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.”
“It would,” I agreed. “Especially if it came from me.” It was also preferable to Pagiel getting banished. Unfortunately, me “reasoning” with him was easier said than done. “I have to go back.”
“Eugenie—”
“I can do it,” I said, more to myself than Roland. “I’ll be exposing myself, but it’ll be worth it—especially now that I’m not pregnant. Except, the thing is, if I leave here and let myself be known again ...” Here it was, the awful truth that had been building within me since Roland explained about the blight. “If I go to Tucson, I might as well go to the Otherworld while I’m at it. Once I’m out of here, I’m out. If there’s some way I can help undo what’s been done and save my people—to save everyone’s people—then I should do it.”
I could tell by his face that he’d been thinking along those lines but wasn’t happy about the options either. “They really are distracted,” he said. “Your enemies. They’d probably leave you alone if you could help them.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about them.”
“The twins.”
I nodded again.
He took a long time in responding. “Well, the thing is, we can pull you out of here without anyone Otherworldly knowing where you were. And that means no one will know where the twins are either. They’ll be safe.”
“I know,” I said.
“Then what ... ?”
Something in my stomach sank. “I don’t want to leave them, plus I won’t be able to contact them or get updates. And if I go to the Otherworld ... well, you know how these things are. There’s no telling how long I’ll be gone.” The first time I’d gone to the Otherworld, I’d intended to make a quick late-night jaunt. By the time that mess was over, I’d ended up queen of the Thorn Land. “I don’t want to be away from them. I know it’s silly. They probably don’t even know I’m there, but I can’t help it. I just feel ...”
“Like a mother,” he said. He put his arm back around me, seeming more at ease as the one doing the comforting.
“I suppose,” I admitted. “I didn’t think it’d happen. I’ve spent all these months afraid of them, afraid of what was happening to my body ... and now that they’re here, I can’t imagine how I got by without them. Like I said, it’s silly ... especially since I’ve barely touched them.”
“It’s not silly at all.” He was quiet for a few moments. “You don’t have to go, you know. It’s a mess, but no one expects you to take care of it.”
“I do. These are my people—in the Otherworld and in Tucson. How could I ignore them and then try to teach my children to do what’s right? I would always know I’d abandoned everyone else. Of course, if gentry start regularly raiding our world, my failure would hardly be a secret.” I laughed but found little humor in anything right now. I leaned my head against his chest, like I used to when I was little. “I have to do this. Isaac and Ivy will be okay. No one knows they’re here, and Candace and Charles have enough love for quintuplets. If the twins are discharged before I get back, they’ll be more than taken care of. It’s just ...”
“What?” he asked gently.
I felt tears start to form in my eyes and willed them away. “I just wish I’d gotten the all-clear on holding them before I left.”
“You can wait,” he said. “Wait until you can hold them, then go to the Otherworld.”
For a moment, I was tempted. Nothing seemed more important in the world—in any world—than having my son and daughter in my arms. But the longer I put off dealing with the blight, the more people would suffer. Plus, I had an uneasy feeling that if I waited much longer, I might never actually leave. My life here had been slow and comfortable, which had been good for me. It was what I had needed. It was what the twins still needed. Staying here, living a sweet, uncomplicated life with them and the Reeds would be easy. I could sink into this life and never look back....
“No,” I said. “The sooner I take care of this blight business, the sooner I can come back to Isaac and Ivy.”
Roland held me tightly. “I’m sorry, Eugenie. I’m proud of you, but I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said, pulling gently away. “This is the right thing to do. But before we leave, there’s something else we have to do.”
He gave me a curious look. “What’s that?”
I caught hold of his hand and tugged him forward. “Come meet your grandchildren.”
Chapter 11
Leaving was even harder than I’d thought it would be. And believe me, I’d expected it to be pretty hard.
It was one thing to talk of sacrifice with Roland, when I was away from Isaac and Ivy and fired up by the thought of saving the Otherworld and stopping Pagiel from pillaging among humans. Going forward with that decision, in the light of day, proved to be an entirely different matter—especially when I was back at the hospital throughout the following week. It didn’t help that the hospital staff kept regarding me like I was crazy. I knew they couldn’t imagine any “family emergency” in the world that would be important enough to justify leaving the bedsides of my NICU-BOUND children. The nurses didn’t judge—not openly—but I was certain I could see the disapproval in their eyes.
Or maybe I was just projecting.
The Reeds were equally astonished, but they had enough faith in Roland and me to believe that whatever cause was taking me away must be important. A good part of what delayed my departure was filling out the reams of paperwork that named Charles and Candace as the twins’ guardians in my absence. Presuming the twins were discharged before my return, Charles and Candace would be allowed to take Isaac and Ivy back to their home. Whenever I started discussing money to help cover the costs that such a venture would entail, nobody would listen to me.
“Nonsense,” Candace exclaimed as we were eating lunch in the hospital’s cafeteria one day. I had just brought up—for the tenth time—the idea of Roland and me pooling funds to buy baby supplies. “I won’t hear of it. What are a few baby things here and there? It’ll be nothing at all.”
I might almost have believed her if I hadn’t discovered a book on “baby essentials” lying around their house, with a shopping list in Candace’s handwriting tucked inside. Most items—and there were a lot more than “a few”—had had “x 2” written next to them, which didn’t reassure me any.
“It’s too much,” I argued. “You guys can’t afford—”
“You have no idea what we can or can’t afford,” she scolded. “You just take care of whatever it is you need to and get back to them. We’ll worry about those little ones. You don’t have to.”
It was impossible not to worry about them, though. No matter how often I told myself that the twins were out of immediate danger and simply had to fulfill their NICU time, I couldn’t help but fear maybe a doctor had missed something. Likewise, although I never doubted the Reeds’ love and devotion, I kept imagining worst-case scenarios. Candace had a dangerous job, after all. What if something happened to her? Would Charles be able to care for them on his own? Would he and Evan have to move in together to take care of the twins, like in some wacky sitcom?
These imaginings delayed me day after day until, one afternoon, Roland called me into Candace’s home office. He’d been checking
his e-mail on her computer and beckoned me over to his side. “Look at this,” he said, flipping to a news website.
I leaned over his shoulder and felt my heart sink. “Oh Lord,” I muttered. The story was about a group of “hooligans” who had raided and robbed an outdoor farmers market in Phoenix—on horseback. Reports and witnesses were as sketchy as the Tucson theft had been on TV, but there was no doubt in my mind that this had been Otherworldly in origin. The nature of the farmers market had probably made it easier for them. Food, pure and simple, with easy accessibility. “I don’t suppose they rode their horses from Tucson to Phoenix?”
“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 th
at 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.
My mother cried out in joy when Roland and I walked into their house. She raced forward, catching me in a tight embrace. I thought I heard a muffled sob and hoped she wouldn’t cry because I was pretty sure I’d start crying too. She clung to me for a long time, as though fearing I might vanish again if she let go. When she finally stepped back, she took one look at me and asked, “What happened?” My body wasn’t a hundred percent back to its original shape, but it was pretty obvious I was no longer pregnant.
“You’re a grandmother,” I said, opting for simplicity.
Since it looked like my mom was on the verge of passing out, we all moved to the kitchen table in order to recap what had been happening. Roland and I had plenty of digital pictures to share, and my mother pored over them, a look of wonder on her face that I was pretty sure mirrored mine. She grilled us on the twins’ health and the hospital’s care, then moved on to an examination of the Reeds.
For her own safety, I didn’t tell my mom where the Reeds lived. As I described them, I had a momentary weird feeling as I realized this all read like some sort of real-life fairy tale. Two children, living in obscurity with a childless couple, only to discover later that they were the offspring of a fairy queen.
Once my mother was satisfied Ivy and Isaac were getting quality care, she moved on to much more momlike things. “Did you really have to name her Ivy?” my mother asked. She wrinkled her nose. “It’s such a ... hippie name.”
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