Shadow Heir

Dorian snorted. “You? Hardly. Now, that deer, yes, he’s incapacitated. But I recall seeing you dispatch some wraiths a couple weeks ago. Anyone who witnessed that, including those miserable creatures, would hardly say you were incapacitated.”

“I was kind of badass,” I admitted, lowering the bow. “I just don’t have much patience for this ... state I’m in.” Apparently, “state” would continue to be the best way to describe my pregnancy.

“That ‘state’ will be over before you know it.” Dorian took the bow from me and passed it off to a servant. “And until then, you’re much more capable of things than you give yourself credit for. Once your little world-conquering bundles of joy are born, we’ll train you up to be the best bow-woman in this world.”

His bravado made me smile again, and I felt a little silly for my whining. Hopefully, it was just more I could blame on hormones. Inspiration hit me, and I straightened up proudly. “I don’t need lessons. I’m already the best shot in this world. And in the others.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

I glanced over at my fallen arrows and summoned the air currents around them. The air was quick to obey me and lifted the arrows off the ground. One quick motion, and they shot off toward the stag like rockets, embedding themselves in what would have been the poor creature’s heart.

“Magnificent,” laughed Dorian, clapping his hands. “You really are a natural.”

I returned his grin, delighted with my triumph and with ... well, this. This small moment out in the sunny spring day. This small moment ... with him. I met his eyes, momentarily caught up in the shades of green that played throughout them, rivaling the leaves that gently rustled around us.

“Eugenie?”

Whatever else might have passed in that moment was lost as I turned and saw Roland Markham approaching with a group of Rowan soldiers. Dorian was forgotten as I hurried over and hugged my stepfather.

“Your Majesty,” said one of the soldiers. “Roland Storm Slayer is here.”

“So I see,” I said. If there was anyone the gentry regarded with as much awe as the mother of Storm King’s heir, it was Roland. He had rescued my mother when she’d been abducted to the Otherworld. Later, when Storm King came seeking her and me, Roland had finally put an end to my biological father once and for all. Killing the Otherworld’s most powerful, notorious warlord in recent history earned a lot of respect—and wariness. Roland was oblivious to it all, however. In truth, he disliked coming to the Otherworld and had vowed never to return after rescuing my mother. It was only because of me and the dangers I now faced crossing worlds that he had consented to come back. He was incredibly uneasy each time he did, though, and his own nerves distracted him too much to see the nervousness in others here.

“You look good,” Roland said, giving me a head-to-toe assessment. He would never let on to it in front of everyone else, but I knew he was checking me for scrapes and bruises the same as he would if I was ten years old. Whenever he was in the Otherworld, he also had a tendency to ignore everyone else and only talk to me.

“So do you,” I said. Roland had gone gray but was still lean and muscled, ready for anything that came his way. Tattoos of whorls and fishes adorned his arms, and I took comfort in their familiarity.

“Your, uh, creature said you wanted to talk to me?”

“I do.” Glancing around, I saw that between my soldiers, Dorian’s guards, and Roland’s escort, we’d gathered quite a crowd. Dorian followed my gaze and guessed my thoughts.

“Perhaps we should go inside where we can speak more privately,” he said, automatically inviting himself along. A glint of surprise flashed in Roland’s eyes, but there was no real reason Dorian couldn’t hear what was being discussed.

“I went to your other place first,” Roland told me as we walked toward the castle. “The guards there explained where you were at and brought me here.” I couldn’t help a smile at his use of “your other place.” The idea of me being a queen was still unsettling for Roland, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to say “your kingdom.”

“Then you’re fortunate,” said Dorian. “This is a much more pleasant land to meet in than that desert wasteland Eugenie usually prefers to spend her time in.”

Roland glanced around, taking in the lush greenery, warm breezes, and singing birds. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think I like the other one better. This one’s kind of boring.”

“Typical,” scoffed Dorian. “Like father, like daughter.”

Roland wouldn’t admit as much in mixed company, but I knew the comment pleased him. If things hadn’t turned out as they had with my Otherworldly involvement, Roland would’ve been content to ignore my biological heritage for the rest of my life. Blood and the Storm King prophecy meant nothing to him. I had been Roland’s daughter for years, and as far as he was concerned, that’s how it still was.