Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

I scowled but made no argument—because he was right.

Pagiel’s blue eyes lit up. “I’ll help you find a new place,” he told me. “I’ll check all the gates and see where they lead into the human world.”

I smiled indulgently. I was beginning to think Dorian might have a point about staying holed up in this world, but I didn’t want to dress Pagiel down in front of Ysabel and Edria. “Thank you, Pagiel.”

Ysabel looked ready to explode. “This isn’t finished.”

“Oh,” said Dorian. “I assure you, it is. Now go. All of you.”

That commanding tone was back, and after some obligatory curtsies and bowing, the family scurried off.

“They’re always so delightful,” said Dorian.

“Not the first word that comes to mind for me,” I said, watching as the guards shut the door again. I sighed. “Although, I really do hate the idea of anyone risking their lives for me. Especially Pagiel. I like him.”

“That’s the unfortunate thing,” said Dorian, smiling. “It’s always going to be people you like. Enemies tend not to risk their lives for you. Only your friends are willing to make the sacrifice. Besides, I thought you got over this moral quandary when we went to war against Katrice?”

“I wouldn’t say I ever really got over it. Mostly I learned to deal with it.”

“That may have to be a permanent philosophy for you.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. I stood up, stretching to relieve an ache in my back that hadn’t been there earlier. Great. One more way my body was falling apart. “I should get back to the Thorn Land now.”

Dorian rose with me. “Not yet.”

I eyed him warily. “Trying to keep me around?”

“Just being smart. Maiwenn’s agents were probably watching this hold, waiting to see if you’d return after their ambush. If they’re still in the area, it’s best you not take to the roads, escorted or not. That, and they’d also likely expect you to report here and immediately go home. Wait another day or so, and they’ll give up and leave.”

“I hate intrigue,” I muttered, knowing he was right again.

“But you do it so well.”

Then, without warning, he reached out and laid a hand on my stomach. I jumped back. “Hey! Ask permission first.”

“Just wanted to check in on my little prodigies,” he said, unfazed. He stepped toward me again. “May I?”

“They’re not your prodigies.” I gave a reluctant nod, and his hand returned. “Why bother? I haven’t felt them move yet. You certainly can’t.”

“Even so, I like the connection. We’re going to be very close, these two and I. Well, if you’ll stop being stubborn and let me adopt them.”

It was an offer he kept making me, one that would give my children legitimacy and status in the Otherworld. As queen of two kingdoms, though, they had plenty of status and inheritance through me, without his help. Dorian kept claiming he simply wanted to be a part of our lives. After all the mistrust between us, I was certain there was some sort of attempt at control going on.

“I’m still thinking it over,” I said evasively.

He chuckled to himself. “Something makes me suspect you’ll be ‘thinking it over’ for the next twenty years.”

Dorian said no more, but his hand didn’t move either. He seemed completely entranced by touching me, and I wished I could read what he was feeling. Dorian excelled at disguising what was on the inside. Part of that came from being king, and part of it came from just being ... well, Dorian. As we stood there, I soon became aware of the warmth of his hand on me and the closeness of his body. It was disconcerting and stirred up too many recollections of our past. I’d been deeply in love with him when he betrayed me; it hadn’t been an easy relationship to just let go of. Even now, the memories of our closeness and the intense physicality burned within me. When he started to slide his hand toward the side of my hip, I abruptly pulled away.

“They aren’t over there,” I said, hoping I sounded more irritable than flustered. I took a few steps toward the door. “I’ll stay another day or so and then head back.”

He clasped his hands in front of him and nodded. “As you wish. I’m sure I’ll see you around. If not, then at the wedding.”

“Right,” I said. I held his gaze for a few moments and then quickly turned away, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. Having to guess at his emotions was frustrating sometimes, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as actually knowing them.

I didn’t take offense that Rurik and Shaya wanted to be married in the Rowan Land, rather than the Thorn Land. Sure, the Thorn Land was where they’d fallen in love while working for me, but I’d known for a while that few gentry shared my love for the endless heat and vast deserts of my primary kingdom. The Rowan Land was still under my rule, though, and even I had to admit it was pretty gorgeous. It was the kind of place that came to mind when you pictured pastoral picnics and idyllic afternoons. Flowers bloomed in abundance, and low, rolling mountains made for a pretty backdrop along the horizon. If I had any issue with the Rowan Land, it was that I simply hadn’t wanted to be its queen.

The wedding was held in the vast grounds stretching out beyond the monarch’s castle. The castle had been designed by the Rowan Land’s last ruler, Katrice, and looked like something straight out of a Bavarian postcard. Magic tied to plants and nature was a common gentry power, and several people must have been hard at work in decorating the grounds. I’d told them they could do whatever they wanted, and they’d taken me at my word. Huge, flowering cherry trees—which hadn’t been there a few days ago—lined the courtyard like sentries, showering everything with delicate pink petals. Climbing roses had been coaxed into a natural arch where the couple would take their vows and bloomed in exotic colors I’d never seen in the wild. There were no chairs for the guests, and I’d been told it was tradition to stand for gentry weddings, particularly since the ceremony was usually brief. Off to the sides, kept discreetly away during the ceremony, servants were piling ornate wooden tables with platters of food for the feasting that would follow. Blue morning glories wound their way up the tables’ legs, and gentry magic ensured the food stayed hot.

If there was anything that marred this beautiful scene, it was the abundance of soldiers patrolling the area. They weren’t easy to spot—at first. Guests were pouring into the area, dressed in the variety of colors and fabrics the gentry so loved. It made it difficult to distinguish anything, but after a minute or so of study, I could pick out the uniforms of both my own soldiers and the ones that Dorian had lent for the occasion. Although they were spread throughout all the grounds, the soldiers were more densely arranged around wherever I was. No surprise, seeing as I was the reason for the extra security. I also knew that all the guests—many of whom were dignitaries and royalty from other kingdoms—had been extensively screened before they were allowed anywhere near the wedding site. I felt a little guilty that my situation put this joyous occasion into lockdown mode, but Rurik and Shaya had taken it in stride.

“This dress makes me look fat,” I told Jasmine as we stood near the back of the crowd and watched the last-minute preparations fall into place. She glanced over at me and my efforts to rearrange the folds of my long, gauzy dress.

“You’re pregnant,” she stated. “Everything makes you look fat.”

I scowled. “I think the correct response was, ‘No it doesn’t.’”

Jasmine shrugged, feeling no remorse for her blunt honesty. “It’s not that bad. And it’s just in your stomach.” She eyed me critically. “And maybe your chest.”