Shadow Heir

Maiwenn and Kiyo. My heart twisted. We rarely ever spoke those names. Usually we just said “the enemy” or simply “they.” But even though there was a large contingent of gentry who wanted to stop Storm King’s prophecy, we all knew that two in particular were the real threats. Maiwenn was queen of the Willow Land and had once been a friend. Kiyo was my ex-boyfriend and half human like me.

He was also the father of my children.

Kiyo ...

If I thought about him too long, my emotions would get the best of me. Even after our romantic relationship had begun to fracture, I’d still cared about him. Then, he’d made it clear that he considered me and the twins acceptable losses to prevent any threat to humanity. I certainly hadn’t wanted to see the gentry conquer the human world either, but his actions had left me reeling. It was still a hard reality for me to accept, that I could know someone so well ... and yet not really know him at all.

“What do you think we should do about the wedding?” I asked, forcing myself to change the subject. “They know I’ll be there.” Two servants of mine, Rurik and Shaya, were getting married soon, and I was hosting the festivities.

Dorian nodded, eyes narrowed in thought. “They also know all of your allies and a number of others who simply don’t want to be on your bad side will be there. So long as we can get you back to the Thorn Land securely, there shouldn’t be—”

“I don’t care what he’s doing! It’s imperative I speak to him now !”

Dorian and I both flinched at the interruption and turned in surprise toward the source of the angry female voice. Guards standing sentry at the sitting room’s door immediately began protests about how Dorian wasn’t to be disturbed, but it was clear those explanations were being ignored.

A world-weary expression crossed Dorian’s face. “It’s fine,” he called. “Let her in.”

I’d been sprawling on a chaise, nearly as at ease as Dorian, but now I straightened up. I knew who this newcomer was and wouldn’t be caught off-guard.

Ysabel came striding into the room, wearing a gown that was elaborate even by gentry standards. I always thought the best term to describe their fashion sense was “Medieval rave.” Her dress was made of a heavy silver satin with a crazy V neckline that went nearly to her stomach. A pattern of seed pearls trimmed all the hems and also adorned her long auburn hair. I wondered if she was on her way to some formal event or if she was simply continuing in her efforts to lure in Dorian. She’d been his mistress until he and I were together, but he hadn’t resumed things after our split.

Perhaps more astonishing than her attire was that she had company. Trailing in her wake were Pagiel and her formidable and generally unpleasant mother, Edria. The boy had to hurry up to keep pace with the other two and looked miserable. A few moments later, his younger sister Ansonia also entered nervously. She had long hair, almost the color of mine, and looked terrified to be here.

“Your Majesty,” exclaimed Ysabel, coming to a halt before Dorian. I couldn’t tell if her cheeks were flushed with anger or bad makeup application. Considering the gentry often made their cosmetics out of nuts and berries, neither possibility would have surprised me. “This is unacceptable.”

“Mother—” began Pagiel, reaching her side.

Ysabel pointed at me, anger flashing in her eyes. “I refuse to allow her to keep endangering my son! Why, he nearly died today.”

“I did not!” exclaimed Pagiel.

Dorian gave Pagiel a calm once-over. “He looks fine to me.”

“It was a very close thing,” said Edria gravely.

“I don’t know,” I said, recalling how quickly Pagiel had dispatched his foe. “From what I saw, he had things under control.”

“How would you know?” asked Ysabel with a sneer. “You ran away.”

I felt a blush of my own creeping over my cheeks. My new coddled status still grated on me, as did the knowledge that I had to keep myself out of harm’s way while others defended me. No matter how logical it all seemed, I’d never be easy about it.

“Hey, I did my part,” I said.

Ysabel had already turned away from me and was addressing Dorian. “It isn’t right that my son is risking his life for her.”

“Agreed,” said Edria. Her dark hair was pulled back so tightly that I swore it stretched the skin on her face. Maybe it was the gentry equivalent of a facelift. “He has no stake in this alleged prophecy concerning her son. He owes her nothing.”

Pagiel kept trying to interject and was constantly shushed by his mother and grandmother. I felt bad for him, particularly as the only male in that family. His father had died years ago, and Ysabel’s father had allegedly been some ne’er-do-well who ran out on them. Pagiel had no one but women around.

Dorian glanced between Ysabel and Edria. “I’m not ordering him to do anything for her. He goes with her by choice.”

“But it’s not safe,” said Ysabel.