Shadow Heir

“I try not to see it,” she said bluntly. “Or think about it. It’s the only way I’ve gotten by these last couple months.” It sounded harsh at first, but then I realized I could understand her reasoning—and didn’t like that I could. She tossed her pack unceremoniously on the floor and stretched. “I’m going to go hang out with Pagiel for a while.”

I knew Pagiel had his own hut for the night and wondered if I should be attempting some sort of chaperoning. In the end, I let her go without a word. She’d become a lot more responsible in our time together, and besides, who was I to deny her some happiness in these times? I pulled a chair as close to the cooking pit as possible and warmed myself while trying not to ruminate on what Isaac and Ivy were doing right now.

A knock sounded behind me and I called a welcome without even glancing back. A foolish move, as it turned out.

“Eugenie?”

I jumped up and spun around as Kiyo entered. I had set down most of my weapons already but still had an athame in my belt. I pulled it out and held it out between us. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned.

He shut the door and then held out his hands beseechingly. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to talk.”

“I have no interest in talking to you,” I said. “I don’t want to hear any more explanations about how you’re on this journey to help us and have buried the hatchet in order to save the world.”

“Actually,” he said, “that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh. Then are you here to apologize for trying to kill me? Because I don’t really want to hear that either.”

“I’m not really here for that either,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ouch. I’d meant it that I didn’t want to hear any pleading, and really, no apology could make up for what he’d done. Still, there would’ve been something, well, decent about an attempt at remorse. “Then I really don’t see why you’re here.” I sat back in the chair, turning it to face him, but kept the athame out. I wasn’t about to let my guard down but wanted to project cool confidence.

“I wanted to talk to you about your children,” he said. “Word is they were born early.”

I gestured to my stomach. “Obviously.”

“And they’re alive?” The clinically detached way he asked that was shocking.

“Yes,” I replied. “Alive and well.”

Kiyo sighed in dismay. If he’d said, “That’s too bad,” I probably would’ve punched him then and there. Instead he said, “Eugenie, you must know how dangerous they are. Especially the boy.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know that, actually. What I know is that they’re innocents who have come into the world with their whole lives ahead of them, lives which they—not some prophecy—will shape and which I intend to make happy and meaningful.”

“That’s nice in theory but also naïve. I’m sure your father started out as an innocent too. Look how he turned out.”

Anger was kindling in me, far hotter than the blazing cook fire. “They’re nothing like him. Neither am I. And nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. It didn’t work when I was pregnant. It’s not going to work now.”

He took another deep breath, like he was waging a mental battle to try to seem reasonable. “I’m not trying to be cruel here. I don’t want any of this. I’m just trying to save this world and the human one from a lot of grief and destruction.”

“You’re not being cruel?” I exclaimed. “You’re all but suggesting the death of a child—a baby! And for what? Some prophecy which probably isn’t true? These two aren’t even going to know about the Otherworld! They’re far away from any of this, and I intend to see they stay that way.”

A glint of annoyance showed in his eyes. Maybe whatever anger management he’d been practicing wasn’t working so well after all. “That’s the attitude everyone has when they try to stop a prophecy. You know the old stories. Trying to avert prophecies just makes them happen. Destiny fulfills itself in ways you never expect.”

“Our actions and choices shape our destinies,” I growled. “Otherwise there’s no point in living. I can’t believe you don’t see that! You were always so reasonable in the past—at least until you decided to kill your own children. You have no business saying my son’s the monster here.”

He flinched at those words, as well he should have. A funny look came over his face, one I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t guilt or chagrin, like I would have expected. Before I could ponder it further, the door opened without a knock and Dorian strolled in as though he’d lived here for years.

“Why, hello,” he said cheerfully. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I was just passing by and thought I’d see if your charming hovel needed any patching. My magic’s quite good at summoning dirt and rocks for convenient household usage.”