Dark Swan Bundle (50 page)

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry I asked.”

As the words left my lips, though, it shocked me that I could envision what she was describing perfectly. Dorian's magic lessons had often involved tying me up—the necessity of which I was never 100 percent certain of—and he would spend a large amount of that time weaving the silken cords that bound me. He'd arrange them in interesting patterns and color formations, consumed by the process itself. Somehow, I imagined him being the same with paint. I could see his face lost in thought as he painted flowers or suns or whatever, his clever, sensual hands taking their time as they lightly touched my body….

No, not my body. Ysabel's. I had no part of this.

“Let's get this done with,” I said gruffly, hoping she wouldn't guess my thoughts. “Then we can both go home.”

“Very well then. So, you need my help because you're weak.”

“That's not entirely true.” Jesus Christ. It was all going to be like this, wasn't it? “I have a lot of power. I know how to control and use water magic—though I guess I could be better. Everyone assumes I must have inherited wind magic too, but so far…well, I've only been able to use it once.”

“You may simply be deficient,” she said lightly. Her eyes flicked to my chest. “Like in so many other ways. But we shall see.”

It kind of went on like that for a while. Every other sentence of hers was a barb. Yet, a lot of what she explained to me sounded similar to what Dorian had said, which at least gave me some confidence that she wasn't bullshitting me. In particular, she kept trying to describe how I could reach out and feel different types of air—just as Dorian used to encourage me to do with water. Unfortunately, it had taken a very long time to do that with water, and I felt a little pessimistic about history repeating itself.

“There are different types,” she kept saying. “Don't try to sense them all. Focus small.”

“What do you mean different types of air?” About an hour had gone by at that point, and I was growing weary and longing for Tucson. “Air is air,” I argued.

“Spoken like a savage,” she remarked. “Perhaps we should just end this and tell my lord we fulfilled our promise to try.”

I gritted my teeth. “Just explain it one more time.”

She shrugged. “There are different types of air.”

When she offered no more, I began to agree with her. It might be best to abandon this after all. A few moments later, though, she elaborated.

“There is different air around plants. Different air after we exhale. Different air when the land is foggy. Not that you'd understand that in this wretched place.”

My eyes widened. “Gas. Molecules. That's what you mean.”

Now she was the one wearing the confused expression.

“The different types of air,” I continued, excited in spite of myself. “You're saying the magic depends on feeling each kind…oxygen, hydrogen, carbon dioxide….”

I was speaking a foreign language. Ysabel seemed as confused as ever, but by this point, I was running away without her. It made sense. Dorian's entire teaching method had been built on baby steps. It had started with me sensing a bucket of water and culminated in me using the water in Aeson's body to blow him apart. Starting at the molecular level with air seemed daunting, but the human in me clung to the science.

And as I sat there, I began to expand my mind out, much as I did when preparing to use water magic. Air had always remained blank and untouchable, yet as I began to simply focus on a tiny part of it, it became more manageable. I thought about Ysabel's breathing—oxygen in, carbon dioxide out. The world slowed down to a heartbeat, one breath at a time….

I'm not sure how long I sat like that. I lost track of where I was or even if she said anything else to me. Only her breathing mattered. At last, I could sense the differences, the changes in the air coming in and coming out. As she exhaled, my mind scooped up the air—the carbon dioxide—leaving her lips and flung it as I would a ball. My control was imprecise; I had no real target. The air brushed past her shoulder, ruffling her hair.

“You…you touched it,” she said grudgingly, clearly surprised.

I was alive and burning with energy now, too consumed by what I was doing to answer her. Using magic always set my senses ablaze, made the world seem more vibrant and real. I wanted to do the trick again but decided to see if I could work it the opposite way and exert control over a different type of air—oxygen. I waited again to get a feel for her breathing, letting my mind actually sense the different particles in the air. When I felt certain I could grasp the oxygen, I did—just as she was about to inhale.

Ysabel began to cough, her hands going to her throat as she tried to draw breath. Sucking the oxygen away meant, well, that she couldn't inhale it. I froze in my surprise at the obvious yet not entirely unreasonable consequences—so much so that I couldn't stop what I did. I was just…stunned. I was controlling air. The magic burned through me, and her oxygen just kept flowing away and away. It obeyed my commands, and I didn't have the coherent reasoning to cut it off.

After several seconds that felt like years, the realization of what I was doing suddenly penetrated my higher reasoning. I finally cut off the magic, letting go of my hold on her oxygen. By then, Ysabel had fallen to her knees in a desperate attempt to get air—and probably because she was starting to lose consciousness too. At last, free of the magic, she drew a large, shaking breath, face pale and terrified. A few moments later, when she'd recovered herself, she looked at me accusingly.

“You—you tried to suffocate me!”

“No!” I exclaimed, aghast. “I…I didn't. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I was just trying to control the air….”

She stood up, and where once her face had been pale, it was now flushed with anger. She was shaking. “You deceived Dorian. You already know how to use this kind of magic. This is all part of some elaborate plot.”

“No, no,” I said, standing as well. “I've never used it before—except once and only for a few seconds.”

“I don't believe you. What you just did…you couldn't have done that if you were as inexperienced as you pretended to be!”

What I'd done—aside from the fact it could have killed her—didn't seem like it was that big a deal. I'd sensed air and moved it. It was hardly a hurricane, and it had taken a lot of concentration—so much so that I didn't think I could repeat it anytime soon. I hardly had the effortless control she exerted over the wind.

“I'm sorry…I really am. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident.”

Ysabel's only answer was a scowl, just before she stormed out of the room. As she passed me, I thought I saw both fear and tears in her eyes. Despite her bravado, I realized that what had seemed more like anger in her was actually terror. She was in the home of someone she saw as a rival, someone with a reputation as a warrior and a tyrant—
and
someone who had just tried to kill her. She was trapped here by Dorian's orders.

“A terrifying feat, your majesty,” a voice near the doorway said.

I took a few steps forward and saw Shaya standing just outside in the hall, her pretty face grim.

“It was an accident,” I said, surprised at the trembling in my voice. “I don't like her, but I don't want to hurt her.”

“I know.” Shaya's expression turned both gentle and sad. “But her fear isn't unfounded. You learned that too quickly and too well.”

“It was easy! It's the same as moving water around or any other type of air.”

“From what I understand, stealing someone's breath—denying them air—is harder than simply creating breezes. You're fighting against life itself. Those who suffocate others in this way usually require great strength and stamina. For you to be able to do it already…well, it's a testament to your power—and that's nearly as frightening as the act itself.”

The full impact hit me. “Wait…there are people who do that on purpose? Steal someone's air so they can't breathe?”

She shrugged. “Well, to those with the skill, suffocation's an effective weapon.”

“It's sick…it's an inhumane way to die.”

“I agree. And most people don't have that kind of strength, so it's not an issue. Among those who do have the strength, most would never consider doing it to another person, enemy or no.”

I groaned. “Well, if that's true, then she has to understand that I wouldn't purposely do it to her either. She has to believe that it was an accident.”

“I don't think you're going to have a lot of luck with that.”

“Why not?”

“Because while most consider such torture unusually cruel, there was one person who enjoyed denying someone their breath—and who frequently used it as a form of execution and entertainment.” Shaya's look was meaningful. “Tirigan Storm King.”

Ysabel couldn't be coaxed out of her room, no matter how hard I tried. I even sent Shaya to do it, seeing as she tended to be a bit more personable than I was. No luck. Ysabel remained firmly entrenched and would only ramble over and over about how she was going to tell her lord about me and escape this accursed place.

Evening wore on, and I couldn't drag myself back to Tucson. My feelings were in turmoil. I'd never expected to feel guilty about anything pertaining to Ysabel, but there it was. And as more time passed, I didn't just feel bad about inadvertently suffocating her. As soon as I'd realized what I had done, I knew I had to cease practicing this kind of magic immediately. Storm King had used it to kill his enemies in horrible ways. Kiyo had warned that delving further and further into my powers would put me on a path I might not be able to turn away from.

And yet…that was the problem. I knew I had to stop…but I didn't want to.

Sure, I didn't want to learn air magic to kill. But after touching that power…I couldn't stop thinking about it. I found my mind spinning, analyzing the air around me and how easy it would be to manipulate it. What had started as a seemingly small lesson from Ysabel was quickly moving into larger and larger implications as I grasped more of air's patterns and how it worked. It was like I didn't even need a teacher. My own nature and pull toward magic was running away and creating its own lessons.

My conflicted ruminations were interrupted when a letter arrived via the Otherworld's equivalent of the Pony Express. It was from Leith. As I'd suspected, he'd devoured the engineering books. What I hadn't expected was that he'd already developed a plan for how to implement some of the irrigation systems and was going to accompany some workers out to Westoria in the morning to get started—unless I had any objections, of course. If I didn't, then he would be honored if I would come out to meet them.

He also added in his letter that he had investigated the towns near the Yellow River crossroads. None of them had any reports of missing girls. It figured, I thought. I either had enough bad luck to be the only monarch with runaway girls—or I possibly had an enemy specifically targeting me. Considering the number of gentry who resented my rule, the latter wouldn't have surprised me.

Regardless, I decided I had to go out to see Leith tomorrow. Even if it was just an elaborate attempt to woo me, he was still going to an awful lot of trouble with this. Plus, I hoped that if I spent the night here, Ysabel might finally emerge.

So, I stayed over, giving me the opportunity to meditate with the land. While I noticed no ostensible difference in the morning, there was a strange, intangible feel to it…. It seemed healthier. Like always, I couldn't exactly articulate why. Perhaps most disturbing of all, I found that staying over wasn't quite the agonizing ordeal it used to be.

I was preparing to head out to see Leith when a guard announced that a rider was approaching. I wondered if it was a messenger—or possibly Leith himself. Instead, it was someone quite unexpected.

Dorian.

The castle servants fell all over themselves to welcome the Oak King, and he swept inside as though perfectly entitled to it. Which, I guessed, he was. Nonetheless, I had no time for his antics today and greeted him with hands on my hips.

“Not today, Dorian. I have things to do.”

“As do I,” he said. He had that typically laconic tone to his voice, but there was an oddly serious—and impatient—look in his eyes. It was not an expression I'd seen very often. “I've come to see my subject. I knew you wouldn't welcome her with open arms, but honestly, my dear, your attempts at murder shock even me—no small feat.”

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor, both because of his assumption and the fact that she'd somehow gotten a message out to him. “Wha—? Dorian, it's not true! It was an accident. I didn't realize what I was doing.”

“May I see her?” he asked, not acknowledging my plea.

I could hardly deny him that, and he hurried off to her room without another word. She admitted him—no surprise there—and I found myself pacing the entire time they were together. It had been bad enough that Ysabel had thought me capable of assault. But somehow…the idea of Dorian thinking badly of me? Well, it struck me harder. I shouldn't have cared what he thought—God knew I was mad at him more often than not. Yet, I realized that deep inside I wanted his good opinion. I felt sick to my stomach that I might have lost it.

When he emerged, his face was still serious. “I believe I have convinced her that your intentions weren't murderous.”

I sagged in relief—more, I think, because
he
appeared to believe me. “Thank you.”

“The question now is: do you want her to stay?”

“Will she?” I asked, startled.

“She obeys me,” he said simply. “She'll stay and continue to teach if I tell her to.”

“I don't want anyone here against their will…”

“I've assured her of her safety. She won't live in—much—fear of you. So, that's no longer the issue. The issue instead is if you want to continue with her teachings.”

“I can't—not after…” I stopped, realizing I was unsure of the words leaving my lips. I didn't want to be like Storm King. I didn't want a natural affinity for learning ways to kill people. And yet…I couldn't stop thinking about the way I'd felt wielding that kind of power. Controlling water had given me a rush; air had doubled it.

Dorian's gold-green eyes were watching me very carefully. “I see,” he said. “Then I'll tell her she'll be staying a little longer.”

I started to protest but couldn't. He returned to her, stayed a few more minutes, and then joined me in my parlor where I had resumed pacing.

“Well, then,” he said briskly, “that is that.” The grim set to his face was gone, and I found myself grateful to see the return of his usual mien. “I noticed you were about to leave. Off to free humans from your subjects?”

“Off to free my subjects from me.”

I explained my task, and his features lit up with interest. “How convenient that I'll be traveling in the same direction. Unless you'd like me to wait here until you return?”

No, the last thing I wanted was to encourage Dorian to make himself at home in my castle. So, I grudgingly conceded that he could go with me, partly because I still felt guilty and grateful over his intervention in the Ysabel incident. One bright side to him being with me was that Rurik decided I didn't need an entire retinue for the trip. He alone accompanied us, and I wondered idly how Dorian managed to go wherever he wanted without an entourage. I didn't like to think he was a more authoritative ruler than me.

“Don't give me a hard time about this air thing,” I warned. “I don't want any spiels about how I'm embracing my heritage and approaching my destiny.”

Dorian smiled, eyes on the road ahead of us. “I don't need to tell you things you already know.”

“Of course…I suppose if I did get a better grip on my magic, I might be able to get rid of those fucking fire demons.”

“You see? I told you I don't need to say anything. You're finding ways to rationalize your use of magic all on your own.”

“Hey, this is a serious threat. You can't tell me you'd be all casual if you had demons running loose in your kingdom.” I frowned. “Or would you? I got the impression a lot of rulers don't bother themselves with that kind of thing.”

Dorian's eyes took on that serious glint again, despite the small smile on his face. “Aeson didn't bother. Don't generalize to all of us. You know better. If I had demons in my land, I'd lead a group out myself to obliterate them.”

I wondered if Dorian could. My potential power might be greater than his, but at the moment, his control and skill made him a more dangerous force than me. A ruler in the Otherworld had to be powerful, or else the land wouldn't accept them. It was a wonder I'd been found worthy.

“Do you want me to help you?” he asked when I remained silent. “I'll go with you the next time you strike.”

“What would that cost me?” I asked with an eye roll.

“Why do you assume everything I do has an ulterior motive? Isn't it enough I'd want to help you?”

“I don't know,” I said, not liking how his words made me feel bad. Was I attributing more insidious motives to him than he deserved? “I don't trust anyone around here.” Westoria was looming in the distance. “I don't even trust Leith's engineering generosity. He's not doing this for the sake of trade.”

Dorian's eyes lifted to the approaching village. “That,” he said, “we can both agree on. No matter how much you beat yourself up over those demons, you have more than enough strength to bind the land to you.” I hated his uncanny ability to guess my thoughts. “When Katrice dies, the Rowan Land will either pass in entirety to someone with the power to control it, or it will divide itself and be subsumed into other kingdoms.”

“Shaya said the same thing—and that Leith thinks being hooked up with me would help keep it in the family.” I shook my head. “One land's bad enough. I don't have the power to control two.”

“You'd be surprised,” he said ominously.

Our arrival was greeted with the same wonder and awe I'd had before the demon incident. Apparently, yesterday's food shipments and Leith's presence today had reestablished my awesome reputation. Dorian seemed to have an effect as well. As we dismounted and walked through the village, the residents' eyes followed both of us, filled with admiration and wonder. Glancing at Dorian, I could understand their feelings. He strode through the dusty town just as he had my castle, confident and majestic, even after a hot and wearying ride. He looked like, well, a king, and even I couldn't help but admire his good looks. Beside him, I felt frumpy and insignificant.

Then, I tried to pull back out of my glum thoughts and imagine what we must look like to these people, both of us tall and red-haired. We looked good together, I knew. I was in jeans, but I'd cleaned up this morning, and my hair was down. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see where the sun lit it up, giving the red a golden hue that complemented Dorian's truer red. My tank top was blue, a good color for me, and I had on my usual gemstone jewelry. Perhaps most importantly, we carried our titles as king and queen, and to these people, I realized we were probably the equivalent of a Hollywood couple on the red carpet.

“Your majesty! I'm so glad you could—” Leith had come running up to us and came to a total standstill when he saw Dorian. After a few stunned moments, he made a polite bow to the Oak King. “Your majesty. Also a pleasure.”

I could tell Dorian was delighted to have ruined Leith's plans for a romantic interlude. “Well, I hated to part from Eugenie this morning, so I thought I'd come along and see what's new.”

I had to restrain myself from elbowing him. His wording implied that we'd woken up together. Our former relationship was no secret, and Dorian had pitched his words loudly, so that some of the gathered villagers would hear. No doubt this would be all over the Otherworld by tonight. Leith looked even more dismayed than before, and I tried to smooth things over.

“Why don't you show us the project?” I asked him. “I don't think I can thank you enough for what you've done.”

Leith brightened and eagerly led us forward. As we walked, Dorian murmured in my ear, “Believe me, he's more than sure you
could
thank him enough.”

“How come you can allegedly do things for me without ulterior motives but no one else can?” I hissed back.

Dorian only grinned as Leith headed toward the village's edge and showed us his handiwork. There was little to see of his irrigation system at this point. Mostly people were digging and laying out the foundation. Leith did his best to explain what it would develop into and even showed us blueprints—quaintly written on parchment. I followed them a little but could tell they were gibberish to Dorian, despite his polite and confident smile.

Zealous or not, a prince of the Rowan Land was not about to do manual labor, and once the tour was done, he sat down with Dorian and me at the mayor's house. Davros seemed only too happy to keep offering his home as my hangout and eagerly served us wine before leaving his esteemed guests to discuss whatever it was royalty talked about.

“This is only the beginning of what we can do,” Leith said, positioning himself so that Dorian wasn't in his line of sight. “I'd love to come visit and discuss more ways to work through this. I've got some ideas on how to construct buildings that will reflect light better. Have you ever considered redesigning your castle?”

“Yikes,” I said. “No. That'd be a big feat.”

“Not as big as you think. Not with the right help.”

I shook my head with a smile. “Let's just focus on the people first.”

Leith smiled back. “Sure. But I will come by some day to show you some palace ideas—just in case you change your mind. Or, better yet, you should come visit us. Mother would love to show you the hospitality of the Rowan Land.”