Shadow Heir

After a few more conciliatory words from us, Pagiel and the guards who’d entered with him finally left. Once I was alone with Dorian and Roland again, I stood up to walk off my frustration. I paused at the room’s window, looking out at the idyllic green grounds below. The Rowan Land looked more like a fairyland than ever before when seen from afar. One didn’t notice all the danger and turmoil from this high up.

“Don’t beat yourself up, my dear,” said Dorian, watching me pace. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. The question is: what are you going to do now?”

I glanced back at him in alarm. “What are you going to do? You weren’t serious about this being an act of war, were you? I mean, we’re already kind of at war, but there’s no need for some drastic retaliation.”

“There’s need for something drastic,” countered Dorian. “Really, Pagiel’s interruption follows quite nicely on the heels of what we’d just been discussing. They have us running and slinking in the shadows. Are you really going to do this for the rest of your pregnancy? Are you going to do this

after your children are born?”

I threw up my hands. “What else is there to do? Are you proposing some invasion of Maiwenn’s land?”

Dorian looked remarkably calm, considering the topic. “It wouldn’t be unfounded. And it would certainly send a message that they can’t keep pushing us around. I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that maybe attacking young Ansonia wasn’t a mistake on their part?”

“What would make you say that?” I came back over to stand in front of him. Roland watched our exchange in silence. “She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Exactly,” said Dorian. “And the next girl attacked won’t either. Or the next.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “You’re saying they’re purposely attacking girls who look like me? Even though they know it’s in error?”

“I’m not saying for sure that’s what they’re doing. But it would be an excellent ploy to turn your—our—own people against us, if they feel they’re being unjustly targeted.”

“Sending our people to war would put a lot more of them in danger,” I pointed out. Five years ago, I never would have dreamed I’d be having these sorts of discussions.

“Yes,” said Dorian. “But danger’s a lot easier to face when you’re initiating it on your terms, as opposed to exposing yourself to victimization.”

“They already went to war once for me. I’m not going to let it happen again,” I said adamantly. Last year, Leith—the former Rowan queen’s son—had taken it upon himself to become the father of Storm King’s heir, whether I consented or not. During my rescue, Dorian had then taken it upon himself to punish Leith—by impaling the prince on a sword. Katrice hadn’t taken that news well, starting a war between us that had eventually led to me inheriting this kingdom. I’d hated every minute of that war and had been wracked with guilt over the thought of soldiers dying for me, no matter how many times I’d been assured that my people were willing to defend my honor.

Dorian’s look wasn’t unsympathetic, but it wasn’t exactly warm and friendly either. “War may be on you again, whether you like it or not.”

“Enough,” I said, raking a hand through my hair. “I don’t want to talk about the nobility of war anymore. Ansonia survived, which is what counts. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“Don’t put it off too long,” Dorian warned. “Or you may find others making decisions for you.”

“I know,” I said.

What I didn’t add was that I had no intention of letting any more decisions be made without me, nor would I allow any other girls to be hurt on my behalf. An idea was forming in the back of my mind, one I was pretty sure Dorian wouldn’t like. It created a hollow feeling inside me, but from the moment Pagiel had told us about Ansonia, I’d known I had to take drastic action—and not the kind Dorian was suggesting. The answer was so simple, I couldn’t believe it had never occurred to me before. With an expression as convincingly bland as one of Dorian’s, I glanced over at Roland. “Let’s go figure out where my next doctor’s going to be. At least that’s a relatively simple matter.”

Dorian scoffed. “A foolish matter, you mean.” But he made no attempts to go with Roland and me, just as I’d thought. He and Roland did exchange very nice, very polite farewells, which I took as a positive sign, considering their past interactions. I wondered how polite things would stay between them if the plan I was formulating actually came to pass.

“Nasty business back there,” said Roland, speaking up at last. We were almost to the castle’s exit, and I think he felt more at ease now that he was nearly free of the walls. “No easy answers.”

“No,” I agreed.

“How old is this girl you were talking about?”

“A little younger than her brother. That’s Pagiel—the one you just saw.” I didn’t bother correcting for the rate at which gentry aged compared to humans. Roland would understand.