Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

“Unlikely,” Roland said, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. “Especially since people report that they seemed to have ‘vanished.’ My guess is they’re just using a new gate. I know a couple up in that area.”

I nodded along, trying to merge my mental maps of this world and the Otherworld. “There’s a Phoenix one in the Willow Land. If hostilities really have been lifted, then Maiwenn would probably let Pagiel use it.” I sat down cross-legged on the floor, feeling a quick spark of pride at how quickly I was regaining my flexibility. “I wonder if we should be relieved Tucson isn’t the sole target—or worry that Pagiel’s spreading out to other gates and other cities.”

“We should be concerned that these raids are still going on, period. If you still think you’re up for leaving, we should probably do it soon.” His tone was hard, all-business, but I saw compassion in his eyes.

“I’m still up for it,” I said sadly. “Everything’s in place. If you can book us a flight for tomorrow, I’ll be ready to go.” Every word of that was true, but the finality of it was a hard thing to accept.

Roland made it happen. Candace and Charles sent us off with a huge farewell dinner of chicken and dumplings, though for once, the focus was less on the food and more on tying up all the loose ends and red tape with Isaac and Ivy. The morning of our flight, Roland and I left extra early so that we could make one more visit to the hospital. I don’t know if my timing was just lucky or if the staff felt sorry for me, but the nurse declared we’d reached a point where it would be okay for us to hold the twins.

I could scarcely dare to believe my good fortune. The ventilators were off, but there were still lots of cords and tubes to contend with, making everything a delicate balancing act. Roland and I were each given a twin, and after a little while, we switched. Looking down at Isaac, I felt my breath catch. Although still definitely a preemie, he’d put on weight and looked much more “babylike” than he had at birth. Now that they were both a little more developed, I was more confident than ever that they’d taken after me and not Kiyo. It was just as well since they had my last name and would never have any contact with him.

Isaac slept the entire time I held him, making the small movements and coos that infants do in their sleep. He seemed very content, and I again wondered if he was aware of my presence in any way. Maybe that had been naïve of me to imagine when I was on the other side of the glass, but now, in my arms, he must surely feel some sort of subconscious connection ... right?

So much has been done because of you, I thought. A world nearly went to war for you, and I had to change the way I lived to keep you safe. It had been worth it, though, and I dared to wonder if maybe this current tragedy in the Otherworld would leave its residents with a new sense of solidarity that would make the Storm King prophecy seem like an irrelevant fantasy from the past. I didn’t know if I’d ever want to bring my children into the Otherworld, but regardless of where they were, I wanted them to live peaceful lives that weren’t plagued by war and prophecy.

Ivy was actually awake, a rare treat. Her eyes were dark blue, normal for newborns, and I’d been told we’d have to wait a bit to see what color they settled into. I hoped they’d be violet like mine and continue the trend of the twins not looking like Kiyo.

The visit was too short. I wanted to keep trading twins back and forth with Roland, memorizing every single one of my children’s features. Both the NICU and our airline had their own schedules to keep, however, and we eventually had to give Isaac and Ivy back to their warm, enclosed homes. I left with a lump in my throat and hadn’t gotten very far outside the nursery when I spotted Evan waiting in the hall, leaning patiently against a wall. I came to a stop, and Roland cleared his throat.

“I’ll get the car and meet you up front, okay?” he said.

I nodded as he left and strolled over to Evan. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Evan straightened up, giving me one of his warm smiles. “Here to see you. Sorry I couldn’t come by last night—we had some late back-to-school events I couldn’t miss. So, I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left.”

“I’m glad,” I said, surprised at the mix of feelings churning within me. I was still keyed up over my visit with the twins, and seeing him only added to the turmoil. “I would’ve hated to leave without saying good-bye.”

“Well,” he said. “It’s not really good-bye, is it? You’ll be back.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “I just don’t know when.”

“Well, you know we’ll take care of everything, so don’t you worry.”

I laughed. “You sound just like your aunt and uncle. Candace keeps saying the same thing.”

“Just telling it like it is.” He shrugged. “I know you wouldn’t go without a good reason. So, take care of what you have to, and know that we’re all here for you—and for them.” He nodded toward the nursery.

“I know ... and I’m sorry ... sorry I have to go... .”

Evan gently reached out toward me and placed his fingers under my chin, tipping my head up so that I had to look at him. “Why are you apologizing? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Maybe. The truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure why I was apologizing either. Lots of reasons, I supposed. I felt bad for leaving Isaac and Ivy. I felt bad for leaving Evan.

“I just feel like I’m abandoning everyone,” I admitted.

“Abandoning would be taking off without leaving any provisions for your children or if you just left on a whim. None of that’s true.”

That well-worn thought came to me again, of how simple life would be here, with him. The “simple” part had nothing to do with the Southern jokes I’d made when Roland first sent me here. It was all about this family, these people with their unconditional love and willingness to let everyone make their own choices. It was about a lifestyle free of politics and schemes. I took hold of Evan’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you. For everything. I really appreciate it.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “For what, taking you fishing?”

“Yes, actually. And all the other million little activities you took me on. You have no idea how much it all meant to me, how much I needed those.”

“Well, geez,” he said, turning adorably flustered. I even caught sight of a blush. “I was just worried you were bored left alone at the house all day. If I’d known I was being rated, I would’ve taken you on a proper date.”

I laughed again and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You did, believe me. Countless times.”

He blushed further. “I don’t know about that. But when you get back, well ... then maybe ...”

“Maybe,” I agreed, stepping back. Even now, he was still cautious of pushing too hard on my boundaries. “Thanks again ... and thank you for, well, for them.” I pointed back at the NICU. “I know you’ll be just as busy with them as your aunt and uncle will be.”

Evan smiled. “There’s nothing to thank me for when it comes to those two.”

Our farewell took some of the sting out of having to leave the twins, but I was left melancholy and wistful for a whole new set of reasons as Roland and I began our journey home.

After a couple connections and layovers, we finally made it back to Tucson in early evening. For the first time in a very long while, I allowed myself to truly focus on something that wasn’t the twins. Tucson. How long had it been since I’d been here? Even before my time in Huntsville, I’d had to avoid my hometown for fear of gentry assassins. Looking at the Sonora Desert that surrounded the city, bathed in the oranges and reds of sunset, I felt a surge of joy spread through me. Home . Maybe Tucson didn’t have the magical pull of my Otherworldly kingdoms, but I’d ached for it nonetheless.