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Authors: Richelle Mead

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“It’s finally going to rain,” I said.
Evan stopped beside me and glanced up as well. “I didn’t hear anything about it. Look—there isn’t even a cloud in the sky.”
It was true. There was nothing but open blue above us, paired with a merciless sun. Yet, I
knew
there would be a storm before the day was out. I could feel it with every part of my being. The air hummed with it. Remembering Ohio, I had a brief moment of panic that this unexpected storm might be magically induced. I took a deep breath and felt out its true nature. No, this was the real deal. A natural shift in weather that was much needed.
“Just wait,” I promised Evan as we continued walking. “You’ll see.”
He gave me an indulgent smile but made no secret of the fact that he didn’t buy it.
A sign at the visitor’s center said the plantation was closed today, making me think our trip had been in vain. Evan continued, undaunted, and knocked on the door.
“Wanda?” he called. “You around?”
A few moments later, the door opened, and a tiny gray-haired woman appeared. “Why, Evan. I wondered if you’d make it.”
“I told you I would,” he said, giving her a quick hug. “Wanda, this is Eugenie. She’s staying with Aunt Candy and Uncle Chuck right now. Eugenie, Wanda.”
Wanda pushed her silver-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose and beamed at me. “You are very welcome here, darling. The house is open if you want to go look around. I know you remember the way, Evan.”
“Sure do,” he said. “Thanks for letting us come by. I promise not to mess anything up.”
“You better not,” she teased.
I gave him a look of wonder as we made our way to the house. “Do you know everyone around here?” I’d noticed similar receptions in my time with him, but being given full access to a site like this was pretty remarkable.
He chuckled and opened the front door for me. “It’s one of the perks of settling in one place so long. You don’t just get to know people—you practically become family.”
We spent almost two hours going through the house. It was a huge place, with room after room that had been restored and furnished with period items. Most everything was labeled with small placards too, overloading my brain with more history than I could handle. The plantation’s more sinister side and history of slavery continued to bother me, but I could see that Evan was right about the importance of learning about the past.
After finally seeing all there was to see, we returned to one of the grand sitting rooms. I rested on a small bench and admired the setting. Taking in the rich details and lush fabrics, I couldn’t help but think this room would’ve fit seamlessly into some gentry palace. Evan eyed me with concern.
“You up for seeing some of the outside buildings? We can head out if you’re tired.”
The truth was, I
was
tired. I firmly told myself it was simply from knowledge overload and depressing history—and not because pregnancy was wearing me down. “Let’s at least take a quick look,” I said, refusing to show any weakness. “It’d be a shame not to after coming all the way out here.”
“Okay,” he agreed. He held out a hand to help me up, and I accepted. As we walked toward the door, a wave of cold hit me—and it wasn’t from the plantation’s cooling system, either. In fact, it was exactly the kind of cold spot I’d been trying to explain to that guy on the phone the other day.
“Did you feel that?” I asked, coming to a stop.
Evan gave me a curious look. “No. What was it?”
“A cold spot.” Yet, even as I said it, the spot moved, and I was back in the room’s previous temperature. I studied the room, looking for some sign of the source. Evan followed my gaze. Even with basic training, he understood the significance of a cold spot.
“There,” he murmured, pointing to a corner.
I’d almost overlooked it. In a roped-off alcove filled with furniture, a ghost stood between a clock and a sofa. He was so still and so translucent from the sunlight that he was difficult to spot. He had a forked beard and wore an old-fashioned suit with a bow tie. He watched us warily but made no movements.
“That’s an old ghost,” I said. “Judging from the clothes. Probably been around since this place was built. Of course, if that’s the case, he probably doesn’t bother many people—or else someone would’ve called Candace long before this.”
Evan shifted uncomfortably, a small frown wrinkling his forehead. “True. But it doesn’t matter. She’d still say he should have been banished a long time ago. It isn’t right for him to be tied to this world.”
“Also true,” I admitted. “We can let her know, and she can come back.”
To my surprise, Evan produced a wand from his pocket. It was similar to mine—which I’d left with Roland—save that the gemstones tied to its wooden base were different. “I can do it now,” he said.
“You carry a wand with you?” I asked, kind of impressed.
He shrugged. “Aunt Candy says be prepared. You better step away.”
I started to say I had nothing to fear from a mild-mannered ghost like this but then remembered that this wasn’t my show. Besides, even though this ghost seemed pretty localized, it was better if I didn’t draw attention to myself—not that there seemed to be any danger of that. From the way the ghost had now fixed his steely gaze on Evan, it was obvious who had been identified as the threat. I moved to the room’s far side.
“Send him to the Underworld if you can,” I said.
Evan nodded and extended the wand. I felt its magic fill the room as he attempted to open a gate that would send the ghost away. Before he’d really even opened up past this world, the ghost attacked with a fury that neither of us had expected. Since the ghost had seemed so docile, I’d figured he would take his banishing meekly.
No such luck. He shifted to a flying form and threw himself forward, knocking Evan to the ground and immediately shutting down the tentative gate. Evan had remarkably fast reflexes and rolled to avoid the ghost’s next blow. Spying a silver candlestick, Evan leapt up and grabbed it with his free hand and then took a swing at the ghost. It was a smart move. A silver blade was better, but any silver object wielded as a weapon by someone with enough skill and magic to use it correctly could cause damage. Sure enough, though the candlestick seemed to pass harmlessly through the ghost’s translucent form, he howled in rage and retreated out of reach.
Evan used the opportunity to attempt his gate. I felt the tingle of magic once more, soon followed by a connection to the Otherworld. With that connection, my earlier need for the Thorn Land and Rowan Land flared up with startling intensity. They were so close ... but still out of my reach. I bit my lip and forced myself to stay still. Despite the connection, Evan was taking my advice and sending his senses farther, forming an opening to the Underworld. The ghost snarled as he recognized what Evan was doing. A ghost could come back from the Otherworld sometimes, but from the realm of death, there was no return.
Knowing it was now or never, the ghost struck again. Evan was ready and dodged the blow, still swinging the candlestick defensively. I felt the connection to the Underworld waver, but he was just barely able to keep hold. His near loss was a sign of his inexperience. Neither Candace nor I would’ve lost a gate that established. Still, he’d pulled it off and began the banishing words. The ghost attacked again, and Evan shifted—realizing too late it had been a feint. Evan moved in the wrong direction, and the ghost quickly picked up a wooden chair and threw it hard at Evan. The chair hit its mark, knocking Evan to the floor once again. The wand fell from his hand, instantly dissolving the connection.
The wand rolled to a central spot in the room, and I moved without even thinking. The ghost was advancing on Evan. I grabbed the wand and quickly cast an opening to the Underworld. As the magic poured through me, I nearly gasped. I hadn’t realized just how long I’d gone without it. Shamanic magic didn’t have the addictiveness of gentry magic, but it still had a sweet, pleasurable feeling I’d missed.
The ghost turned to me in surprise, not having expected me to offer a challenge. He abandoned Evan but wasn’t fast enough to reach me before I spoke the banishing and sent him on. The ghost dissolved before our eyes, screaming in fury as it finally went where it should have long ago. Soon the screams were gone too, and we were alone. I hurried over to Evan, who was already getting to his feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously.
I almost laughed. “Me? You’re the one who just got tossed around by a ghost. Look at your arm.” One of the chair legs had caught his arm at a bad angle, leaving a bloody gash. It likely wouldn’t need stitches but was still ugly.
“I’m fine,” he said. He righted the chair and gave it a quick survey for damage. There was none, meaning he wouldn’t get in trouble with Wanda. “I’ve never seen a banishing that fast. I don’t even think Aunt Candy can do it.”
“It just takes practice,” I assured him, not wanting to make a big deal of it. Evan knew I had a shamanic background, but I didn’t want the extent of my power made that obvious. “Come on—we should get home.” I was already looking back on what I’d done with regret. In that moment, there’d been no question. I’d
had
to help Evan. But in doing so, I’d exposed myself.
Candace’s grim face confirmed as much when we got back to her place. “That ghost won’t tell any tales in the Underworld, at least,” she said with a sigh. “And if he was tied to that house, it’s unlikely he had contact with anyone who might be after you.”
“That’s what I was hoping,” I said.
“Still. You shouldn’t have done it, if only because you and those little ones could have been hurt.” Her gaze lifted toward the kitchen, where Charles was bandaging up Evan. “He’s got a lot to learn, but he’s tougher than he looks.”
“I know,” I said, feeling terrible. The ride home had given me a lot of time to consider my actions. One of the twins chose that moment to kick, just in case it wasn’t obvious that I’d put them at risk. “I just reacted. He was in trouble, and the wand was right there.”
Candace’s look was almost sympathetic as she rested a hand on my arm. “I know. And I know that’s your nature—especially if you’re anything like Roland. That man never did know how to stay out of trouble. But for now, you’ve got to let go. Next time you fight a ghost, it may tell the ones who are after you where you’re at.”
I nodded meekly. Further conversation was put on hold as Charles and Evan rejoined us. Evan stopped in the doorway to the living room and pointed at the TV set. “That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”
I turned and saw a news report on a grocery store robbery in Tucson. The security camera footage was spotty, frequently going to static, but it showed a few bizarre shots of what looked like items flying off the shelves. Eyewitness reports were equally odd, and if I hadn’t known it was completely impossible, I would’ve thought the store had been hit by a ghost. But a ghost had no use for money—or, in this case, food, since that’s what had been stolen.
“Weird,” I said, once the story ended. If some other type of Otherworldly creature had been involved, I had no doubt Roland would deal with it. Knowing that made me feel even more ineffectual. Roland had theoretically retired, but my various actions over the last year had forced him to take on the role of an active shaman once more.
“It is,” remarked Candace. “But it hardly fits the usual—”
Her jaw dropped as a low rumbling sound filled the house. All of us stared at each other in confusion. Another rumble sounded, just as I saw the living room windows light up. My senses were suddenly flooded, seconds before the others realized what was happening.
“It’s raining,” exclaimed Evan. He hurried to the door, the rest of us right behind him.
Out on the porch, we watched in wonder as rain poured down in sheets while lightning ripped apart the sky. A fierce wind picked up, blowing the rain at us, but nobody cared. Charles laughed and stepped off the porch, holding his hands skyward.
“This’ll fix my garden right up,” he declared.
Evan turned to me in amazement. “You were right. She said this would happen, Aunt Candy. This afternoon—the sky was clear blue, and she swore there’d be a storm.”
Candace smiled and turned to watch Charles, oblivious to the true nature of my insight. “I guess some people just have a knack for the weather.”
“You have no idea,” I murmured.
Chapter 9
Despite our conclusions that I
probably
hadn’t raised any notice in the Otherworld, I still spent the next week on pins and needles. I jumped at shadows, expecting gentry assassins to come bursting through my window at any moment. Candace played it cool and casual as usual, but I noticed she too was more watchful than before. One evening, a friend of hers came by, a wizened woman with an accent so thick I could barely understand her. Candace claimed the friend was visiting for tea, but later, I noticed them walking around the yard. I never asked Candace about it, but I suspected her friend was a witch who had laid some protective wards for us.
My worries continued to be unfounded, and that slow, easy life resumed. Even doing customer service for Candace became more comfortable, and I simply learned to take the silliness in stride. Probably the part of my life that continued to bother me most was my longing for my kingdoms. I would often wake up in the middle of the night with a burning in my chest and tears in my eyes. I’d remember the clean, crisp perfume of the deserts of the Thorn Land or the soft, rolling hills of the Rowan Land. Most of the need was still on my own side, but every once in a while, I’d sense a faint whisper, as though the lands were starting to miss me too.
To my surprise, I also found myself missing Dorian. After finding out I was pregnant, I’d seen him almost every week in the Otherworld. Not having his sarcasm and wit around anymore seemed weird, leaving an empty spot within me. Weirder still was that, aside from that last idyllic week, he and I hadn’t really spent much tender or recreational time together. It had always been business, making plans for our kingdoms and figuring out how best to thwart Maiwenn and Kiyo. Nonetheless, I’d simply gotten used to having him around. No matter our personal differences, we worked well as a team.
Occasionally, more troubling thoughts about him would plague me. Lying in bed at night, sweating from the Alabama heat, I’d find myself sifting back farther in my memories, to the time when he and I had been involved. I was rapidly reaching a point in my pregnancy where sex sounded like the least appealing thing ever. But in my memories, it was still easy. There had been a lot of nights in the Thorn Land, when Dorian had been with me and we’d lain in bed in similar kinds of heat, sweaty and restless. Even in those conditions, we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off of each other. His skin had felt like fire against mine as he moved in me, his mouth equally hot wherever it touched me. The heat around us had seemed inconsequential to that between us.
Recalling that night did more than just torment my body. It tormented my mind. I still hadn’t gotten over the way he and I had parted.
Dorian still cares about me. Dorian maybe even loves me
.
How did I feel about that? How did I feel about him?
Although the weather in Huntsville remained hot, summer was winding down, and with its end, Evan would be returning to school. He began spending more time with me, still in that polite, hands-off way. Sometimes I’d catch him looking at me in a manner that made me nervous, and I feared some outpouring of affection. It never came, showing he was just as patient and content as he’d claimed to be. He further proved the point while we were out fishing one day.
I’d never been fishing before. It wasn’t something you really did a lot of in Tucson. We were out on a small, quiet lake ringed in willows, in a no-frills motorboat that had just enough room for us, our catch, and a cooler stocked with Coke, juice, and Milky Ways. Evan was very critical about everything we caught, and it was important to him that we caught no more than we could eat. Anything else was a waste, he declared.
“Uncle Chuck makes a mean batter for these,” Evan told me. “We can have a fish fry tonight.”
That sounded great to me then and there. I was starving, but then, I always seemed to be lately. My appetite had shot up out of nowhere these last couple weeks, much to Candace’s delight. While I certainly didn’t try to halt my eating, every extra bite was a reminder that I was going to get bigger and bigger. As it was, my weight had shot up exponentially too. It was still mostly confined to my stomach, but every day, I felt a little slower and a little more uncomfortable.
I finished off a Milky Way to curb my hunger, fully knowing no obstetrician would endorse it as sound nutrition. I chased it with a thermos of cider, giving me a brief flashback to the Oak Land harvest parties. Those bonfires and crisp nights, paired with Dorian’s smile, seemed like a lifetime away.
“I think there are some rules about pregnancy and fish,” I told Evan, returning to the present. “It’s probably in one of the pamphlets the doctors gave me.”
“Ah, that’d be a shame,” Evan said, casting his line out. A breeze off the water eased some of the heat and ruffled his hair. “If you can’t have any now, we’ll make sure you have a double helping after the babies come. If you’re still here, that is. Have you thought much about it?”
I watched my own bobber drift lazily in the water. As far as I could tell, I was doing exactly what he was with technique, but he kept catching more fish. “Honestly, no. Mostly I’m just trying to get through the pregnancy, but I’ll have to figure out the rest soon enough.” I sighed. “Do you think I should stick around?” It was a foolish question, I realized, seeing as he didn’t have nearly enough background to understand the consequences of that decision.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what I think. I like having you here, but in the end you have to do what you want and what you think is best.”
I almost laughed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”
“What’s that? To do what you want?” His bobber disappeared in the water, and he gave the line an experimental tug, revealing he’d indeed hooked another fish. Damn. How’d he keep doing that?
“Yup,” I said. “I’ve had a lot of well-meaning people in my life, but most haven’t been shy about telling me what they think I should do.”
Evan reeled the fish in and deemed its size adequate. “People will always do that—and you said the magic words.
Well-meaning
. Most have good intentions for you at heart, but only you can make the final call.”
I thought back to the last time I’d seen Kiyo, when he’d been trying to kill me in an effort to stop our children from being born. That didn’t really qualify as “good intentions.” Dorian’s heavy-handed protection of me had looked out for my well-being, but it had been tainted with his own ambition. If push came to shove, I still wasn’t sure if he’d side with me or the prophecy. And yet, even as I thought that, I remembered our last meeting, when Dorian had admitted to having no ulterior motives, save to make me happy and rebuild our trust. It was hard to know what to believe anymore.
Evan assessed our tally for the day and decided we had enough fish. “Don’t want to be greedy,” he said with a wink. “Need the fish to keep making more fish. Now we’ll find out if you’re allowed to have the best fried fish in the state.”
A little Internet searching back at the house provided info on fish types and local waters that declared I could eat small quantities. Fortunately, the Reeds made an abundance of side dishes and desserts that ensured what I lacked in fish, I could definitely make up for. I went to bed happy and full, still turning over Evan’s words about doing what I thought was best. Such a novel concept.
The next day, I was left alone for most of the afternoon while everyone else tended to their own affairs. E-mail and calls were few, though Candace assured me we’d see a surge when summer truly ended and people spent more time inside. So, it was another reading day for me, and I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could on my bed, something else that was becoming more difficult with my size. No breeze came in to cool the afternoon heat, and I mostly found myself growing sleepy.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped sharply in the room, raising goose bumps on my skin. I’d been nodding off but instantly opened my eyes, wide awake. There was nothing natural about this.
Shit
, I thought, sitting up. Here it was, the attack we’d been dreading. And I was weaponless because I wasn’t supposed to be practicing any magic. Well, I didn’t need tools to use my gentry magic. If they were bringing the fight to me, then there was no need to remain covert—
“Volusian?” I asked in disbelief. Red eyes and a small black body materialized in the room’s darkest corner, which really wasn’t all that dark this time of day. He glared at the sunlit window in irritation. I’d been a heartbeat away from summoning a storm in the room and immediately stopped myself.
“Mistress,” he said in his flat tone.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “I commanded you not to come!”
I also hadn’t told him where I was, but that made no difference. With his bonds of service, Volusian would always be able to locate me. Still, I figured not giving him any concrete information beforehand would be useful, in the event someone attempted to wrestle control of him from me. Likewise, I’d commanded him to avoid the Otherworld altogether, in the hopes of keeping him off the radars of those who might try to use him.
“Yes, mistress,” he agreed. “And were it up to me, I assure you, I would stay out of your presence for as long as possible, unless I was coming to end your life and rip you limb from limb.”
“Well, that’s very thoughtful,” I said. “And yet, here you are.”
“Others forced me to, mistress.”
I’d nearly relaxed, but this set me on high alert again. Sending my mind out, I tested the magical bonds that kept him under my control, half expecting them to have vanished. But no, we were still solidly connected.
“Rest assured, mistress, I am still enslaved to you,” he said, guessing what I’d done.
“Then how the hell did others force you to come here?”
“With enough magic, it is possible to compel me to obey small commands while still bound to you,” he explained.
“That would take
a lot
of magic,” I said. Commanding Volusian full-time was difficult enough. Overriding that bond—even for a small order—was equally difficult. “I can’t think of any one gentry who could pull that off.”
“One gentry didn’t,” said Volusian. “King Dorian and Queen Maiwenn worked together to force me to come to you.”
I had to replay his words a few times before I finally believed them. “Dorian and Maiwenn?
Worked together?
They’d never do that. You must be confused.”
Volusian’s eyes narrowed. “Do I look as though I get easily confused, mistress?”
“No ... but ... it doesn’t make any sense... .”
Oh, sure. Dorian and Maiwenn were both extremely powerful, and I didn’t doubt that together, they could send Volusian to me. I also knew they each had valid reasons for it. Dorian had never approved of me running off here, and Maiwenn ... well, she wanted to kill me. Yet, those reasons didn’t exactly mesh with each other enough to explain why those two would unite.
“What exactly did they command you to do?”
“To come to you, mistress, and tell you they have a message for you. They also told me the message—”
“Did they command you to actually tell me the exact message?” I demanded.
“No, but—”
“Then don’t,” I said, relieved I wouldn’t have to magically counteract them. “That’s an order.”
Volusian’s face remained typically expressionless. “My mistress is not curious?”
“No,” I lied. I was terribly curious. But, I also didn’t want to be swayed by anything those two had to say. I didn’t want to hear Dorian’s pleas about me coming back, no matter how well-intentioned he might be—partially because I was afraid I might want to give in. I also didn’t want to find out what Maiwenn’s role was in this. If she’d convinced Dorian to work with her, then maybe she had some song to sing about how she’d seen the errors of her ways and no longer had a hit out on me. I certainly didn’t believe that, and honestly, I had a difficult time imagining him buying it either.
Some worried part of me wondered if maybe it wasn’t about me and the prophecy after all. What if something had happened to Jasmine? In that case, Dorian would have found a way to tell Roland, and I
had
to believe my stepfather would’ve gotten that news to me. I supposed the other possibility was that something was wrong with my lands. Maybe they were suffering from my absence more than I’d realized. Yet, when I touched those threads that connected us—even across worlds—I felt nothing particularly concerning. I was still joined to my kingdoms and had sensed none of the desperate longing from them that I had in the past when I’d left them with no caretaker. Honestly, I sensed no emotion at all from the lands. If anything, the connection felt kind of numbed, probably from my absence. Still, it was there, and it was steady.
“No,” I repeated. “I can’t. I can’t hear what they have to say. I’ve got a good thing going here. This is the right place for me to be, and I can’t let anything ruin it right now.”
“As my mistress wishes,” Volusian replied. “Do you have any further commands for me then?”
“Just the same ones as before. Avoid the Otherworld. Don’t come here again. Unless ...” Inspiration hit. “If they try to summon you, come here immediately if you’re able.” I didn’t know if Dorian and Maiwenn would attempt the feat again, but it would require a complicated set of spells. If Volusian could get to me first, I could probably strengthen our bond to prevent others’ influence. “Come to me if
anyone
attempts to summon or compel you. Do you understand?”
BOOK: Shadow Heir: A Dark Swan Novel#4
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