Shadow Heir

To my surprise, I also found myself missing Dorian. After finding out I was pregnant, I’d seen him almost every week in the Otherworld. Not having his sarcasm and wit around anymore seemed weird, leaving an empty spot within me. Weirder still was that, aside from that last idyllic week, he and I hadn’t really spent much tender or recreational time together. It had always been business, making plans for our kingdoms and figuring out how best to thwart Maiwenn and Kiyo. Nonetheless, I’d simply gotten used to having him around. No matter our personal differences, we worked well as a team.

Occasionally, more troubling thoughts about him would plague me. Lying in bed at night, sweating from the Alabama heat, I’d find myself sifting back farther in my memories, to the time when he and I had been involved. I was rapidly reaching a point in my pregnancy where sex sounded like the least appealing thing ever. But in my memories, it was still easy. There had been a lot of nights in the Thorn Land, when Dorian had been with me and we’d lain in bed in similar kinds of heat, sweaty and restless. Even in those conditions, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off of each other. His skin had felt like fire against mine as he moved in me, his mouth equally hot wherever it touched me. The heat around us had seemed inconsequential to that between us.

Recalling that night did more than just torment my body. It tormented my mind. I still hadn’t gotten over the way he and I had parted. Dorian still cares about me. Dorian maybe even loves me.

How did I feel about that? How did I feel about him?

Although the weather in Huntsville remained hot, summer was winding down, and with its end, Evan would be returning to school. He began spending more time with me, still in that polite, hands-off way. Sometimes I’d catch him looking at me in a manner that made me nervous, and I feared some outpouring of affection. It never came, showing he was just as patient and content as he’d claimed to be. He further proved the point while we were out fishing one day.

I’d never been fishing before. It wasn’t something you really did a lot of in Tucson. We were out on a small, quiet lake ringed in willows, in a no-frills motorboat that had just enough room for us, our catch, and a cooler stocked with Coke, juice, and Milky Ways. Evan was very critical about everything we caught, and it was important to him that we caught no more than we could eat. Anything else was a waste, he declared.

“Uncle Chuck makes a mean batter for these,” Evan told me. “We can have a fish fry tonight.”

That sounded great to me then and there. I was starving, but then, I always seemed to be lately. My appetite had shot up out of nowhere these last couple weeks, much to Candace’s delight. While I certainly didn’t try to halt my eating, every extra bite was a reminder that I was going to get bigger and bigger. As it was, my weight had shot up exponentially too. It was still mostly confined to my stomach, but every day, I felt a little slower and a little more uncomfortable.

I finished off a Milky Way to curb my hunger, fully knowing no obstetrician would endorse it as sound nutrition. I chased it with a thermos of cider, giving me a brief flashback to the Oak Land harvest parties. Those bonfires and crisp nights, paired with Dorian’s smile, seemed like a lifetime away.

“I think there are some rules about pregnancy and fish,” I told Evan, returning to the present. “It’s probably in one of the pamphlets the doctors gave me.”

“Ah, that’d be a shame,” Evan said, casting his line out. A breeze off the water eased some of the heat and ruffled his hair. “If you can’t have any now, we’ll make sure you have a double helping after the babies come. If you’re still here, that is. Have you thought much about it?”

I watched my own bobber drift lazily in the water. As far as I could tell, I was doing exactly what he was with technique, but he kept catching more fish. “Honestly, no. Mostly I’m just trying to get through the pregnancy, but I’ll have to figure out the rest soon enough.” I sighed. “Do you think I should stick around?” It was a foolish question, I realized, seeing as he didn’t have nearly enough background to understand the consequences of that decision.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I like having you here, but in the end you have to do what you want and what you think is best.”

I almost laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”

“What’s that? To do what you want?” His bobber disappeared in the water, and he gave the line an experimental tug, revealing he’d indeed hooked another fish. Damn. How’d he keep doing that?

“Yup,” I said. “I’ve had a lot of well-meaning people in my life, but most haven’t been shy about telling me what they think I should do.”