Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

“This is ... exquisite,” I said at last.

“There’s another one coming, but it’s still in progress. I wanted to show you this one before I left and see if you approved.”

“I ... yes. How could I not?” I was still in awe at the gift and felt a lump forming in my throat. Whether my emotion was from the thought of a tiny sleeping form inside that crib or simply because of Dorian’s kindness, I really couldn’t say.

“Excellent,” he said, pouring more wine. “I suppose we’ll have to have a number of them made, eh? No doubt you’ll be hauling those poor children around to both your kingdoms—and to mine, of course. I can hardly spoil them if they don’t visit.”

I nodded and muttered something in the affirmative. We finished that course, but I was still too overwhelmed to say much that was comprehensible. The last serving of the night was dessert, and I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw it. It was an elaborate chocolate cake, artfully decorated in the kind of fanciful icing designs the gentry loved. Hazelnuts and chocolate shavings added to the aesthetics, along with ...

“Are those ... are those pieces of Milky Way?” Even before the words were out of my mouth, I knew I was right. Chopped up and worked in with the rest of the confectionary wonder were bits of my favorite candy bar. “How on earth did you get those?” Even the gentry had magical limits.

“Young Pagiel acquired some on a recent jaunt to the human world. I remembered how you’d been wanting some.” Some warning in my brain said I should be alarmed that Pagiel had made an unauthorized crossing and had managed to “acquire” human goods. I wasn’t optimistic about his cash resources. “Serving them as-is seemed so primitive, so I had the cook find a more elegant method of preparing them.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” I watched as Dorian sliced the cake, thinking it was a shame to mar such beauty. “Why ... why did you? What do you want?”

Dorian set a piece of cake on my plate and gave me a look that seemed legitimately perplexed. “Nothing. Well, except to make things pleasant between us again. As I was starting to tell you earlier, I want more than your safety. I want you to be happy. I feel justified in most of my actions— most. There are some affairs I haven’t treated you well in, and I want to rectify that. This cake is by no means the answer, but if we could manage any sort of trust again ...” He glanced away briefly, displaying a vulnerability I hardly ever saw in him. “Well. That would make me happier than you can imagine.”

Tears threatened to well up in my eyes. Fucking hormones. I cast a quick glance at the crib before returning to the cake again. I couldn’t take it anymore. “I-I’m leaving,” I blurted out. “I’m leaving the Otherworld.”

Dorian’s face didn’t alter in expression as he studied me. “Oh? You found some acceptable but dubiously safe new doctor? I’m telling you, the chicken would be much simpler.”

“No,” I said, feeling miserable. If we could manage any sort of trust again, that would make me happier than you can imagine . Why had he said that, of all things? “For good. Or, well, for a while.” I explained to him what I’d worked out with Roland, and throughout it all, Dorian’s face still remained damnably calm. I almost wished he’d flip into some burst of rage or mockery. Instead, once I’d finished, his reaction was minimal.

“Well,” he said, setting his fork down beside an uneaten piece of cake. “That is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? That’s all you have to say?” I wasn’t trying to provoke a fight; I was just surprised.

He paused to sip some wine. “What else is there? It sounds like everything’s in place. And clearly you’ve made up your mind if you’ve been planning this behind my back all week.”

“Is that what bothers you?” I asked. “That I didn’t tell you?”

At last, the hint of a smile—but it was a bitter one. “Ah, Eugenie. There are so many things that bother me about this, it’s hard to know where to start. I suppose it was foolish of me to try talking about trust again, eh? We’re as far from that as ever.”

I felt a mix of guilt and anger. “Hey, you’re the one who started it! If you hadn’t tricked me into the Iron Crown—”

He gave a melodramatic sigh. “Not this again. Please. At least find some other grievance to lay at my feet. That crown saved lives, and you know it.”

“You withheld the truth from me.”

“And you’ve withheld this news of your departure from me all week,” he pointed out. “One standard for me and another for you?”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” I said, even though I kind of was. “Not telling you this doesn’t have nearly the impact of the Iron Crown! You just don’t like being left out.”

“Like I just said, there’s a lot more to it than just that,” he said coldly. “Like you thinking obscurity is an adequate substitute for the protection of some of the greatest magic users in this world.”

“Like yourself?” I guessed.

“Of course.” Modesty was never a virtue Dorian really prized. “Do you think I wouldn’t rip the earth up around anyone who tried to lay a hand on you?”

“No, but I don’t think you can always be nearby.”

“I could be,” he countered. Some of his earlier anger eased. “I’ll stay here in your lands permanently. Oh, I’ll have to make the occasional jaunts back to the Oak Land, but far better me traveling than you. Unless, of course, my hair leads to another case of mistaken identity.” He tossed some of that glorious auburn hair over one shoulder to make his point. “Of course, with my rugged and manly features, it seems unlikely that kind of error would occur.”

“It’s not realistic,” I said, not falling prey to his charm. “And really, I do think this other plan is the safest option.”

“Yet I won’t have any idea if you actually are safe. You’ll be lost among humans.”

“You sound like Jasmine.”

He sniffed. “Who knew? It appears she and I finally agree on something.”

Unlike Jasmine, though, no amount of arguing convinced him of the plan’s soundness. He didn’t try to talk me out of it; he just stubbornly refused to endorse it. And, as I continued laying out my now well-worn arguments, I could see that patient mask of his growing thinner and thinner. This decision really did agitate him, though I couldn’t entirely figure out what bothered him the most. At last, he stood up and cut off some point he was making.

“My dear, this is a waste of time for both of us. We’re going to have to agree to disagree, and really, I see no point in my continued presence. It’s time for me to go home.”

“Tonight?” I asked, standing as well.

“Why not?” He reached for a cloak that was draped over a small table. “As I said before, I’m not the one in danger. I’d thought to stay until tomorrow to enjoy more of your company, but it seems that’s futile now.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” I said petulantly.

Dorian approached the door. “Who says I am?”

“You,” I said. I would’ve smiled if anything about this was funny. “Everything about you right now. Your face, your tone, your body language. You’re pissed off. I knew you would be. But you can’t really fault any of my reasoning.”

“No, I suppose I can’t,” he agreed. He reached the door and regarded me expectantly.

“It’s better this way,” I said, desperately wanting him to endorse this. “And it’s easier on you.”

He chuckled. “Do you think that matters? Eugenie, what’s ‘easy’ is of no consequence when it comes to you. I would do anything for you—anything at all—if it only meant you’d—” He cut himself off and abruptly turned away, resting his hand on the door’s handle. Yet still he didn’t leave.