Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4 (35 page)
Read Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4 Online
Authors: Richelle Mead
Evan shook his head. “That’s an ugly choice.”
I stared off at the dark window without really seeing it. “Not telling him now eases a lot of problems—except, one of the biggest issues between us has been about the importance of honesty and rebuilding trust. I’m especially always going off on that. What kind of hypocrite would I be to push for that and then keep something like this from him?”
Evan was silent for a few moments. “So ... you’re getting back together.”
I looked up at him, only then realizing what my words meant. Evan still wore that everything-is-okay look, but I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes. There’d been no promises between us, but he’d still had his hopes pinned on me when I returned.
“Evan, I—”
He held up his hand and gave me a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s what you want, and I’m happy for you. It has no effect on what I do for these kids.”
I still wanted to apologize but instead held back and respected his wishes. Going on and on about how sorry I was, making excuses ... well, that wouldn’t make him feel better. It would only make me feel better. He would have to process this in his own time.
“How long would you keep them from him?” Evan asked, returning to my dilemma.
“I don’t know. Years. Maybe until their teens.” I groaned. “God, that sounds awful just saying that. What kind of person even considers something like this?”
“Someone who loves their children,” he said bluntly.
“Would he forgive me when he finds out?” I asked bleakly. “Would
you
? You wouldn’t be happy to find out your girlfriend had been hiding something like this for years.”
you
? You wouldn’t be happy to find out your girlfriend had been hiding something like this for years.”
“No,” Evan agreed. “I’d be pretty upset. But I’d also be overjoyed to see my children healthy, safe, and well.”
I stood up and paced toward the cribs. “Would that be enough? Would it make up for the lie?”
He thought about it. “I don’t know.”
I looked between the two sleeping forms, and that’s when the tears started. I wasn’t a crier. With Pagiel’s death and even in some of the more hormonal moments of pregnancy, my tears had been pretty minimal. Now, they were an onslaught as all the hurt I’d been holding within me for so long burst out. I cried for Dorian, for the secret I would have to keep from him. I cried for Isaac and Ivy, who would spend a good part of their life never knowing the truth about their parents. And I cried for myself, because I was going to hurt every day I was apart from my children.
Evan put his arms around me and let me cry into his chest. He didn’t try to tell me everything would be okay, and I was grateful for that.
“I don’t want to leave them,” I sobbed.
“I know,” he said.
I sniffed. “I’ve never had to make decisions this hard before ... and believe me, I’ve had to make some pretty tough ones.”
Evan nodded. “That’s because they were always about you. Everything changes when someone else’s life is in your hands.”
Chapter 29
My kingdoms welcomed me back, both the lands themselves and the people. Everyone was in good spirits. Most of the destruction had been repaired, and increases in both our own crops and those imported from the unblighted kingdoms were making rations less strict. In the Otherworld, the relationship between monarch and land was viewed as a sacred bond. In many ways, people saw their monarch as an extension of the land—which perhaps wasn’t so far off. What it meant was that much of the credit for the land’s rebirth was laid at my feet. I wanted to brush off the praise—particularly since I felt a lot of our success was the result of my clever servants—but I was told it was a futile goal.
I’d spent a couple joyous—but bittersweet—weeks in Huntsville before a quick stay in Tucson led me back to the Otherworld. I’d left Alabama with a gift from Candace: a baby book with records of early development, pictures, and even tiny locks of the twins’ wispy hair (which definitely looked reddish). Through a system nearly as complicated as my travel there, she promised to send regular pictures for my book so that the twins wouldn’t be strangers when I saw them again. Dorian might not find out about his offspring for a while, but I planned on checking in on them when I could.
No one mentioned him at all in the Thorn Land, so I finally cracked and brought him up to Shaya while we were inspecting a garden filled with flowering cacti. The mesquite trees were also in bloom, filling the air with a sweet, heady scent. Tucson was heading into winter soon, and while that was a pretty mild season for them, it made me appreciate the Thorn Land’s perpetually perfect climate that much more.
“Has Dorian, um, asked about me?”
She’d been studying a retaining wall with a critical eye and looked up in surprise. “No, not that I know of. I’ve only seen him once since you left. Someone else asked him about you, though, and he simply said that you had important things to tend to and would return in your own time.” She hesitated, never one to really advise on my personal affairs. “I think ... I think he’s waiting for you, Your Majesty.”
He’s waiting for you
. He’d told me that before I left. Dorian had laid everything out for me. He’d proved his love and loyalty over and over. I’d told Evan I was getting back together with Dorian. I’d even sort of accepted it in my head. But something inside me kept holding back. I had yet to act and needed to. Dorian had opened his heart to me. It was time for me to answer.
. He’d told me that before I left. Dorian had laid everything out for me. He’d proved his love and loyalty over and over. I’d told Evan I was getting back together with Dorian. I’d even sort of accepted it in my head. But something inside me kept holding back. I had yet to act and needed to. Dorian had opened his heart to me. It was time for me to answer.
I skipped protocol and traveled to the Oak Land by myself. My safety might not be an immediate concern anymore, but status said I should have an escort. I liked the alone time, though, and smiled when I saw some of the Oak Land’s trees touched with the fiery hue of autumn. Dorian wasn’t quite ready to let it slip into the season he loved, but it was getting closer.
As I approached his castle, I spared a brief moment to wonder if I should have worn gentry attire. I was in one of my favorite outfits, jeans and a Def Leppard shirt. No, I decided. This was who I was. I wouldn’t try to create an image that was more than that. Just before entering the castle, however, I did put on a crown he’d once given me. It was a delicate little thing, tiny gold roses and emeralds. I liked it because it was from him and because it wasn’t too showy.
I received a warm welcome from the guards and was led outside through one of the back entrances. I expected to find Dorian in one of the many courtyards he spent his time in but was instead taken farther out on the grounds, finally ushered into a small, pretty clearing ringed in the trees that had given the Oak Land its name. Several members of Dorian’s court sat around in the grass on blankets, making a picnic of the sunny day. Their focus was on the clearing’s center, which contained a medium-sized pond. A path of very small stepping stones extended across the water, stopping at about the middle. There, balancing on one foot on the farthest stone, was Muran. He was sweating visibly, but I doubted it was from the heat.
Dorian stood near the edge like some kind of mad ringmaster, the sunlight setting his long hair ablaze. With an elegant gesture, he made a rock float through the air and settle in the water in front of Muran. The servant—who had been starting to waver—gratefully jumped onto the new rock with his other foot.
“Eugenie, Queen of Rowan and Thorn,” announced the herald.
Dorian looked over at me with surprise that quickly turned to joy. It was such a rare outpouring of affection from his normally lazy smile that I felt weak in the knees.
“My dear,” he said. “You’re just in time. I was demonstrating the amazing bridge feat we conducted on our journey to the Yew Land. Muran is assisting me.” Another rock landed in front of Muran who immediately jumped on it one-footed.
It was perhaps one of the more ridiculous things I’d seen Dorian do with Muran—and I’d seen some pretty ridiculous things. I laughed out loud. I was suddenly so happy to see Dorian, I thought my heart would burst. Our life had been filled with so many complications that I hadn’t allowed myself to really feel or acknowledge how I felt. I had loved him for some time, I realized, and wasn’t going to deny my feelings anymore.
Ignoring propriety, I ran up to him and threw my arms around him. I kissed him hard, a kiss he didn’t hesitate to return with equal ardency. One of his hands rested on my hip, the other on my hair. He pulled me as close as we could possibly get while clothed, and my whole body turned to fire from that kiss. I felt like it would consume me, and I welcomed it.
Public displays of affection were perfectly normal among the gentry, but I had never made any secret of my disdain for them. I’d always rejected them, no matter how much Dorian tried to coax me. Right now, I really didn’t care who was watching. It was actually kind of a surprise that he was the one who pulled back from the kiss, though his grip on me didn’t lessen at all.
“This,” he said, “might be the most astonishing thing that’s happened in a while.”
I gazed up at him, momentarily caught in the green of his eyes that our children were already starting to inherit. “I missed you,” I said simply.
His lips twisted into a smile. “Even so, I’m not quite sure what I’ve done to deserve a welcome like that.”
“What haven’t you done?” I asked, echoing his constant “What wouldn’t I do for you?” rhetoricals.
“Um, Your Majesty ...”
Muran’s voice was tremulous, and glancing over, I saw he was dangerously close to falling into the water. Dorian studied my face a few moments longer before finally turning to see what his servant wanted. “Eh? Oh, that.” With an impatient gesture, Dorian sent a whole set of rocks across the water, completing the path. Muran sprinted across it, sagging with visible relief when he reached the other side. Dorian returned his attention to me.
“I wasn’t sure if you were coming back,” he said. “I figured you had a lot to occupy you in the human world.”
I smiled back. “Yup. But I have a lot to occupy me here too.”
“So I see.” Dorian traced my cheek and then touched the edge of my crown. “Jeans and emeralds. Quite the fashion statement.”
“Story of my life,” I said. “I don’t think I can give up either world. And I can’t give you up either.”
“Well, of course not,” he scoffed, as though I had just said the most absurd thing in the world. “Who could?”
I silenced any more witty Dorian quips with another kiss. His court sighed happily, as though it were the best thing they’d ever seen. It was certainly one of the best things
I’d
experienced in a while. My life was split by two worlds, but he kept me whole. Lost in his arms and his kiss, I could see a whole glorious future with him. The secret of Isaac and Ivy burned within me, and I regretted that dishonesty. At the same time, now that I was with him again, I had serious doubts about whether I’d actually be able to keep the truth from him. Dorian was kind of irresistible.
I’d
experienced in a while. My life was split by two worlds, but he kept me whole. Lost in his arms and his kiss, I could see a whole glorious future with him. The secret of Isaac and Ivy burned within me, and I regretted that dishonesty. At the same time, now that I was with him again, I had serious doubts about whether I’d actually be able to keep the truth from him. Dorian was kind of irresistible.
Whatever decisions I made, however, would be because
I
chose them. I chose to be with him. I chose to be an Arizona shaman. I chose to be Queen of Rowan and Thorn. My future was mine.
I
chose them. I chose to be with him. I chose to be an Arizona shaman. I chose to be Queen of Rowan and Thorn. My future was mine.
And not some prophecy’s.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2012 by Richelle Mead
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-2788-1
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