Shadow Heir

Chapter 19

I was dumbfounded for only a moment until I pieced together what had happened.

I glared at Orj and his companions. “That’ll teach me to give people the benefit of the doubt.”

Gallus chuckled. “If it makes you feel better, you were identified as soon as you crossed into the Beech Land.” So much for Dorian charming the Beech squadron’s leader. “Even if this lot hadn’t helped us, we would have seized you through other means before you reached Withywele. They simply reported on your magic and descriptions to help us further verify who you are.”

I glanced over at Alea, whose spotted falcon now rested on her shoulder again. I’d paid little attention each time she sent him off ahead and only now thought about how he’d never returned this last time when he was allegedly only scouting a short distance. It had been sloppy of me—as was my confidence that not working any great feats of magic would protect my identity. If they already had us flagged because of our physical descriptions, any use of water or air—even if it wasn’t monumental—would tip them off. I’d also been so arrogantly concerned about my own prowess that I hadn’t realized Dorian’s remarkable bridge-building would also be telling.

One of Gallus’s men stepped forward holding silver chains laced with sporadic iron links. “I know these won’t truly restrain you,” Gallus told me. “But I trust you’ll be accommodating about them, in light of this ... situation.” He nodded toward my captive friends, and I saw that aside from being tied up, Keeli and Danil also had copper blades at their throats. Binding gentry with even a little iron was usually enough to stunt their magic, but my human blood protected me. Even chained, I could call on my magic and summon a storm that would wipe out half this group. But I didn’t know if I could do it before Keeli and Danil had their throats slit.

Accepting this momentary defeat, I nodded with a grimace and extended my arms. Dorian held his out as well. The iron would bind him, as it would the rest of my party—even Jasmine. I was the only one capable of magic, but it would do no good until we reached our destination. No—that wasn’t entirely true, I realized moments later. Kiyo would be unaffected by the iron too. His only magic was shape-shifting, and the gentry aversion to iron wouldn’t stop that. I wondered if Varia’s people knew that. Still, like me, Kiyo risked getting someone killed if he acted. We would both have to bide our time.

The Yew soldiers confiscated our horses and weapons, forcing us prisoners to travel on foot. We walked along sullenly, and I knew that each one of us was trying to figure out an escape plan. The only bright side, I supposed, was that now we knew we were getting a direct ticket to Varia. One of the prevailing theories was that if the gifts were indeed in Withywele, they’d be kept in Varia’s own palace—which was likely to be heavily guarded. Now, I thought bitterly, we didn’t have to break in.

At one point in the trip, Alea passed near me. I glared up at her and Spots. “You guys make convincing refugees.” Along with everything else, it irked me that I could have so misjudged them. Their appearances and frustration had seemed genuine.

“We are refugees,” she snapped. “You have no idea the things our people have suffered.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

She stared stonily ahead. “What we’ve done here has bought us favor with Varia and will lift the blight from our land.”

“If you hadn’t betrayed us, we could have worked together to lift the blight and keep your self-respect.”

With a scowl, she left me and rode on ahead.

Withywele was impressive when it came into sight. The Otherworld had few cities, and while they were hardly strewn with concrete or skyscrapers, there was still an urban feel to them. Stone and wood buildings were built closely together and had multiple floors, something rarely seen outside of castles. The cobblestone streets were busy with horses and people. Vendors were everywhere, hocking their goods. A few buildings were true works of art, with marble and fanciful architecture. Nobody paid much attention to us captives as we went by, though the crowds quickly made way for the guards to pass. Maybe prisoner transport was a common thing around here.

Varia’s palace was one of the pretty buildings. It had rounded domes adorned with that white and green stone the Yew people seemed to like. Damarian jade, that was it. The palace spread out over extensive gardens, which were adorned with statues and fountains. As we passed them, I occasionally caught glimpses of name placards. One statue, of a sharp-faced woman with a beehive hairdo, was labeled Ganene the Great.

Ganene. The name was familiar, and I rifled through my memories to try and figure out where I’d heard it. Soon, it came to me. When Volusian had first seen the ambassador’s statues, I’d mentioned they were from Varia. She must be Ganene’s daughter, he’d said.

Volusian!

Volusian might be my ace in the hole here. Of course, there was one slight problem. I couldn’t summon him in this kingdom without the help of my wand, and the guards had taken that from me.

Inside the palace walls, our party dispersed. The Hemlock people were escorted to “guest quarters” to rest before making some appeal to Queen Varia. As they left, I saw Alea giving me one last look, which turned to a glare when she realized I’d noticed her. I figured the rest of us would be taken to prison cells. What I didn’t expect was that we’d be taken to different ones. Dorian and I were led one way, the rest of our party another.

“Hey, wait,” I protested, coming to a halt despite my escort’s attempts to move me forward. “Where are you taking them?”

“To the dungeon, of course,” said Gallus.

I frowned. “Then ... where are you taking us?”

“To confinement more suited to your stations,” he replied. “We’re not complete savages, you know. We want you to be comfortable so that you’re in good shape when you surrender your lands to Her Majesty.”

“That,” I said, “is not going to happen.”

Gallus shrugged and gestured toward those going to the dungeon. “Protest all you want, but never forget we have them in our grasp. Step out of line, and they die.”

“Forget us,” growled Rurik. “Summon a storm that’ll blast this place to pieces. We’d gladly die to see that bitch ripped apart.”

One of the guards slammed the hilt of his sword into Rurik’s head. “Do not talk about Her Majesty that way.”

“Be patient,” I told Rurik. I didn’t want him killed for any reason, certainly not through guard brutality. I spoke my words confidently, like I had a plan, and I hoped it would give him faith. I also hoped it would give me an idea or two.

Dorian and I were taken to the palace’s third floor, to a forlorn-looking hallway. There, we split again and were led in opposite directions. Even if we were going to royal accommodations, I supposed they wouldn’t want us too near each other, lest we carve holes in the wall to talk. He met my eyes before he was led away, giving me a fleeting smile. It gave me hope because I knew he would never stop planning a way out of this. It also inspired me to keep up my own courage and be a worthy match to his dedication.

But being separated from him made me feel terribly alone, especially when I saw my “royal” cell. If this was one of their nicer lodgings, I couldn’t imagine what the rest of our friends were in. The cell was cramped, with dreary gray stone walls and a tiny, high window that barely let in light through its bars. A straw-filled mattress lay on one side of the room, while a few other “niceties”—like water and a rickety wooden chair—sat on the other.

“Make yourself presentable,” one of the guards told me, after he’d undone the chains. He tossed my travel satchel, which had been stripped of weapons, to the floor. “We will come for you when the queen calls you into her exalted presence. And remember—don’t get any foolish ideas. We have magic users out here too who will sense if you act.”

They shut the door, and I heard a heavy lock slide into place. I gave the door a good solid kick, mostly to ease my frustration. It didn’t work. It was maddening because I was in full possession of my gentry magic and could do nothing with it so long as they held the others hostage. I stared at my satchel. At first, I had no intention of becoming “presentable.” I had no desire to impress that bitch. After a little thought, though, I decided it was less about impressing her and more about presenting myself as more than a bedraggled prisoner. I was a queen of two lands, lands I’d earned—unlike her and her blackmail.

Not that I could do much preparation with such limited means. My recent bath had gone a long way to help, and the water in here let me clean up any smudges I’d since acquired. I combed my hair into a semi-neat ponytail and changed into my last clean sweater, which was green with snowflakes on it. Honestly, did all sweaters have to contain holiday decorations? At least I still had all my jewelry, which gave me some air of regality.

Jewelry ...

A strange, slightly crazy idea came to me. Quickly, I stripped off my rings, bracelets, and necklace and spread them out on the bed. I took an assessment of the jewels I had. Moonstone, amethyst, citrine, quartz, obsidian, and a few others. Worn as jewelry, their powers were passive, mostly offering protection and occasional clarity for focusing shamanic magic. I separated out the ones that could be manipulated into objects of power and put the remaining jewelry back on. Then began the arduous task of prying out the jewels I’d set aside. Stripped of all truly useful tools, I had to rely on the hard plastic edges of my toothbrush and comb. Amazingly, I was able to make it work, but the process wasn’t graceful.

Next, I went to the pathetic chair and attempted to break off one of the legs. The wood looked so old and rotten that I was certain I could do it with my bare hands. Nope. I couldn’t. So, I gave it a few thwacks against the wall—hoping no one outside overheard—that successfully weakened the wood, allowing me to finally pull off a leg.

Returning to my bag, I found a long knee sock (a dirty one, unfortunately) and stuffed all the jewels inside it. I then wrapped the sock around the chair leg, knotting it so that the bundle stayed affixed to the wood without any of the jewels escaping. Satisfied, I stared at my creation.

I had just made the tackiest, most pathetic wand in history.

It would in no way match my confiscated one, but a lot of the principles remained the same. The wood would allow me to focus my magic through the jewels, drawing on their inherent properties. It would’ve been better if the jewels had been properly charmed, but then, there were a lot of things about this wand that could be better.

Casting a wary glance at the door, I stood and held the wand straight out. This magic was shamanic and human. It should be undetectable to the gentry outside. I spoke Volusian’s summoning words and felt the magic falter as it went through the wand. Still, it was stronger than if I’d summoned him unaided. Remembering the effort I’d needed before, I channeled every bit of focus I could into the magic, trying to break through the land’s enchantment blocking his bond to me.

Against all reason, just when I thought I’d failed, Volusian appeared in the cell. He had that flickering appearance again but didn’t look like he was going anywhere. The bond between us had been hard to summon, but I didn’t feel it was going anywhere either. His red eyes took in the scene and then came to rest on my “wand.”

“My mistress summoned me with ... that?”

“My options were kind of limited,” I said, sitting on the mattress.

“I would feel insulted,” he said, “save that it’s a greater slight to those who cursed me that their wards could be overcome so easily.”

I smiled. “Well, don’t get too cocky because we’re still in kind of a mess. Varia’s people have us all prisoner here in her palace.”

“You are still in possession of your magic.”

“If I use it, there’s a good chance they’ll kill off my friends before I can actually accomplish anything.”

Volusian said nothing but gave me a look that clearly stated he didn’t see what the problem was.

“Is there any way you can free them?” I asked. “That would take a lot of stress off me.”

“It seems to me, mistress, it would remove a lot of stress if I freed you.”

I shrugged. “I’m sure I can free myself. Well, maybe. I mean, I’m not the one with a handicap here. The rest of them are bound and blocked off from their magic. I’m not because Varia knows I won’t risk their lives. Once they’re out of trouble, though, I can start doing some serious damage.”

“That plan is ill-conceived and ill-advised, mistress. Fortunately for you, I am unable to comply. I can’t stray vary far from you in this land.” It was kind of what Dorian and I had talked about, how Volusian needed me and our bond to overcome the magic that would normally bar him from the Yew Land.

“Can you go to Dorian?” I asked. “I think he’s down the hall.”

Volusian tilted his head as though listening to something. “Yes. I can probably reach the Oak King. Do you want me to go now?”

“No, not until I have a plan to—”

There was a click outside my door as the lock was undone. I hissed for Volusian to disappear as I shoved my half-ass wand into my satchel. I’d placed the broken chair as far as it would go into a corner earlier and hoped no guards would notice it.

They didn’t. Their concern was getting my chains back on. Maybe Varia didn’t think I’d do anything drastic with my friends’ lives on the line, but that didn’t mean I could walk around her palace free and unencumbered. My guards escorted me back to the main floor and then into what could only be called a throne room.

I didn’t have a throne room. My predecessors might have, but I’d ordered my people to strip down the rooms in my castles and make them utilitarian. When I had official visits, it was usually in cozy sitting rooms with little pretension. Dorian didn’t technically have a throne room either, though he did have a raised throne sitting high in his dining hall, which he would sometimes sit in when he wanted to look impressive.

But this ... this was another story. The room was huge and could have doubled as a ballroom. Larger-than-life portraits of past monarchs lined the walls. The wide, smooth floor was made of more damarian jade, and pillars lined the room in a way that drew the eye toward the front. There Varia’s throne sat, even higher than Dorian’s dining room throne. The chair itself was fantastically huge, its back made of elaborate gold filigree and bedecked with gems. Despite the room’s enormity, that throne was the only furniture in the entire place. It again made sure all attention went to the front—and that those who came to see the queen were uncomfortable.

I had a feeling this room probably filled up regularly with petitioners and courtiers. Today, it was just me and my guards. Our footsteps echoed around the room as we approached the stairs leading up to the throne. I refused to be awed by the throne and instead studied the paintings on the walls. The names were meaningless until I saw Ganene again. Only, she wasn’t alone in her portrait. An inscription read Queen Onya and Her Daughters, Ganene and Nissa. Queen Onya was a stern-looking figure with a giant crown, providing a contrast to the woman on her left. That one was young and delicate-looking, very beautiful with a nervous expression. The woman on Onya’s right had a hard look to her and a very strong resemblance to the woman sitting before me.

That would be Varia. She was seated grandly on her throne, wearing a dress of ruby red velvet with a skirt far too big for practical movement. I suspected servants had spread it out and draped it over the throne in an artful way. She had brown eyes and brown hair arranged in another of those high hairstyles I kept seeing among Yew women. Her age was difficult to guess, but she was certainly older than me. Jewels adorned almost every free spot: fingers, wrists, neck, ears, and hair. It was a dazzling display that walked a very, very fine line between regal and gaudy. On her lap were two tiny, furry little dogs that looked suspiciously like the annoying yappy kind I despised.

“Kneel,” one of the guards said. He started to shove me down, but Varia made a small, delicate motion with her hand, and he immediately stopped.

“No need for that,” said Varia, stroking one of the dogs. She pitched her voice in a way that was well received by the room’s acoustics, something she’d probably practiced quite a bit. “Queen Eugenie here is a fellow sovereign. We don’t kneel to each other.”

“Do we often take each other prisoner?” I demanded.

She smiled sweetly. “Well, now, that depends on whether or not we are staging coups into each other’s lands. You can hardly expect me to take no action when you and your cohorts come with plans to assassinate me in some feeble attempt to end the Winter Enchantment.”

“We call it the blight,” I said. “‘Winter Enchantment’ sounds like some kind of ice-skating show.” I didn’t really expect her to catch the reference. What had seized my attention was her accusation that we’d been coming to take her out personally. She didn’t know about our actual plans. She didn’t know about Volusian’s help and the deductions we’d made about the gifts she was holding.

“It makes no difference what you call it,” she declared. “And don’t flatter yourself by thinking you’re the first monarch who has tried to take matters into her own hands. The watchers I keep in my lands have descriptions of most of the kingdoms’ royalty. That’s the charming thing, you see. Monarchs who plan to surrender send emissaries. Monarchs with grand plans of rebellion come in person. Some delusion of personal greatness, I suppose.”

“Or,” I said bitterly, “maybe it’s because those monarchs care about their people and are willing to risk themselves.” I was guessing Varia and her dogs rarely dirtied their hands.

Varia shrugged. “Perhaps. Whatever the reason, it’s foolish. Far smarter to join my united kingdoms. I was quite disappointed when I heard reports that you and King Dorian had entered my lands with your nefarious plots. You’re both quite conspicuous, you know. I’d hoped you two—particularly you—would come to your senses and join me. Especially after the kind offer my ambassador made you.”

“To run away from my problems and hide out here?” I scoffed. “No thanks.”

“From what I hear, that’s exactly what you did do, however. You just picked a different venue and were probably on guard the entire time.” She gestured around her. “Had you been here, you could have relaxed and enjoyed the final months of your pregnancy. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so stressed and afraid, your children wouldn’t have been born early and in danger.”

I stiffened, not liking the implication that my actions were responsible for the twins’ risky delivery. “That’s not why they came early. It just happens with twins sometimes.”

“So you say. I’m a mother too, so I can relate to these niceties we try to convince ourselves of. And as a mother, I was quite sincere in my invitation to protect you. I think it’s appalling what the Willow Queen and others tried to do to you. Appalling and cowardly. I would’ve helped you on principle alone. That, and I have so wanted a friend I can talk to and be on equal terms with.”

“Ilania mentioned that too,” I said, not really buying it. “Some kind of female-solidarity thing?”

“I need to talk to someone, don’t I? Aside from my little darlings here.” She paused to scratch the dogs’ chins. Both had jeweled collars and little bows on their heads. “And men have proved far too disappointing. I gave up on them years ago, except for the necessary pleasures, of course. Mostly, they bore or irritate me. I would greatly welcome smart female companionship. It’s lonely having all this power.” There was a wistful, melodramatic way to her delivery of that last line that made me want to punch her.

“Sorry if I don’t feel bad for you. It’s hard for me to muster a lot of empathy for someone who’s been responsible for so much innocent death and destruction.”

Varia laughed merrily. “Innocent? There are few who can really claim that. And what would you think if I told you that I can focus the Winter Enchantment more harshly on specific kingdoms? You find me cruel, but the enchantment as it currently stands still allows life to go on in your kingdoms.” The laughter died, and she leaned slightly forward. “I have the means to focus the spell and increase its intensity. If you liked, I could focus on the Willow Land and completely destroy it.”

I gaped. “You’d completely destroy a kingdom full of innocent people?”

“Including Queen Maiwenn,” she pointed out. “That would be terribly convenient for you. And a nice bit of revenge after all she’s done to you—she certainly hasn’t balked at hurting innocents. Why not return the favor?”

I didn’t have a great opinion of the person who’d created the blight, but this conversation was making her credibility deteriorate even more rapidly.

“There’s revenge ... and then there’s madness and cruelty,” I said. “And I would never kill off her entire kingdom for what she’s done.”

“Easy to say with your children alive and well. Still, I hope it emphasizes what a great friend I could be to you. Believe me, I really do prefer it that way. This situation only has a couple of possible outcomes for you, and you willingly signing on as my ally would be preferable to all of us.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm. “And all you’d ask in return for these friendly feats of destruction is us being pals and having a little girl time now and then.”

Varia’s lips quirked. “Well, as an important ally, I have no doubt you’d want to help me out now and then.”

Gentry wheeling and dealing. At least it was familiar territory.

“Here we go,” I said. “Let me guess. You want to help lead my son’s armies when we conquer the human world?”

“Human world?” She shook her head in amazement and looked as though she was ready to burst into laughter again. She lifted one of the dogs and peered into its face. “Did you hear that, Lady Snowington? How silly.” She returned the dog to her lap and looked back at me. “Why on earth would I care about humans when there’s plenty to entertain me here in this world? This is the world I want. The problem is, it’s such a nuisance keeping my subject kingdoms in line. Even though they surrender and allow my forces within their borders, I’m constantly having to reassert my power with dramatic shows of force. It’s very tiring.”

“How terrible for you.”

She continued, either not noticing or no longer caring about my sarcasm. “That’s the nature of the game, however ... unless I had a more permanent way to bond to all of these lands, one that would give me unbreakable authority without the constant maintenance.”

I gave a harsh laugh. “Sounds pretty easy then. Just kill off all the monarchs and take the lands’ bonds and—” My smile faded, as a terrible, sinking realization hit me. “That’s it. That’s why you want to be my ‘friend.’ You want the Iron Crown.”

Varia didn’t deny it. “It makes things so much simpler.”

What made the Iron Crown so deadly was that it broke the bond between a monarch and his or her land. As I was constantly reminded, that bond ran deep. It was tied into my life and being, and short of death or a monarch inexplicably losing power, there was no way to end that bond or pass it on. If there had been, I likely would’ve given the Thorn Land away when I first won it. Then, the discovery of the Iron Crown had changed everything. With the Iron Crown, I’d ripped away Katrice’s connection to the Rowan Land. Left unclaimed, the land had then been ripe for me to bond with it and take control.

My earlier joke had been right to a certain extent: Varia could just kill off all those monarchs. But that wasn’t easy, seeing as monarchs, by their nature, were usually among the most powerful magic users in their kingdoms. It would make for long, taxing battles, and no matter how badass Varia wanted to seem, I knew she wasn’t all-powerful. Magic for magic, whatever hers was, I doubted she was stronger than me. What made her remarkable was that she had a league of magic users to work with, creating the kind of power that had led to the blight. Organizing a group for a passive enchantment was one thing. Getting them all together to go hunt down monarchs in outside kingdoms was an entirely different matter.

“No. There is nothing you can do that would get me to give you the Iron Crown—not that I could if I wanted to,” I added. “It can only be used by the person who won it.”

“So I hear,” she said. “But that’s fine. I’d only need you to shatter the bonds. I’d take care of the rest.”

I thought about all the kingdoms near me and the many I’d heard about under her control. “You can’t bond with that many. It’s not possible. No one’s that strong, not even you. Two is taxing enough.”

Varia looked at me like I was crazy, which was saying something. “Well, of course I wouldn’t bond them all! That’s absurd. I’d simply make sure they were claimed by those I could trust. My daughters, for example, would make excellent queens. If you stayed on my good side—and I must admit, you aren’t endearing yourself very much right now—I might give you a couple.”

“No,” I repeated. “I’m not using it on your behalf. I’m never using it again, and I’m not telling you where it’s at. You want it? Kill me off so it’ll return to its resting place. Then you can go get it and do whatever you want.”

“That’s hardly practical, and you know it.” The Iron Crown’s resting place was in a land packed with so much iron that most gentry couldn’t set foot in it.

“Well, then, we’re at an impasse,” I said triumphantly. “I have something you want, and there’s no way I’m giving it to you. End of story.”

“No, child,” she said, shaking her head with mock sympathy. “That’s where you’re mistaken. Really, you have nothing at all—and I have everything.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Like your friends in my dungeon.”

I went perfectly still. “What are you saying? That you’ll kill them if I don’t use the crown for you?”

“It’s certainly an option. The fact that you have yet to attempt any magic to fight me has already given away how much they mean to you.”

“Yes,” I said, my heart sinking. “But they would all willingly die to prevent the enslavement of countless other kingdoms or abuse of the Iron Crown.” I knew the words were true as I said them, but they still hurt. I’d held back on using magic, not just because my friends’ lives were on the line, but also because I didn’t have an entirely clear plan on what to do with my magic. But something like this? Varia’s world domination? No question. None of my companions would be able to live with themselves knowing the scope of what their freedom had cost others.

“At some point, you have to decide what number of lives tips the scale. So, you’re saying these, what, six or seven individuals aren’t worth the crown’s cost? What about your kingdom? Kingdoms? What I offered to do to the Willow Land—by focusing the enchantment—can be done to yours instead.” Her smile grew particularly cunning. “Or maybe it’s less about quantity than quality. Your children are out there somewhere. Do you think they can stay hidden forever? Even in the human world, I can find them. I have many subjects, and you and your sister aren’t the only ones who can pass through with ease.”

The room threatened to spin around me, and I had to focus myself to stay calm and not give away how hard her words had hit. “Are you really so heartless?” I demanded. “Listen to yourself! You’re threatening to wipe out two entire kingdoms and hunt down my children!” Seeing her smirk, I had to restrain from clenching my fists. “Do you enjoy this? Do you get some kind of sick thrill from these kinds of psycho threats?”

“No,” she told me, still smiling and petting the dogs. “I simply take satisfaction out of pointing out the obvious, and it’s exactly as I already said: you hold nothing here, and I hold everything.”