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Authors: Richelle Mead

Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4 (3 page)

BOOK: Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4
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“Grandmother, you can’t talk to her like that!” Pagiel looked mortified. “She’s the Queen of Rowan and Thorn.”
“I don’t care if she’s—”
“Enough,” said Dorian, raising his hand. Everything about his posture was still easy and relaxed, but there was sternness in his voice that drew everyone’s attention. “This conversation is done. There’s nothing I can—or will—do. Both of you charming ladies must accept that Pagiel is a man and in control of his own life. Although, if it’s any comfort”—he spared me a brief, amused glance—“I doubt he’ll be traipsing off to the human world anytime soon, now that Her Majesty’s secret hideaway is no longer so secret.”
I scowled but made no argument—because he was right.
Pagiel’s blue eyes lit up. “I’ll help you find a new place,” he told me. “I’ll check all the gates and see where they lead into the human world.”
I smiled indulgently. I was beginning to think Dorian might have a point about staying holed up in this world, but I didn’t want to dress Pagiel down in front of Ysabel and Edria. “Thank you, Pagiel.”
Ysabel looked ready to explode. “This isn’t finished.”
“Oh,” said Dorian. “I assure you, it is. Now go. All of you.”
That commanding tone was back, and after some obligatory curtsies and bowing, the family scurried off.
“They’re always so delightful,” said Dorian.
“Not the first word that comes to mind for me,” I said, watching as the guards shut the door again. I sighed. “Although, I really
do
hate the idea of anyone risking their lives for me. Especially Pagiel. I like him.”
“That’s the unfortunate thing,” said Dorian, smiling. “It’s always going to be people you like. Enemies tend not to risk their lives for you. Only your friends are willing to make the sacrifice. Besides, I thought you got over this moral quandary when we went to war against Katrice?”
“I wouldn’t say I ever really got over it. Mostly I learned to deal with it.”
“That may have to be a permanent philosophy for you.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. I stood up, stretching to relieve an ache in my back that hadn’t been there earlier. Great. One more way my body was falling apart. “I should get back to the Thorn Land now.”
Dorian rose with me. “Not yet.”
I eyed him warily. “Trying to keep me around?”
“Just being smart. Maiwenn’s agents were probably watching this hold, waiting to see if you’d return after their ambush. If they’re still in the area, it’s best you not take to the roads, escorted or not. That, and they’d also likely expect you to report here and immediately go home. Wait another day or so, and they’ll give up and leave.”
“I hate intrigue,” I muttered, knowing he was right again.
“But you do it so well.”
Then, without warning, he reached out and laid a hand on my stomach. I jumped back. “Hey! Ask permission first.”
“Just wanted to check in on my little prodigies,” he said, unfazed. He stepped toward me again. “May I?”
“They’re not your prodigies.” I gave a reluctant nod, and his hand returned. “Why bother? I haven’t felt them move yet. You certainly can’t.”
“Even so, I like the connection. We’re going to be very close, these two and I. Well, if you’ll stop being stubborn and let me adopt them.”
It was an offer he kept making me, one that would give my children legitimacy and status in the Otherworld. As queen of two kingdoms, though, they had plenty of status and inheritance through me, without his help. Dorian kept claiming he simply wanted to be a part of our lives. After all the mistrust between us, I was certain there was some sort of attempt at control going on.
“I’m still thinking it over,” I said evasively.
He chuckled to himself. “Something makes me suspect you’ll be ‘thinking it over’ for the next twenty years.”
Dorian said no more, but his hand didn’t move either. He seemed completely entranced by touching me, and I wished I could read what he was feeling. Dorian excelled at disguising what was on the inside. Part of that came from being king, and part of it came from just being ... well, Dorian. As we stood there, I soon became aware of the warmth of his hand on me and the closeness of his body. It was disconcerting and stirred up too many recollections of our past. I’d been deeply in love with him when he betrayed me; it hadn’t been an easy relationship to just let go of. Even now, the memories of our closeness and the intense physicality burned within me. When he started to slide his hand toward the side of my hip, I abruptly pulled away.
“They aren’t over there,” I said, hoping I sounded more irritable than flustered. I took a few steps toward the door. “I’ll stay another day or so and then head back.”
He clasped his hands in front of him and nodded. “As you wish. I’m sure I’ll see you around. If not, then at the wedding.”
“Right,” I said. I held his gaze for a few moments and then quickly turned away, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. Having to guess at his emotions was frustrating sometimes, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as actually knowing them.
Chapter 3
I didn’t take offense that Rurik and Shaya wanted to be married in the Rowan Land, rather than the Thorn Land. Sure, the Thorn Land was where they’d fallen in love while working for me, but I’d known for a while that few gentry shared my love for the endless heat and vast deserts of my primary kingdom. The Rowan Land was still under my rule, though, and even I had to admit it was pretty gorgeous. It was the kind of place that came to mind when you pictured pastoral picnics and idyllic afternoons. Flowers bloomed in abundance, and low, rolling mountains made for a pretty backdrop along the horizon. If I had any issue with the Rowan Land, it was that I simply hadn’t wanted to be its queen.
The wedding was held in the vast grounds stretching out beyond the monarch’s castle. The castle had been designed by the Rowan Land’s last ruler, Katrice, and looked like something straight out of a Bavarian postcard. Magic tied to plants and nature was a common gentry power, and several people must have been hard at work in decorating the grounds. I’d told them they could do whatever they wanted, and they’d taken me at my word. Huge, flowering cherry trees—which hadn’t been there a few days ago—lined the courtyard like sentries, showering everything with delicate pink petals. Climbing roses had been coaxed into a natural arch where the couple would take their vows and bloomed in exotic colors I’d never seen in the wild. There were no chairs for the guests, and I’d been told it was tradition to stand for gentry weddings, particularly since the ceremony was usually brief. Off to the sides, kept discreetly away during the ceremony, servants were piling ornate wooden tables with platters of food for the feasting that would follow. Blue morning glories wound their way up the tables’ legs, and gentry magic ensured the food stayed hot.
If there was anything that marred this beautiful scene, it was the abundance of soldiers patrolling the area. They weren’t easy to spot—at first. Guests were pouring into the area, dressed in the variety of colors and fabrics the gentry so loved. It made it difficult to distinguish anything, but after a minute or so of study, I could pick out the uniforms of both my own soldiers and the ones that Dorian had lent for the occasion. Although they were spread throughout all the grounds, the soldiers were more densely arranged around wherever I was. No surprise, seeing as I was the reason for the extra security. I also knew that all the guests—many of whom were dignitaries and royalty from other kingdoms—had been extensively screened before they were allowed anywhere near the wedding site. I felt a little guilty that my situation put this joyous occasion into lockdown mode, but Rurik and Shaya had taken it in stride.
“This dress makes me look fat,” I told Jasmine as we stood near the back of the crowd and watched the last-minute preparations fall into place. She glanced over at me and my efforts to rearrange the folds of my long, gauzy dress.
“You’re pregnant,” she stated. “Everything makes you look fat.”
I scowled. “I think the correct response was, ‘No it doesn’t.’”
Jasmine shrugged, feeling no remorse for her blunt honesty. “It’s not that bad. And it’s just in your stomach.” She eyed me critically. “And maybe your chest.”
I sighed, knowing some of what she said was true. I was so active that I’d really put on no weight that wasn’t essential for the pregnancy. And yeah, I knew I wasn’t
that
big yet, but standing here—especially next to Jasmine’s slim figure—I was again reminded of the hard truth: I was no longer the one in charge of my body.
“Your Majesty?”
A new voice drew me out of my self-pity, and I turned to see a middle-aged gentry woman standing beside me in a velvet gown. She swept me a low curtsy and then straightened up in one graceful motion. Her tawny hair was piled up into an impossibly high hairdo that could only be the result of magical assistance. Rubies glittered at her ears and throat.
“My name is Ilania. I am an ambassador of her royal majesty Varia, queen of the Yew Land. My most gracious and exalted lady sends her well wishes and congratulations on such a joyous occasion.”
I wasn’t familiar with Varia or the Yew Land, but Ilania’s presence didn’t really surprise me. Probably only about a third of the guests here were actually friends or family of the happy couple. The rest were those who, knowing of my regard for Shaya and Rurik, had come to get in good with me and make a show of diplomacy and friendship. Some supported Storm King’s prophecy; some didn’t. Regardless, most—unless they were specifically allied with Maiwenn—wanted to make sure they weren’t on my bad side.
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s nice of you. Both of you.” I groped for diplomatic small talk. “I hope you didn’t have to travel too far?”
Ilania made a dismissive gesture, showing what nonsense that was. “No journey would be too far to send my lady’s regard. In fact, she has entrusted me with this most precious gift as a sign of her friendship.”
Two servants in what must be Yew uniforms appeared, carrying a statue made of a marbleized green and white stone. The statue was a little shorter than me and depicted a unicorn balancing a fish on its nose and a butterfly on its horn. Odd choice.
“Um, thank you. I’m sure Shaya and Rurik will find a great place for this in their bedroom.”
“Oh, no.” Ilania chuckled. “This is for you, Your Majesty. And actually, we brought two—one for each of your lands. I also have one for King Dorian, whom I’m most excited to meet. Since we don’t travel here very often, we wanted to make sure to extend our friendship to as many as possible. Don’t worry,” she added. “Each of the statues is different. All are made of damarian jade, but we’d hardly give you all identical designs. That would be tacky.”
“Right,” I agreed, eyeing the unicorn and its friends.
“We wouldn’t want tacky.” Her servants seemed restless, so I directed them inside, with instructions to find a servant of mine who would take the statue—or rather, statues—off their hands. Both my castles actually had storerooms for gifts like this. I’d learned a long time ago that even if I had no intention of displaying or using some royal gift, it was always best to keep it around in case the giver ever paid a visit.
“I can’t wait to see what you offer in return,” added Ilania. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”
I blinked. “Er ... I’m sorry, what?”
She laughed merrily. “Surely you know about our land’s custom? We exchange gifts to emphasize our bonds of friendships. We’ll proudly display the offerings from your kingdoms, just as I know you’ll display ours.”
“Of course,” I said, making a mental note to tell the servants to dredge up some acceptable gifts. Keeping up with gentry etiquette boggled the mind. “We’ll make arrangements for you to take them when you leave.”
Ilania glanced around us conspiratorially and then stepped in closer to Jasmine and me. “My most gracious queen also has another gift for you—or rather, an offer.”
“Oh?” I asked carefully. The gentry loved wheeling and dealing, and I wasn’t surprised that a gift and offer of friendship would come with strings attached.
Ilania nodded. “My queen knows of your ... situation.” She gave my stomach a not-so-subtle look, just in case there was any question about what my “situation” was. “As the ruler of many kingdoms, Queen Varia has no interest in the prophecy or any stake in conquering other—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Did you say she rules other kingdoms? How many is she bound to?” Gaining control of a kingdom in the Otherworld was no small thing. A binding took place between the monarch and the land itself, one that required considerable strength on the ruler’s part. It was such a great feat, in fact, that no other monarch besides me had been able to pull it off in recent history. At least, that’s what I’d been told. Discovering someone who ruled an additional kingdom—multiple ones, allegedly—was huge.
“She isn’t bound to them, not exactly,” explained Ilania. “Rather, she rules them. Their own monarchs have agreed to become subject kingdoms to her. So, technically, those monarchs are bound to the land, but they happily acknowledge Varia as their high queen.”
I glanced over at Jasmine. She looked just as surprised as I felt. I’d never heard of anything like this, a kingdom willingly subjugating itself to another. The Yew Land and its neighbors were far away from my own, so it wasn’t entirely surprising that this hadn’t reached me before. Still, it was odd.
Ilania seemed to take our stunned silence for awe. “With so many allies around her, my queen’s territory is vast and safe. We know that you’re under constant threat here—even in your own kingdom.” She paused to allow a couple of soldiers to pass us, proving her point. “My queen would like to extend her hospitality to you and provide a haven in which you can safely have your children. And, in fact, if you so desired, they would be welcome to stay there afterward as long as you wished. My queen’s forces and power would ensure no harm befalls them, as would the distance from your enemies.”
It was true that my greatest adversaries were, unfortunately, also my close neighbors. I didn’t like the rest of her implications, though. Ilania was essentially saying that my own resources weren’t enough to keep me and the twins safe but that her overlord queen could.
“Why would she offer this?” I asked, again suspicious of any gentry kindness.
“My queen is also a mother and is appalled to see these constant attacks on you and the unborn. She finds them cowardly and wrong.” Ilania smiled sweetly. “And, as I was saying, my lady is well content with her own lands. She has no interest in the prophecy and its promise of conquering the human world. She is, however, interested in maintaining friendly relations with another woman possessed of power and command. It’s very dreary for her, having so few equals to talk to.”
“I can imagine,” I muttered. Around us, harried servants were trying to organize the assembled throng into some type of order. “Look, things are about to get started, so I have to take my place. Send my thanks back to your queen, but tell her I’m happy to stay where I’m at for now. We’ve done a pretty good job at keeping me safe so far.” Ohio adventures aside.
Ilania curtsied again. “As you wish, Your Majesty. My lady urged me to tell you, should that be your answer, that her offer will still stand if you change your mind.”
I reiterated my thanks and then hurried off with Jasmine toward the front of the crowd. “That was weird,” Jasmine remarked.
“The offer, not so much,” I said. “Everyone’s always maneuvering for position around here. But that stuff about other kingdoms?
That’s
weird.”
I had no time to ponder the Yew Land further because once things got going, they were going. As the presiding monarch here, I had a front-row spot. Dorian stood near me, both because of his rank and connection to the couple. They’d originally been in his service and had come to mine when I’d seized control of the Thorn Land. Other monarchs were arranged accordingly in a complex system of status that I didn’t entirely follow but which wedding planners had been agonizing over for weeks. Jasmine, as my relative but not a reigning monarch, was a couple rows away. Beside me, Dorian gave me one of his rogue smiles, and it was hard not to smile back. Whatever animosity existed between us, it was easy to put aside for this occasion, particularly since almost a week had passed since our fight over Ohio. Besides, if anyone was going to be able to give me answers about the Yew Land and its subjugated kingdoms, it would be Dorian.
Gentry religion was never anything I’d managed to get much of a grasp on, particularly since my hold on human religion was already pretty loose. From what I’d learned, gentry beliefs were polytheistic and nature-oriented, with specific practices and doctrine that varied widely by region. A priest of some sort was presiding today, but I’d been told he was mostly there to lend authority as a witness and officiant and that religion would have little role in the ceremony.
Another gentry custom was made apparent as soon as the couple appeared. There was no giving-away of the bride, nor did she even walk the aisle alone. Shaya and Rurik walked together through the crowd, hand in hand, making their way to the arch of roses as equals. Few gentry even bothered with weddings, but those who did regarded them—rightfully—as occasions of great joy and didn’t believe white was an appropriately cheerful color. So, Shaya wore a silk gown of deep rosy pink and had given up her usual braids to wear her long black hair loose down her back. It contrasted dramatically with Rurik’s pale, blond features, but their expressions of happiness were a perfect match.
The ceremony was as short and sweet as I’d been told it would be, mostly a recitation of the couple’s commitment to each other. The two of them getting together was still kind of incredible to me, seeing as they were so different. Shaya was always reserved and responsible. Rurik was arrogant and crude. Yet, somehow, they’d made it work and reached this point.
“Why, Eugenie,” said Dorian, once the vows were complete and the crowd had erupted into cheers, “are you tearing up? I never took you for the sentimental type.”
“No,” I snapped, running a hasty hand across my eyes. “It’s just hormones. They make me do stupid things.”
“Right,” he said, in a tone that clearly told me he didn’t believe me at all.
“Your Majesties.”
Shaya and Rurik stood before us, bowing low. Custom dictated that the new husband and wife present themselves to their liege lady before they could go on to their family and friends. They’d kind of rolled Dorian into the deal too since they still regarded him as their ruler to a certain extent. I thought the custom was kind of silly. Why should the couple come to us for a blessing? This was about them. We had nothing to do with it. Still, I’d long since learned not to fight against gentry etiquette and surprised Shaya with a big hug.
BOOK: Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4
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