Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

“Oh my God,” I said. “That’s what they wanted, isn’t it? Dorian and Maiwenn summoned Volusian to come to me with some message, and I sent him away. I thought it was a ploy, but it wasn’t—was it? They were trying to tell me about this.”

“Most likely,” agreed Roland. “I hadn’t heard about that. Dorian only recently got in touch with me to convince me to come over and see it for myself. Then he begged me to let you know what was happening.”

“Dorian doesn’t beg,” I murmured, still stunned.

Roland stared off into the shadows, his face troubled. “Under most circumstances, I wouldn’t have told you. People can’t live in cold like that, and those who survive have no food. You know how I feel about the gentry. But when I actually saw it ... the death and sickness. Well. I don’t know, Eugenie. I don’t like them, but no one should suffer like that. Not even the gentry.”

I sank down to the grass, mostly because I felt exhausted in mind rather than body. My lands. My kingdoms were suffering ... had been suffering for a long time ... and I hadn’t known. Maybe I could leave Otherworldly politics behind. Maybe I could even leave my enemies behind. But the land was part of me. I was responsible for it, and I had failed it.

“I don’t know what I can do,” I said. “Even if I went back ... I mean, if Dorian and Maiwenn haven’t come up with any ideas, I’m not sure I could do better.”

“They mentioned something about uniting powers to attempt to break the spell.... I didn’t really follow that, though.” Roland’s tone conveyed that even if he pitied the gentry for their suffering, their magic was still something he had no use for. “Dorian also has some ideas about who’s responsible.”

Of course he would. Even if his own magical attempts proved ineffectual, Dorian wouldn’t sit idly by. He’d try to solve this mystery. My knowledge of the situation was limited, but I tried to figure out where his thought process might go. I jumped back to one of Roland’s earlier comments, about how some outlying kingdoms hadn’t been affected.

“Who isn’t under the blight?” I asked. “You said a few weren’t.”

“The Yew Land is one,” said Roland, looking surprised at my leap. “That’s who Dorian thinks—”

“—is responsible?” I guessed.

“How did you know that?”

“Because as much as I hate to admit it, I know how Dorian thinks. If some places were affected and some weren’t, I’d look at the unaffected ones too.”

“That’s what Dorian said.” Roland didn’t look pleased that I could “think like Dorian,” and I could definitely understand his dismay. “But that’s not all. Apparently, they’re making quite a profit off of food. Their land—and I guess their, what, subsidiaries?—are still able to grow and produce food, and they have no qualms about selling it to the stricken lands at very, very high prices.”

I was aghast. “That’s terrible.”

Roland shrugged. “But some of the monarchs are willing to pay, rather than see their people suffer. And it’s better than the alternative... .”

I looked up sharply at his ominous tone. “What alternative?”

“Stealing.”

“From the Yew Land?” I certainly didn’t endorse theft but was surprised Roland would care one way or another about gentry stealing from each other.

“No,” he said. “From humans. There are gentry who have been raiding our world for food and supplies.”

I gaped, unable to immediately form a response. I knew better than to say “that’s impossible” again, but it was still hard to believe. “If there were elementals going on food rampages, I think I would’ve heard about that. They’re not exactly subtle, and there are only a handful of gentry who can cross over in true form.” Dorian was one, but I knew with absolute confidence he’d never lower himself to that.

“A handful is all it takes,” said Roland. “And those are exactly the ones doing this—not the elementals. One of them’s that boy ... the one I saw that day in the Rowan Land, whose sister had been attacked? You know him, right?”

I jumped back on my feet. “Pagiel? No. No way. He wouldn’t ... no .” Once again, though, I had to question myself. Pagiel was entirely capable of crossing worlds intact. Even though I knew he was good at heart, I also knew he had a fierce, passionate streak about the things he believed in. He’d made it clear—both in his defense of me and his sister—that he didn’t care about the dangers involved if it meant doing what he believed was right. And if ever there was a cause that would trigger all his noble impulses, wouldn’t it be feeding his starving people?

Yes, Pagiel as an Otherworldly Robin Hood was very much a possibility. With his powers to control wind and air, he’d also be a formidable—

“Oh Lord,” I said. A flashback came to me of that weird story in the news about a Tucson robbery. “I saw something about a grocery store in Tucson. That was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Roland. “With a couple cronies. The one good thing is that they’re pretty fast and efficient. Most humans don’t know what they’re seeing when the hits occur, so there hasn’t been any mass hysteria about supernatural invaders—yet. And that’s the thing... .”

I snapped myself out of my dizzying ruminations and focused on him. The lines of his face were hard ... and filled with sorrow. “What is?”

“Do you know how hard it was for me to come to you? I swore nothing would get me out here ... no matter how many of those bastards come knocking at my door or tried to get me to tell where you were at.” I flinched, wondering just “how many” there had been. “I was willing to maintain the plan, no matter what, for as long as it took to keep you safe ... and then all this came along. Never in a million years could I have foreseen this.”

“I don’t think anyone could have,” I said softly. Roland was usually unshakeable; it was hard to see him so worked up.

“When I saw those people, what they were going through ... that nearly made me come for you then and there. Then, when I found out what that boy was doing ... well, that sealed it. We can’t have that, Eugenie. You know we can’t. If other gentry catch on to what he’s doing and realize they too can just march on over and take what they want, you can imagine the chaos that would follow. What’s really awful about it all is that in some twisted way, I understand why he’s doing it. He’s a kid. He sees a problem, and he’s trying to fix it. God help me, maybe I’d do the same in his place.”

It occurred to me then that Roland’s emotion wasn’t just because he’d come to me in exile or because of gentry going on rabid shopping trips. Those were upsetting him, but the real problem was that Roland’s worldview had been shaken. He’d spent his life in the shamanic trade, crossing worlds and ousting those who didn’t belong in ours. His view of the gentry had never been good, and it had worsened when he’d rescued my mother and later seen the way I’d been ensnared in magical schemes. Yet, now, through a weird series of events, against everything he’d always told himself, he’d suddenly come to see the gentry as ... people.

Having your beliefs radically altered like that—no matter what your age was—could be devastating. I knew that from personal experience.

I hugged him. “It’s okay,” I said, unable to remember any time in my life when I’d comforted him. “You did the right thing in coming to me. You’re right to feel like you do. I feel the same. It’s terrible—all of it.”

Roland awkwardly patted my back, and I knew he felt embarrassed by his emotions. With another sigh, he stepped back and regarded me wearily. “Yes, but what do we do about it? I can fight that kid off, you know. His hits are in Tucson—probably because of the gates—and I could easily call in a few outside shamans to help me. Still, I think a little reasoning might go farther.”