Shadow Heir

“We’ve done you a favor,” she called. “You don’t need those men. Men cause war. Now you can pass through our land serenely and maintain Varia’s great peace.”

Before I could attempt to figure out what that meant, Astakana bounded off into the woods and melted away. It was unclear if she simply slipped into the trees or became one, but I had no more time to care. She was gone, and I turned back to my friends. Jasmine was dressed, and Keeli was staggering to her feet.

“We have to get back,” I told them. Assuming they’d follow, I set off at a hard run back to where we’d left the guys.

If our experience had resembled a slumber party, the men’s was about two steps away from an orgy. I found the five of them exactly where I’d left them—only, they weren’t alone. Half a dozen dryads were there, performing the same kind of spa treatment Astakana had been giving us. Kiyo sat shirtless while a dryad rubbed some kind of flower oil into his back. Another dryad twined flowers into Danil’s hair. Still another held Dorian’s head on her lap and crooned to him as one of her cohorts rubbed his feet. All the men had the same dreamy, glazed-eyed looks we’d had at the lagoon.

I hurried forward with the athame, not entirely sure of my strategy, save that it would likely end in some dryad ass kicking. “Get away from them!” I yelled, hoping either silver or a pissed-off woman would scare them. “Leave them alone!”

The dryads scattered like a flock of birds, offering no resistance and disappearing into the trees with more merry laughter. After what Astakana had insinuated about men, I had thought there might be a fight ahead of us, as though the dryads would be busy slitting throats. All the men seemed to be alive, though, and I breathed a sigh of relief. We’d made it in time. Jasmine and Keeli soon joined me, also looking relieved.

“Well, that could have been a lot worse,” I said, putting the athame away. “I didn’t realize this would be the danger we’d face from the Mimosa residents.”

None of the men responded. None of them even looked my way. I’d assumed that, like us, they would come back to themselves once the dryads’ druglike presence was gone. Yet, all of the guys were staring off into space with dopey looks on their faces, oblivious to us and the world.

“What’s wrong with them?” asked Jasmine.

“Not sure,” I said. I hurried over to Rurik and shook his shoulder. “Hey. Wake up. Walk it off, okay?” He said and did nothing. Frustrated, I attempted to rouse the others and received similar results. Astakana’s words came back to me: We bring peace and joy and leave happy memories—at least for women. With men, we leave nothing at all.

I stared around in disbelief, clueless what to do. The men were still alive, but for all intents and purposes right now, they were dead to the world.

Chapter 16

“This is stupid,” said Jasmine. Her usual condescension was tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “You’re just not trying hard enough.” She stormed over to Pagiel. A dryad had been giving him a shirtless massage, and he lay sprawled where she’d left him. Jasmine grabbed his arm and pulled him to a sitting position. She leaned close to his ear. “Hey! Wake up!” After a little awkward struggling, she actually managed to get him to his feet. To my astonishment, he not only remained standing but also took a few steps forward.

I gaped. Jasmine had been right. I hadn’t tried hard enough. Except, Pagiel soon came to a stop. He stood where he was, still gazing off with that blank expression that saw nothing of the world. He was like a sleepwalker. Jasmine’s brief grin of triumph crumpled, and she looked at me beseechingly.

“Eugenie?”

There it was again, the idea I could fix anything. I sighed and studied our men, searching for some clue that might undo this. Noting the flowers and flower oil, I momentarily hoped removing them would do the trick. But not everyone had flower exposure. There was just something intoxicating and deadly about the dryads’ presence that created this enchantment. I’d certainly experienced it.

Out of answers, I summoned Volusian. He appeared in the shade of a magnolia tree and took in the scene at a glance.

“My mistress has been visited by dryads.”

I nearly sagged in relief. Identification had to be a good sign. “Do you know how to fix this? Can we bring them back?”

“I would think my mistress would appreciate the peace and quiet,” he said.

“Volusian! Answer the damned questions!”

His eyes narrowed—in thought or irritation, I couldn’t say. “I don’t know, mistress. Many men don’t recover from dryad magic. There are ways to combat it, but they don’t always work. Dryad victims usually starve to death or wander off of cliffs.”

“Geez,” said Jasmine. “They must really hate men.”

“What do we have to do?” I asked Volusian.

“You can start by placing mistletoe berries under their tongues. A single one will do,” he said.