Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

“Why didn’t you say so right away?” exclaimed Candace. “Wash your hands then. We run a civilized house.”

Evan complied meekly and walked over to the counter. “I’m Eugenie,” I told him.

“Evan is Charles’s nephew,” Candace explained, taking her seat again. “Lives a couple miles away.”

Evan returned with clean hands and joined us. “I just came by to return Uncle Chuck’s tools,” he said. “But you can’t just stop by here and leave without eating—especially around dinnertime.”

“So I’m learning,” I said.

This made him smile again, and he dug into his food with enough enthusiasm to please even Candace. She started back in with her domination of the conversation, though Evan was a good match for her and kept trying to draw both me and Charles in as well. Evan wasn’t quite as lanky as his uncle but had the same blond hair and blue eyes. He had a muscular build that confirmed his earlier statement about “working outside all day,” as well as the start of a sunburn, which Candace was quick to scold him about.

“What do you do, Evan?” I asked, when a rare pause in the talking came up. I fully expected anything from farmer to mechanic. I guess I hadn’t entirely let go of my stereotypes.

“High school teacher,” he said, between bites of potatoes. “At least, I am during most of the year. I’ve still got another month or so off.”

Surprising answer. “What do you teach?”

“Physics,” he said. “And shop.” Seeing my astonished look, he added, “It’s a small school. Some of us do double-duty.”

“I guess,” I said. “Those seem like polar opposites.”

He shook his head. “You’d be surprised. Plus, it gives me an excuse to make lots of field trips to the space center.”

“You should take Eugenie there,” said Candace. She turned to me. “He’s there so much that they should be paying him to give tours. You should talk to them, Evan. You could make a little extra money this summer.”

“I’m sure I could take her without seeking compensation from the space center,” said Evan patiently. “If she even wants to go.”

“Sure,” I said, mostly because I wasn’t entirely sure yet how I’d be spending my days around here anyway. The irony of my life wasn’t lost on me. I hadn’t just left behind a shadowy world of mystery and magic; I was now signing on to explore the ultimate triumph of human technology. “That’d be great.”

“But don’t tire her out,” warned Candace. “She’s pregnant. With twins.”

Evan gave me a once-over. “Really? I can’t even tell.”

“Flatterer,” I muttered, much to his amusement.

“You also can’t take her on any of those simulator rides,” added Candace. “They’re not good for pregnant women.”

“That, I know,” said Evan patiently.

“Just making sure,” she said. “I know how reckless you can be.”

Honestly, Evan seemed like one of the least reckless people I’d ever met—rivaled only by Charles. That easygoing nature must run in the family. Both were quick to smile and had a good attitude about everything. Even though Candace harassed them both for various reasons, it was obvious that there was a lot of love in this group, and they were all willing to bring me into their little circle. It was both touching and weird, and I mentioned it to Evan later.

“Your aunt and uncle are so nice,” I confessed when we were alone. Charles had entrusted Evan with the spare DVD player to install in my room. “I know she’s friends with Roland—my stepfather—but still. They’ve just gone above and beyond. I didn’t expect this kind of welcome.”

“That’s how they are.” Evan’s back was to me as he connected a few cables between the TV and DVD player. “They’re just naturally good. That, and they’d bend over backward for someone like you anyway.”

I frowned. “Because of Roland?”

“Nah.” He straightened up and turned on the TV to test it. “Because of the baby. Er, babies.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Satisfied all was working, he turned around and regarded me with a gentle smile. “They love kids and especially babies. They can’t have any of their own—though it wasn’t for a lack of trying. They went through a lot of heartache, and even though they’ve sort of accepted things now, I know it still hurts them sometimes.”

“I had no idea,” I murmured. I rested a hand on my stomach. “I feel kind of bad. Maybe I shouldn’t be here... .”

“Don’t think like that,” he chided. “They’re not bitter. Like I said, they’re good people, and you carrying twins just makes their day. You could stay here as long as you wanted—you and the kids—and they’d be delighted. There’s nothing they won’t do for you.” His words sent a disconcerting reminder of Dorian’s constant What wouldn’t I do for you? quip.

I wondered if Roland had known about the Reeds’ childless state when he’d decided on this location for me. Had he guessed their situation would add an extra level of protectiveness?

“I don’t know what to say. I just don’t feel like ... I don’t know. I’m just kind of overwhelmed by it all. I don’t think I can pay them back for this.”

“Just accept it and let them take care of you,” Evan said with a wink. “That’s plenty of payback for them, believe me.” He moved toward the door and stifled a yawn. “I’ve got to head out before I fall over, but I’ll give you a call soon if you do want to go check out the space center. And if you don’t, then just say so. Don’t let Candace pressure you.”

“No,” I said truthfully. “It sounds like fun.”

Evan left, and the rest of the household began winding down. Both Charles and Candace went out of their way to make sure I didn’t need anything else before going to bed. I assured them I was fine and then finally shut the door on my little room. With a sigh, I stretched out on top of my bed.

“What have I done?” I murmured, staring up at the pine slats. One day I was the queen of a fairy kingdom, commanding armies and wielding powerful magic. The next, I was out in the country, the darling of a good-hearted family whose only motivations were kindness and affection to others. It left me confused and unsure of what exactly I wanted in the world. And weirdly, for the first time since I’d left the Otherworld and begun my manic journey, I truly felt alone. I’d abandoned a lifestyle that—while dangerous—was familiar and beloved. Now, I was in a much simpler, easier world ... but I questioned if I’d ever truly feel like I belonged in it.

Dorian’s face played through my mind again, and I forcibly pushed him away.

A small fluttering in my stomach made me jerk upright. I sat there in disbelief, staring around foolishly. What was that? Had that been ... ? Tentatively, I rested a hand on my abdomen, waiting for a repeat. There was none. I tried to remember what the doctor had said about the babies moving. I remembered the fish analogy and—most importantly—her comment that it wouldn’t feel like something trying to kick its way out of me.

When nothing else happened, I lay back on the bed. That could have been anything, I decided. Too much pot roast. A muscle spasm. I’d almost convinced myself I’d imagined it when another fluttering in a different part of my stomach left me wide-eyed. I nearly stopped breathing, then told myself that wouldn’t be healthy for any of us.

I used no magic but instead expanded my senses so that I could feel the air and water around me. I could hear the hum of insects outside and smell the leaves of the trees outside my window. The world fell into a comfortable harmony as I clasped my hands and rested them carefully on my stomach again. Another flutter answered me, and I realized that maybe, no matter how radically things had changed, I wasn’t alone after all.