Shadow Heir

I traded my jeans and T-shirt for a long dress with a lace-up V neckline. It had short sleeves, which I preferred to the latest gentry trend in bell sleeves, and was made of a light material perfect for summer. I kept calling the color “lightish greenish,” but Jasmine and the maids kept correcting me and saying it was “celadon.” Whatever. My hair was pinned up in a simple bun—nothing like the crazy towers of hair from the Yew Land—and I had to admit the final result was rather queenly. Jasmine wore a similar dress in dark blue.

Dorian nodded in approval when we were taken to him. “Celadon. Excellent choice.”

He was also in regal attire. He’d traded his traveling clothes for a robe of black with silver embroidery. His attire usually consisted of pants and linen shirts, paired with rich, flamboyant cloaks. Apparently, he’d been serious about throwing around his royal status.

“That’s a badass robe,” I said as I sat down. “Dorian, Slayer of Souls.”

“Well, I did tell you I was envious of that nickname,” he said, stretching back in an ornate armchair. “You two are lovely, as always.”

I glanced around. “Aren’t Ysabel and Edria here yet?”

He waved dismissively toward the door. “Oh, yes. We found them right away. I just like making them wait. Like I always say, the more you can unsettle someone, the better.”

“Oh? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that,” I remarked.

He flashed me a smile. “That’s because I’m usually practicing it on you, my dear.” Jasmine rolled her eyes, and he turned toward a sentry waiting near the room’s entrance. “All right. Go fetch them.”

The brief levity faded, and dresses and robes suddenly seemed irrelevant compared to what we had to contend with. I couldn’t believe Pagiel was back in the human world. Worse, before Roland had left, he’d told me that Pagiel’s range had actually expanded last time. He’d been spotted in New Mexico too.

Ysabel and Edria were soon ushered in, with an unhappy-looking Ansonia. Much like before, I got the impression she’d been dragged along against her will. Her mother and grandmother displayed an interesting mix of emotions. Irritation, fear, and ... a trace of guilt.

“Goddamn it,” I said, not even letting Dorian start whatever grand, intimidating speech he had planned. “You guys do know. You’ve known for a while.”

Ysabel gave me a tight smile. Her lips were painted as red as her hair today. “I beg your pardon? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The fact that she was being polite convinced me even more that she was lying.

“Before you say another word,” said Dorian, with a terrifying look I’d rarely seen him wear, “you will show the proper respect to me and Queen Eugenie. The lot of you have gotten lazy and disrespectful in your time here, and you’ll be lucky if I just turn you out and don’t imprison you for treason.”

Ysabel’s smile vanished, and she and the others quickly dropped into the lowest, most respectful curtsies I’d ever seen.

“Your Majesty,” said Edria. “I don’t understand this talk of treason. We are your most loyal subjects, and you need only ask us to serve.”

Dorian rose to his feet and stormed over to Edria, leaning only a few inches from her face. “If you were my ‘most loyal servant,’ you would’ve told me immediately that Pagiel had resumed raiding humans! Now. Where is he? And I warn you, I’ll know if you lie, so save yourselves while you can.”

Ansonia was guileless and wide-eyed and probably would have spilled whatever she knew then and there. Ysabel and Edria were a different story, and I could practically see the wheels spinning in their heads as they tried to figure out what strategy would get them in the least trouble.

“We thought Your Majesty approved of such actions,” said Ysabel at last, apparently deciding truth mingled with faux ignorance was the way to go. “After all, you’ve always spoken out in favor of Storm King’s prophecy. We didn’t tell you, simply because we thought it didn’t matter. We certainly weren’t trying to hide anything.”

Dorian had backed off and returned to his chair. “Yes, I’m sure that’s all there was to it.”

“You never answered the other question,” I pointed out. “Where is Pagiel now?”

“We don’t know.” Belatedly, Ysabel added, “Your Majesty.”

“Ysabel ...” warned Dorian.

She blanched. “It’s the truth, sire. We’ve hardly seen him since he returned from the Yew Land. He comes back every so often from the human world to distribute his goods—only to those in need, I assure you—but otherwise, I don’t know where he stays. Perhaps here, perhaps there.”

I weighed the truth in her words and knew Dorian was doing the same. Studying all their faces, I actually believed Ysabel was being honest. She really didn’t know where Pagiel was. Perhaps that was intentional on his part. Plausible deniability.