Shadow Heir

The three of us sat down in a small parlor that still bore the signs of its previous owner’s taste in decorating, mainly a lot of doilies and paisley prints. Being “trapped” indoors made Roland uneasy, and he shifted uncomfortably, literally on the edge of his lion-footed velvet chair. Quickly, I explained to him what had happened in Ohio. As he listened, his face grew darker, and all his discomfort at being behind gentry walls faded as his concern shifted to me.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I’d had such a good feeling about that one too. How did they find it? There’s no way they can have spies in every part of our world.”

“They’re pretty good at having spies everywhere in this world,” I pointed out. “We know they regularly watch the borders of my kingdoms—and Dorian’s—to track my movements. I’m just usually too well guarded for them to do anything. My guess is someone tracked me to the gate that led to Hudson, and from there, they just staked the town out until they figured out my patterns.” It still irked me that pulling that off was something Mainwenn and Kiyo’s spies would’ve had to have done over a long period of time—and I’d never noticed.

“So we need to find another doctor,” said Roland. I could already see the wheels spinning in his head as he assessed various locations and what he knew of their Otherworldly connections.

“Well, that’s up for debate,” interjected Dorian. “These human doctors keep telling her she’s fine and healthy. Why does she need to keep seeing them then?”

“To ensure she stays healthy,” said Roland evenly. “No offense, but I’m not leaving her in the hands of your medieval medicine.”

“I doubt Eugenie appreciates the thought of any of us making decisions for her.” That almost made me scoff. Dorian was notorious for making “helpful” decisions on my behalf, so it was comical that he’d now take the high ground about my independence.

“Enough,” I said. “Both of you. Dorian has a point—I have been getting healthy reports. But ... it’s hard for me to entirely let go of modern medicine.”

“‘Modern’ indeed,” said Dorian dismissively.

“Easy enough to talk healthy now,” said Roland. “But childbirth’s an entirely different matter. You’ll want our doctors then. You don’t know what can happen.”

“Given birth to lots of children, have you?” asked Dorian.

“What’s your infant mortality rate around here?” returned Roland. I saw Dorian flinch ever so slightly. Once they were adults, gentry were extremely healthy and hard to kill. Infants were another matter, and that—coupled with the difficulties gentry had conceiving—made having children in general pretty difficult.

“It’s irrelevant if she gets herself killed with all this world crossing!” exclaimed Dorian in a rare show of frustration. “If she stays put here and doesn’t venture out of her lands, she’ll be safe.”

I could see Roland starting to get almost as worked up as Dorian. “Putting aside the medical part for a moment, she’s hardly safe with her enemies right on her doorstep. Even if she is in her own ‘lands,’ how long do you think those bastards will leave her alone once they realize she’s holing up here?” The “right on her doorstep” part reminded me of Ilania’s invitation to the Yew Land and arguments about how I’d be safer once I wasn’t actually sharing borders with Maiwenn. I had no intention of accepting that invitation, but Roland’s words still drove home the same truth. Staying here might not be wise either.

I expected Dorian to come back with one of his stinging remarks and escalate things further with Roland. It was simply Dorian’s nature, plus this was an issue he felt passionately about. I was about to silence them both when Dorian took a deep breath and said, “Look, I don’t want to pick a fight with you. I respect you too much, and at the heart of this, our goals are the same. We both just want her safe.”

Roland’s blue eyes narrowed as he sized Dorian up. I caught my breath, wondering what Roland’s response would be. Agreeing with a gentry was not his normal operating procedure.

“Agreed,” Roland said at last. “We do want the same thing. Arguing methods is counterproductive.”

I exhaled and stared at both men in astonishment. Contrary Dorian and stubborn Roland ... in agreement? If not for the fact that threats on my life were the source of their accord, I would’ve reveled in this as a landmark moment of gentry and human peace. Unsurprisingly, this tranquil interlude couldn’t last. Guards burst into the room, with Pagiel right beside them. It was almost a repeat of last week at Dorian’s, and I half expected Ysabel to be in tow, ready with some new bitchy comment. Pagiel’s expression told me, however, that something much direr was at stake.

“What’s wrong?” Dorian and I asked in unison.

Pagiel’s face grew grim, and I had a feeling he was trying very hard to behave in a calm and controlled manner. A glint in his eye suggested his outrage was so great that he just wanted to burst out with it. “Ansonia,” he said.