Richelle Mead - Shadow Heir

He grimaced. “Neither, please. If you like, I’ll provide you with several other more acceptable alternatives for later. But first ... I believe we have a blight to deal with.”

Dorian stretched out his hand, and the marble bust floated to him, compelled by his power over stone and earth. He held the bust in his hands and gazed admiringly at himself. “Such a fetching likeness, isn’t it?”

And with that, he hurled the bust to the tiled floor. The marble sculpture smashed into a hundred fragments and shards. Far away in the Otherworld, the Oak Land woke up.

It didn’t take long for the Yew Land to be claimed. The same magic users that had aided Varia with the blight were all quick to scramble and seize a piece of her former land. As a result, the kingdom ended up reshifting into three smaller kingdoms. I’d been told that was possible in the Otherworld, but I’d never seen it happen. The three kingdoms shaped themselves to their new masters, becoming the Cork Land, the Cottonwood Land, and the Hickory Land. The Yew Land was no more.

Despite their involvement in Varia’s schemes, the new monarchs—two queens and one king—were quick to make pledges of peace and friendship to my party and the Hemlock contingent. These offers were legitimate, unlike Varia’s absurd “friendly” offer. The new monarchs were concerned with consolidating their power and establishing a rule. Alliances were far more beneficial than conquests.

The new monarchs would’ve hosted us for a while, but my group was anxious to return to our own lands and begin the healing there. We declined all the offers, promising to send ambassadors soon to set up trade agreements and treaties. Considering it might take a while before food production was back up in my kingdoms, this was actually a pretty solid plan.

Before we left, however, I had a very interesting conversation with Magia, the newly crowned Hickory Queen. As someone born and raised in the Yew Land, she was well versed in its history and legends.

“Of course I know about Volusian, Slayer of Souls,” she told me.

Dorian was with me, sitting with Magia in an inn that she’d made her headquarters until a castle could be built. I exchanged surprised glances with him.

“Slayer of Souls?” I asked.

“Definitely an impressive title,” mused Dorian. “I might start calling myself that.” He looked tired but had recovered by leaps and bounds, thanks to Alistir and a healer lent to us by Hadic of the Hemlock Land.

“I admit,” Magia added, “that I thought most of it was legend. According to the stories, Volusian was one of Onya’s most trusted advisers.”

“Onya?” Moments later, I remembered the portrait I’d seen in the throne room, depicting a queen of the same name and her two daughters.

Magia nodded. “Onya the Magnificent. Ganene’s mother. Varia’s grandmother. One of the Yew Land’s most powerful leaders. Their whole family was powerful. It was how they were able to keep passing the land down through the generations.”

“Remarkable,” Dorian agreed. I’d learned enough to know that lineage didn’t affect who controlled Otherworldly kingdoms. Power did. Monarchs certainly wanted their children to inherit, but many times, those offspring simply weren’t strong enough to claim the land.

“Onya had a younger daughter, Nissa the Fair.” I remembered the pretty girl in the painting and wondered if this use of nicknames was a Yew custom or simply a product of that era. I wondered also if history would remember me as Eugenie the Badass. “Nissa didn’t possess nearly the power of her sister and mother, but she was beautiful and kind and loved by many—including Volusian.”

I stared in disbelief. “Volusian— in love ?” I think that was more unbelievable to me than any of the crazy acts of magic I had witnessed in the Otherworld.

“He was alive back then,” Dorian reminded me. “Not an undead creature forced to wander the worlds without peace. I imagine that would change a person.”

“Nissa loved him too, even though he wasn’t of the same rank,” continued Magia. “Onya didn’t approve, but she valued him and desperately needed his powers in a war she was waging with a neighboring kingdom. She and Ganene came up with a plan to convince the couple that they could marry after the war, once Volusian had helped lead Onya’s forces to victory. It was all a lie, though, and while he was gone, Ganene and Onya forcibly made Nissa marry a king that they were hoping to secure as an ally. Shortly after the wedding, Nissa committed suicide.”

I was totally hooked now and had nearly forgotten that Volusian— my Volusian—was the hero of this tale. It was rapidly taking on the status of a Shakespearean tragedy.

“Volusian returned to find not only that his betrothed had been given to another man but that she was dead. He was so enraged that he turned to the dark arts and ended up aiding Onya’s enemies. They brought a level of horror and devastation to the Yew Land without compare.”

Thinking of the blight, I questioned that. Of course, Volusian couldn’t have earned the “Slayer of Souls” title without doing some pretty awful things.

Magia’s eyes grew thoughtful. “It’s almost certain the Yew Land would have been completely destroyed, but Onya and Ganene were finally able to trap and capture Volusian. They decided simple execution wasn’t a great enough punishment for what he had done, and so he was killed and cursed into the state you found him. Without his assistance, the Yew Land’s enemies backed off and made peace.”

“Well,” I said, still a bit stunned, “that certainly explains why he hated the Yew Land and Varia so much. I can’t say I approve of his actions, but it is a little sad that in the end, Onya’s line defeated him after all.”

“I don’t know about that. Varia met her end,” Dorian pointed out. “Surely that will give him some peace in the Underworld.” Dorian sighed. “That really was an inelegant way to kill her. That’s what happens when you act in the heat of passion.”

It may have been inelegant, but it had most certainly saved my life. I didn’t know how long it would have taken him and the others to subdue Varia through other means, and the odds were good that she might have really made our heads explode. I was happy to be alive and have Dorian err on the side of crudeness in accomplishing the task.

In some ways, the journey home felt longer than the initial one. The conditions were much better—and actually made for faster travel—but we were all anxious and impatient to see how our kingdoms had recovered. Traveling through the blighted lands we’d passed before was actually pretty inspiring. Most had returned to their initial temperatures, facilitating the melting of snow. Of course, that offered another set of problems. Mud and floods became commonplace, and the food situation couldn’t be remedied overnight. When we passed through the Palm Land, I looked at the giant trees with regret. The blight’s end wouldn’t bring them back to life.

“Those won’t grow back anytime soon,” I murmured regretfully.

“But they’ll grow back faster than you think,” said Kiyo. “Remember where you’re at.”

Around the eighth day of travel, the road shifted and brought us into the Rowan Land. The land sang to me, its energy radiating out to me in a palpable wave that brought me to a halt. I gasped, overwhelmed by that force and life pouring into me. I jumped off the horse and ran off the road, falling to my knees on the muddy ground. I sank my fingers into it, closing my eyes in ecstasy as I felt the land’s welcome.

I breathed in the air around me, which was back to its typically mild temperature. There was an overwhelming scent of water and dirt, but as a light breeze ruffled my hair, I sensed something else ... the promise of growth and new life. Opening my eyes, I saw little but a dark, muddy landscape, but I could tell the plants and trees were on the verge of making their comeback. Kiyo had been right. I had to remember which world I was in.