Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir (54 page)

I couldn't be certain in the near-darkness, but it looked like Shaya rolled her eyes.

Part of me resented Dorian's presence, though I had to admit that he did a good job in keeping the subject away from Maiwenn and Kiyo. That didn't stop me from thinking about them, of course, but I couldn't help but smile as he entertained the others. Whether it was part of being a king or just something inherently Dorian, he had a powerful charisma about him that could make everyone laugh and stay captivated. With my social reticence, his were skills I admired—and occasionally envied.

As the night wore on, though, I could feel the tequila's effects lessening a little. That wasn't to say I still wasn't drunk as hell; I'd taken down half that bottle myself. But, I wanted to go to bed while I was still in that delirious haze. It didn't stop me from feeling down over Kiyo, but I had to imagine being sober would be worse.

Everyone stood up when I did, and I felt my legs struggle for balance. “Let me assist you,” said Shaya, reaching toward me. Dorian intervened before she could help.

“No, no. Allow me to guide the Thorn Queen to her room. I'd like a few words.” Ysabel's face darkened at this, and he gave her a chastising look. “Oh, stop it. I'll come to you shortly—provided Eugenie will allow me to stay overnight in her castle.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “Come on over. Make yourself at home. Pick out curtains.”

He extended his arm to me, and I decided the indignity of letting Dorian guide me was less than that of me falling over in front of my servants. Ysabel's eyes followed us furiously, and I couldn't blame her. If my boyfriend were taking a drunk woman to her bedroom, I'd be pissed too.

“It was very high-handed of you to think I needed your moral support,” I told him once we were out of earshot of the others.

“Right. You only need the moral support of a bottle,” he teased. “Be honest, Eugenie. Your lover's at the side of a former lover, eagerly awaiting the birth of their child. I'd be distressed as well.”

“Nothing distresses you,” I grumbled. We reached my room, and he followed me in without invitation.

“Plenty of things do,” he said. He frowned, ever so slightly, and it occurred to me he was none too sober himself.

I let go of his arm and walked over to the full-length mirror that stood on one side of the room, edged in gold. I'd pinned up my hair earlier and let it down now, wondering if I wanted to bother with sending Nia for a nightgown or if I'd just sleep in my clothes. Standing there, I stared at my body, thinking again of my mother's claims that I was too skinny. I always argued it was an athletic build. Running my hands over the sides of my stomach and down to my hips, I studied my figure. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was slim.

“I can never do that for him,” I said in a small voice. “I can never give him a baby like she can.”

Dorian strolled over and stood behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Do you want to?”

“I don't know. Kids were never on my radar…it was always a ‘maybe someday' kind of thing. But now…knowing I can't…” My hips and stomach suddenly seemed as unhealthily skinny as my mother had always said. They would remain untouched and infertile, never filling out with the kind of life Maiwenn's had. I would never share that with Kiyo.

I flinched as Dorian reached from behind and placed his hands on the narrowest part of my waist. He rested his head on my shoulder, and I was too weary to shoo him away.

“You speak like someone who's been condemned with infertility or like you've passed your prime.”

“I might as well be.”

“That's not true. You're young. You radiate health and fertility. You could have a dozen children.”

I shook my head slowly. “I can't,” I said sadly. “I
won't.
You know I won't, no matter how much you and every other Otherworldly creature want me to.”

“Maybe you'd have a daughter.”

“I can't take the risk.” I knew I'd never be confiding in him sober. “And what if Kiyo decides he doesn't want that—to be with someone who's always going to be childless? What if he wants more kids? Maybe this baby…Maybe he'll go back to Maiwenn. Maybe…maybe he'll leave me….” I could feel tears forming in my eyes and hated myself for the weakness.

Dorian tightened his grip on my waist. “He'd be a fool. And you'd be a fool to mourn him if he did. You're more than a childbearing vessel.”

“Not the way everyone talks. Not the way you talk.”

To my shock, Dorian spun me around. Still gripping me, he pressed his forehead to mine so that only an inch was between us. I could smell the tequila on his breath, no doubt mirroring my own.

“Eugenie, you're a woman without equal, and no matter how much you annoy the hell out of me and no matter how much I try to get you out of my head—and believe me, both occur regularly—I can't stay away from you. Even if you were barren, I'd take you as my consort in an instant and spend the rest of my life with you—childless, so long as it meant you'd be by my side. I would gladly bring you to my bed with no other thoughts than taking joy from your body. It would be enough.”

I swallowed. “But you're with…I mean, what about…what about Ysabel? She can have kids….”

“Ysabel,” he said dismissively, “is nothing. A pale imitation of you—and not even a good one at that.”

That was harsh of him, but it filled me with something warm and loved and special. I realized then that no matter the bantering, sexual tension, and many schemes, Dorian really was my friend. I also realized that I wanted so badly then for him to kiss me, to crush his body against mine and run his hands along my bare skin. I wanted to have sex with him against the wall, on the bed, on the floor…it honestly didn't matter, so long as our bodies were joined, and I could feel him in me….

Whoa. I jerked away, my heart racing, barely stopping myself from doing something I'd regret. Deciding he was my friend was one thing; jumping into bed was another. I knew it was the tequila and my worry over Kiyo causing this. I didn't want to be with Dorian again; I couldn't be. Even if he claimed it would be for love and pleasure, I knew it could never be that simple. There would always be politics and schemes….

And so, I did the most unsexy thing I could. I summoned Volusian.

The icy, dark presence of my minion caught even Dorian by surprise, and he took a step back. It was the Otherworldly equivalent of a cold shower. Volusian's eyes flicked to him and then turned back to me.

“My mistress requires more intoxication,” he said.

“No.” My magical hold on him trembled ever so slightly. It was nowhere near enough for me to lose control, but the alcohol messed with my power a bit. “I wanted you to go to the Willow Land and see if there's any news.”

“More romantic errands.”

“Just go,” I snapped, trying to sound as harsh and commanding as I could.

As soon as Volusian was gone, Dorian strode angrily to me, all traces of sensuality gone. “That was stupid, Eugenie. You shouldn't have summoned him after drinking so much.”

I turned away from him. “I need to find out what's going on.”

“You need to banish him. You're going to regret keeping him someday.”

“He's useful,” I protested. “I don't need any lectures. You should go to Ysabel now. I don't need any more declarations of love today.”

“Oh?” His light tone returned. “Had a few of those today?”

“Leith,” I admitted. “He came by tonight to profess his undying devotion and see if he had a chance with me.”

Dorian's green eyes watched me carefully. “And?”

“And, of course not. I had to tell him no a few times before he finally got it.”

Dorian didn't bother hiding his satisfaction. “You've broken the poor boy's heart. And his mother's, no doubt. There'll be no ball now. Would you like me to throw one instead?”

“No.” My sadness was turning into irritability. “I want you to leave. Go to Ysabel and paint her or tie her up or whatever it is you do together. I'm tired and want to go to bed. Alone.”

To my surprise, Dorian didn't protest. Much. “As you wish. If you need me, you know where I'll be.”

“It would take a lot for me to interrupt you,” I said dryly.

Dorian gave me one of his knowing, sly smiles and then left without another word. The thought of him going to Ysabel's bed troubled me more than I would have liked. He'd barely been gone a few minutes when Volusian returned.

“Well?” I asked. My stomach was queasy. I didn't know what I wanted to hear.

If it was in Volusian's nature to smile, I swear, he would have. “The servants of the Willow Land report joyfully that their queen has given birth to a daughter. All are healthy and well.”

My body went perfect still, and for a moment, I saw nothing in the room except those glowing red eyes. Finally, I snapped back to myself. “Thank you, Volusian.”

“Does my mistress require me to learn anything else about this joyous occasion?” There was a sneer in his voice.

“No. Go back to Jasmine.
Now
.”

He obeyed, leaving me alone. I sat on the bed for several minutes, thinking of everything and nothing. I felt numb. I felt every emotion in the world. And when I suddenly ripped the air from the room and used it to smash a vase against the wall, I couldn't say if it was because of Dorian or Kiyo.

I tossed and turned that night, surprised I didn't lapse into the alcohol-induced coma I'd kind of hoped for. I finally woke up with the sunrise and decided to leave before too many people noticed. Only a few servants were up and around, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to see Shaya's concerned look or listen to Dorian and Ysabel flirt over breakfast. I didn't want to think about what the two of them had done last night—or why it bothered me so much. I was Dorian's friend. That was enough.

Before leaving, I stuck my head downstairs in the prison. The night shift of guards was still awake and alert, and Volusian kept his emotionless watch in the cell's corner. Jasmine was curled up in a ball, fast asleep, though I could see dried tears on her cheeks. Unguarded in sleep, she seemed very young.

I transitioned back to Tucson, bearing one of the worst hangovers of my life. Despite the fact that it was later in the morning there, my house was as still as the castle had been. Considering the way the cats and dogs watched me expectantly, I had to assume Tim hadn't gotten up to feed them yet. I let the dogs out in the backyard and told the cats they'd have to wait. As for me, I downed two glasses of water and half a bottle of aspirin practically, before collapsing in my room. My own bed provided the comfort the castle's couldn't, and I slept heavily for two hours.

I felt a lot better when I got up, and a shower improved things further. The smells of French toast wafted out to me, and my tormented stomach welcomed the thought of food. I headed out to the kitchen to tell Tim to serve up a double helping and found that he wasn't alone. A girl in her twenties sat at the table, giggling and wearing his
Homeland Security
T-shirt. Tim stood at the stove with the aforementioned French toast, bare-chested in sweatpants and several beaded necklaces.

“Oh, hi,” squeaked the girl.

“Eug! What are you—er, greetings of the morning, Sister Eugenie.” Tim held up his palm. “I did not realize you were home.”

I rolled my eyes, having no patience for his routine this morning. I poured myself a cup of coffee. “I hope you've got real maple syrup.”

He handed me over a plate of French toast, fresh off the stove. I think it had been intended for his lady friend, but he knew better. I found the maple syrup in the refrigerator, doused the toast liberally, and then headed back out to the living room without another word to either of them. A few minutes later, Tim scurried in, looking sheepish.

“You know you aren't supposed to bring them home,” I said.

“Yeah, I know. It's just…well, I didn't actually think you'd be home with the way things have been lately.”

“Not unreasonable,” I conceded. “But that doesn't change the rules. You stay at their places.”

He nodded. “Can she at least finish breakfast before I kick her out?”

I chewed my own food, thinking about what I had to do today. I swallowed and sighed. “You can let her stay all morning. I'm leaving soon anyway…I'll probably be gone most of the day.”

Tim brightened with unexpected pleasure. “Really? Oh, sweet. Thanks, Eug. You're the best—”

I handed him my empty plate. “Just get me a refill, and we'll call it even.”

Since telling Lara to keep my schedule open, I now had days with no plans—which proved terribly convenient today. I was going to drive out to Yellow River again to talk to Abigail and Art and try to make some sense of this red snake business. There were too many questions and loose ends surrounding it all, and I needed to start tying some of it up so that I could get on with my life.

The downside of a drive like that was that it gave me lots of time to think. Lots and lots of time. It was a clear day, and there were no major cities along the way. It was just me, my mind, and the open road. I kept thinking about how Kiyo and I had last driven this trek together and the sex that had followed at the hotel. I thought about him and Maiwenn now, celebrating the birth of their daughter. I thought about my breakdown with Dorian and my fears that Kiyo wouldn't want me anymore.

I'd brought my cell phone with me and had it sitting on the passenger seat, volume up high. I didn't want to miss a call from Kiyo…because surely he'd call to tell me about his daughter as soon as he could, right? If I hadn't heard anything, it meant he was still in the Otherworld, which—as one might imagine—didn't have the greatest cell coverage.

We'd visited Art first last time, but when I got off the highway, I found I was closer to Abigail's. So, I drove through Yellow River's modest downtown—past the sex-toy store—and parked outside her building. It was afternoon by now, and people were out and about, with tourists in particular poking their heads into the antiques store beneath Abigail's apartment. I found the little doorway by the store's entrance and headed upstairs, wondering if I'd be overrun with cats.

But I wasn't—largely because I never made it into the apartment. I knocked several times and even called Abigail's name once. When that didn't pan out, I dialed the number Roland had given me. I got her voice mail but nothing more.

“So much for that,” I muttered. Maybe it was just as well. Art was the one who held most of my attention anyway, what with his tattoo and all. He was the one who needed to be questioned.

So, I left the town for the suburbs, and in full daylight I could really take in how cute Art's neighborhood was. The houses were large and new like his, and his neighbors appeared to love their lawns just as much. I didn't see Art outside, but a large red SUV in the driveway boded well for him being around.

I knocked twice on the door, and for a moment, I thought he too must be out and about. Just as I nearly rang the doorbell, he finally opened the door. His hair was damp, like he'd just come out of the shower, and he held a pair of hedge clippers in one hand.

“Eugenie!” His face split into a grin. “This is a surprise.” The smile momentarily faltered. “Is everything okay? Roland…?”

“Fine, fine,” I assured him. “I just wanted to ask you some more questions.”

“You drove a long way for that,” he mused, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him.

People had an easier time lying over the phone, but I could hardly tell him that. “I had the time and thought it would make things simpler.”

“Sure. I'm happy for the company…so long as you don't mind hanging out with me while I get a little work done?” He waved the clippers by way of explanation.

“No problem.”

He offered me something to drink first, but I was still holding on to coffee I'd bought at a gas station and declined. I sat down on his front step while he began trimming some of the thick shrubs flanking the front of the house. They were thick and heavy-leaved, filled with pretty yellow blossoms. They seemed to want to consume the house, and I was reminded of Sleeping Beauty's castle, and the thorns that had surrounded it. He didn't cut their overall height but mostly seemed concerned with making them look neat.

“I stopped by Abigail's on my way here, but she didn't seem to be home.”

“I think she's in El Paso for a few days,” Art said. The muscles in his arms bulged, raising his T-shirt's sleeve and showing me the coiled red snake. “Her sister lives there. They're close, which is good, but I sure could have used her help with a banishing the other day. You should have come by then. It was a gentry girl, actually—you were looking for those, right?”

“Yes,” I said, startled. “I take it you managed to send her back on your own?”

“Yeah. She wasn't that tough. More scared than anything else.”

I sipped my coffee, trying to make sense of this new development. I may have very well indeed jumped to conclusions about Art's kidnapping role. Maybe Moria had just been banished after wandering here. “Do your jobs ever actually take you to the Otherworld?” I asked.

He gave a gruff laugh. “Not if I can help it. Those transitions are a bitch, even with that crossroads. I haven't actually been over in…I don't know. Years.”

“Huh,” I said.

Art paused in his clipping, giving me a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”

“I've heard stories—that is, gentry rumors—about some human over there who kind of sounds like you.”

“Like me?” His confusion grew. “That's a little weird.”

“It was a human with a red snake tattoo.” I didn't mean to sound accusatory, but a tiny bit of it slipped into my tone.

“Why on earth would I lie about crossing over?” he asked. He wasn't angry, exactly, but some of that friendly demeanor had cooled a little.

“Whoa, hey. I didn't say you did.” I tried not to sound too defensive. “It was just weird that there were sightings of someone who looked like you near where your crossroads lets out.”

“The gentry I've banished are probably getting confused and thinking I was in their world when I kicked them out of this one…it's honestly hard to understand how any of them think. And you know how disorienting banishing is.”

“Yeah, I know. I'm just saying the story I heard was weird.” Art said he'd kicked a gentry girl out, but Moria sure had sounded like she'd escaped.

If I thought his attitude was cool earlier, it was frigid now. “I find it equally weird that a shaman is chummy enough with gentry to be listening to their stories—and concerned about them. Why does it matter to you if humans are over there anyway?”

“Because those humans might be harming gentry.”

“And?”

“And it's not right.”

He snorted and returned to his trimming. “They're gentry, Eugenie. They're not like us. And from what I hear, you're not all that gentle with them anyway.”

“When they're in
this
world, yeah.”

“Any world, Eugenie. They're literally not human. Why do you care so much?”

“None of your business.” The harsh words were out before I could stop them. Art paused again and this time turned to fully face me.

“And it's none of your business where I go and what I do—in either world.”

My heart lurched in my chest. “What, are you saying it is you? That you have been over in the Otherworld recently?”

“I'm saying I'm done with this discussion. You're not welcome here if you're just going to toss around ridiculous accusations—accusations that don't even matter.”

“It matters to them.”

“I think you're asking the wrong questions here. You need to examine your motives and figure out why you're so eager to defend those who have no regard for us—and why you're picking fights with your own kind.”

I shot up, careful of the coffee. “I'm not picking a fight.”

“Then get out of here before there is one.”

We stood there, locked in antagonism, and I wondered if it would come to a fight. I was armed, and he wasn't, though he was bigger and better-muscled. No, that was stupid. Why would he fight? He hadn't confessed to anything, only grown hostile at what he read as me accusing him of things he didn't consider crimes. That didn't make him guilty—but it didn't make him innocent either. Something just didn't feel right here.

“Fine,” I said, backing off. “I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to figure things out and make sure no one's being wronged.”

He smiled, but it was a far cry from the easy grin that had greeted me. “What in God's name would you do if someone was? Come on, Eugenie. Don't overinflate your sense of obligation—or importance. There's no shaman police. You don't have any jurisdiction or right to dictate what I or anyone else around here—or anywhere—does.”

“Noted,” I said, heading toward my car. I was afraid if I stayed, I was going to say something I'd regret. Regardless if he had a role in all this, I didn't like the callous way he treated gentry—particularly since it was similar to the attitude I'd once had. “I'll send your regards to Roland.”

“Make sure you do,” called Art. “And maybe you should have a talk with him about some of these ideas while you're at it. Roland knows what's right.”

I bit my lip and got in the car without further comment. So. No real answers here, but something felt wrong about Art. He was too guarded and hostile, and despite his claims about not having been to the Otherworld recently, the rest of his comments made it seem very plausible that he could be lying.

Yet, I realized what also bothered me as much as his reticence was his attitude toward the gentry. Roland's was similar, albeit not as harsh, and he'd warned me away plenty of times. Kiyo also wanted me to keep out of gentry affairs—inasmuch as I could—which was rather hypocritical, considering his involvement. I was enmeshed, whether I liked it or not, and had accepted that my views on the gentry had changed. They were odd, and I didn't always approve of them, but in their hearts, I knew they were people not all that different from me, full of the same feelings and hopes. I couldn't understand how Art or anyone else could think girls disappearing was unimportant—even if they were gentry.