Everything’s okay with Isaac and my namesake, which was the whole purpose.”

She then proceeded to give us an account of how things had been in both kingdoms. Jasmine didn’t use quite the technical language and statistics that Shaya might when describing people and resources, but she did a much better job than I would have expected. In filling in for me, Jasmine had ended up taking on a lot more responsibilities than just being the lands’ caretaker. Her report gave me more specifics on the situation here, but the big picture wasn’t much different from what Roland had described. As close as Jasmine was to Pagiel, she hadn’t accepted any of his stolen goods—though she was undecided on whether what he was doing was wrong.

My kingdoms had, much to her chagrin, done some trading with the Yew Land. We were one of the few kingdoms that had a steady stream of resources unaffected by the cold: a thriving copper supply. We couldn’t eat copper, of course, and had no other significant food sources. The crops in both kingdoms favored warm weather, and the animals in the Thorn Land hadn’t been able to survive at all. The Rowan Land had some winter-ready game that had provided meat for the people, but even those animals were struggling. With limited food and a lot of copper that no one else could afford to buy, trading with the Yew Land had seemed like the only option.

“I’m sorry,” said Jasmine. “I wish we didn’t have to— especially since those bastards are probably responsible for this mess.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “You had to feed the people, and the copper was doing us no good.”

A servant arrived just then to announce a group of guests had arrived: Dorian, Shaya, Rurik, and Pagiel. “How’d they get here so fast?” I asked, once the servant went to fetch them. Jasmine had said she’d sent word, but even with magical communication, the trip from Dorian’s land would’ve taken a while.

“They were all in the Rowan Land,” explained Jasmine. She nodded toward Roland. “He gave us a heads-up that you might be coming one of these days, so Dorian’s been hanging out there. He brought Pagiel because he figured you’d want to talk to him.”

“He was right,” I said. Despite his quirks, Dorian always had a good feel for what I was thinking.

My heart leapt when I saw him. After the dreariness of the blight, Dorian’s presence was a breath of life and excitement. He swept in grandly, as though this were an ordinary state visit. He wore his typically rich, brightly colored garments, with the centerpiece being an emerald green cloak made out of satin and adorned with gold embroidery. It matched the green of his eyes and made his long hair look like a wave of fire that gave the illusion of warmth. Neither he nor any of the others were wearing heavy outerwear, so they must have shed it before entering the room. Probably whatever Dorian had for the cold weather wasn’t fashionable enough for him.

He held my eyes for a moment, and I was suddenly flooded by a million thoughts. How we’d said good-bye. The memories of his body that had haunted me these last couple of months. The way I’d missed him. And again, the knowledge that he maybe loved me again.

“The wayward queen returns,” he said as though none of those other matters existed. A quick assessment revealed to him what Jasmine had also discovered. “Considerably less of her.”

His tone was light, but I could tell that, also like Jasmine, he was uncertain of what had become of my pregnancy and was hesitant to presume.

“That’s because I left my children behind,” I said. I kept my words light too, but their meaning left an ache inside me. “They were born about a month ago and are doing well.”

Shaya looked awestruck. “Truly? They’re thriving after being born that early?” She shook her head in amazement. “Human medicine,” was all she said on the matter. From the moment I’d met her, she’d been very outspoken about humans “twisting technology,” but I think this had made her reconsider the benefits. Probably not enough to handle hearing about my C-section and the NICU, though.

Her awe soon gave way to joy. She embraced me, and even Rurik did too. Dorian and Pagiel didn’t, both keeping their distance for entirely different reasons. Once the welcomes were done and we were all seated, Rurik leaned back and sighed with satisfaction.

“Well, then,” he said. “Now that you’re back, we can get rid of this blight.”

There it was again. I grimaced. “Why does everyone think I can fix things?”

“You’re Storm King’s daughter,” he replied. “The weather obeys you.”

“Not this weather,” I said. “I mean, the little parts, yeah, but all of it? It’s an enchantment that’s bigger than just a weather pattern. It’s permeated the core of the land ... corrupted it.”

Dorian nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. And I suspected as much—that your formidable capabilities wouldn’t be enough to break this.”

Rurik seemed undaunted. “Even if it’s not a matter of controlling the weather, can’t all of you just ... I don’t know ... band together and break the spell?”

I glanced to Dorian for this answer. Roland had hinted that something like what Rurik was suggesting had already been attempted. “Several of us monarchs tried to unite our powers and break through,” Dorian confirmed. “It was ineffectual, and I didn’t get the feeling that we were close—like if we had one more person, we could have managed it. This enchantment is going to require something more, I’m afraid.”

“Maiwenn helped you,” I said, trying not to sound accusing.

He shrugged. “What is it humans say? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ Right now, the blight is everyone’s enemy. Maiwenn wants to end it as badly as we do, and she’s a force that shouldn’t be easily dismissed.”

“She plotted to have me and my children killed!”

“Yes,” Dorian said. “I can see where that would bother you.”

I arched an eyebrow at that. “Bother” was kind of a mild way to put it.

Shaya’s face had initially reflected Rurik’s enthusiasm, but now she’d grown grave. “We have to do something. We can’t go on like this.”

My gaze fell on Pagiel, who was watching me warily. “We also can’t raid the human world for food.”

He straightened up, and I knew he’d been bracing for this. “Why not? There’s plenty of food there! It just sits around. And most of those humans are fat anyway. They don’t need it.”

I sighed. “That’s not the point. Most humans don’t even know this world exists. They’re not ... ready for it. Plus, what you’re doing is practically an act of war. It isn’t morally right.”

Pagiel crossed his arms and leaned back. “Morals don’t mean much when friends and family are starving to death. And I don’t even think it’s wrong. Humans have plenty. We have none. Taking it from them is better than letting the Yew Land abuse us for their food. That’s robbery right there.”

It was hard to argue against his Robin Hood logic, and seeing his stubborn expression, I knew it would take more than a “talking to” to win him over. Dorian, as his king, might be useful, but my guess was that even if he didn’t actively condone it, Dorian wouldn’t feel the food raids were severe enough to warrant intervention. After all, Dorian was a supporter of the Storm King prophecy. What was a little theft here and there compared to outright invasion? He probably thought Pagiel’s raids were an acceptable warm-up act.

Still, Pagiel’s words brought up another concern. I glanced around at the others. “The Yew Land. What do we know about them?”

“That they suck,” said Jasmine.

“Noted. Anything else?”

Dorian propped his elbow up on the chair’s arm and rested his face in his hand. “Everything suggests they’re responsible, though we have no hard proof.”

Rurik snorted. “No proof? That bitch queen has said she can lift the blight to those who choose to follow her.”

“Yes,” said Dorian, “but she’s very careful with her wording. She doesn’t say she can lift it because she caused it. She acts as though she simply has the power to—if we bend the knee.”

“Same difference,” growled Rurik.

“I concur, but it’s irrelevant. We don’t know enough about their magic to puzzle this out,” said Dorian.

The answer came to me like a slap in the face. “Volusian,” I said.

The others regarded me questioningly. “What about him?” asked Dorian. “I assume he’s as charming as ever, though I wouldn’t know since you went to great pains to keep him away.”

I ignored the jab. “Volusian’s from the Yew Land. That’s where he was cursed. It happened a long time ago, but obviously, they’ve still got some pretty serious magic going on. Maybe he knows something.”

Jasmine leaned forward eagerly. “See? I knew you’d know how to fix this.”

“I don’t know about that. But at least it’ll give us a place to start.” I stood up and spoke the summoning words. That familiar, cold feeling spread throughout the room, though for once, it was easy to shrug off. After I’d trudged through that Arctic wasteland outside, Volusian’s aura felt pretty soft-core. Moments later, Volusian appeared. He inclined his head to me.

“Welcome back, mistress.”

Around me, the others shifted uncomfortably. Roland had disapproved of Volusian since the beginning, and for once, he and the gentry agreed on something. None of them liked Volusian either. Dorian had even offered to help me banish him, since the curse was too much for one person to break.

I sat back down. “Volusian, we need to talk to you about the Yew Land.”

Volusian’s expression remained unchanged, but like before, I got the vibe that his former homeland was nothing he wanted to discuss. “Yes, mistress.”

“Is the Yew Land responsible for the blight?”

A pause. Then: “Most certainly, mistress.”

The others exchanged surprised looks. I shared the sentiment. With Volusian, such a direct answer was rare. Even though he was compelled to obey me, he excelled at finding ways to evade the truth.

“That’s not quite the same as ‘yes,’” I pointed out.

“Indeed,” Volusian agreed. “I have not been to the Yew Land in centuries. I have not spoken to Queen Varia. I have seen no spells cast. Without that, I cannot say, ‘Yes, they caused it.’ This magic that’s blighted these lands feels exactly the same as the sorts of spells the Yew people work. It is possible someone else has learned their magic—but unlikely. Hence my answer: most certainly.”

“Fair enough,” I said. Volusian-logic was wearying sometimes. “I don’t suppose then that you know how to break the enchantment.”

Volusian’s tone remained flat. “Of course I do, mistress. I have known for some time.”

I nearly jumped out of my chair. Rurik actually did.

“What?” I cried. “Why the hell didn’t you tell someone sooner?”

I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw the tiniest shrug of Volusian’s shoulder.

“Because, mistress,” he said. “You never asked.”