Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir

by Richelle Mead

  There was no real purpose in discussing nightshade with Art, so I got right to the point. “I’m going to kill you.”

  Art laughed that hearty, deep laugh I’d once found endearing. “Forgive me if I’m not scared.” He turned to Cariena. “Go get some more nightshade for Eugenie. And make sure Isanna is dressed and ready to go when Abigail returns.”

  Cariena was practically out of the room before he finished speaking. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s really true. When I first started putting together this fairy sex-trade theory, I thought it was as crazy as Roland thought it was. But it’s really true. Where’s this Isanna going? Is Abigail taking her to her new owner?”

  He leaned back and crossed his legs. “I suppose you could say that. I like to think of it as her new loving home. The man who bought her is very eager to welcome her.”

  “You’re a fucking bastard,” I growled. “Selling them like they’re property.”

  “Might as well be. And if it makes you feel better, I don’t sell all of them. Cariena there…hmm, well, she’s not pretty enough to get a good price. Easier to keep her around for house calls.”

  “House calls.” I started to feel sick again, and it had nothing to do with the nightshade. “Basically, you’re whoring her out. You sell sex slaves and run a brothel—and yet, all the while, you play hero shaman like you’re doing the world a good deed. Roland couldn’t say enough nice things about you.”

  Art straightened up, feet hitting the floor as a flash of anger shone in his eyes. “I am doing the world a good deed—this world. Those girls? They’re nothing. They aren’t human. And you…” He shook his head. “You’re one to talk about image. You play hero shaman too, when in reality you’re off commanding gentry armies. Does Roland know? Does he know what you really are? I’m sure he has to know you’re a half-breed mongrel, but does he really know the extent of it?”

  White-hot rage burned within the drug-induced haze of my mind. “I think you forgot the part where I’m going to kill you.”

  “And you forgot the part where I said I’m not worried.”

  Cariena returned holding a coffee mug. I eyed it warily.

  “What are you going to do with me?” I demanded. “You would have killed me already if you could, yet you probably aren’t going to let me go now that I know your dirty secret. Are you going to sell me off too? Keep me for yourself since you don’t like gentry?”

  Art shook his head and approached my bed. “Eugenie, you couldn’t pay me enough to keep you around. I’d take one of these idiot girls any day. Turn on the microwave, and they’re so scared that they’ll stay docile for weeks.”

  He gestured Cariena to his side and reached down to hold my head in place. I realized what he was going to do and began thrashing. With one hand he tried to keep me still, and with the other he partially held my mouth open.

  “Do it,” he said. Obediently, Cariena poured the liquid from the mug into my half-open mouth. As she did, she mouthed, I’m sorry. The stuff tasted horrible, and I gagged on it. I tried to spit it out, but Art promptly covered my mouth until I had to swallow. That bitterness flowed down my throat, and I could feel a new wave of numbness start to sweep over me.

  “Yes,” said Art, almost cheerfully. “You’re trouble. I don’t want you. I don’t know any human who would. But fortunately, we got an offer from someone who isn’t.”

  I think he was smiling that stupid smile again, but I could never say for sure. The force of the nightshade flooded through me, pulling me into fuzziness, then darkness, and then sleep.

  I immediately noticed two things when I came to later. One was that Art was still in the room, though I think he’d just returned and hadn’t been watching me sleep.

  The other thing I noticed was that I was uncuffed.

  I didn’t waste any time. I promptly leapt out of the bed and charged him. Unfortunately, I didn’t really make it off the bed so well. The nightshade was chugging along in my system, and my limbs barely had the energy to stay upright. I fell off the bed and collapsed into an ungraceful pile on the floor. Cariena was there too, holding a bundle of clothing, and started to come help me. Art shook his head, and she froze.

  “Looks like you won’t be killing me today,” he said.

  “You fucking bastard,” I said, tossing one arm on the bed and attempting to pull myself up. “How long was I out?”

  “Oh, an hour or so. That’s usually the worst part of it for humans. Now that you’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Cariena’s going to help you look respectable.”

  I glared at him. I didn’t know who’d stripped me down to this T-shirt and underwear, but if it had been him, he’d die extra slow. The scathing look he gave me suggested, however, that he found as little pleasure in me as I did in him.

  “You can’t keep me here,” I warned, managing at last to sit back on the bed. “Someone’s going to come looking for me.”

  “Who?” he asked. “You were the idiot who wandered off from your people. None of them saw you taken. None of them saw me or any of my companions—well, except for your two meager guards, and they won’t say anything to anyone ever again.”

  With a sinking feeling, I knew he was right. Nobody knew what had happened to me. I’d mentioned the Yellow River theory off and on to a few of my friends, but none of them had any reason to suspect that was connected to my post-battle disappearance. If anything, they’d probably think there’d been another demon on the loose.

  “Who the hell were your companions anyway?” I demanded, recalling the trained fighters. “Did you hire a mercenary army or something?”

  Art only smiled. “Cariena, get her dressed.” To me, he said, “Cooperate, or she’ll be the one who suffers for your disobedience.”

  He left, shutting the door behind him. I heard the snick of a lock. Across the room, Cariena watched me with big, terrified eyes. She feared both me and Art. I sighed. “It’s okay. I’ll get dressed. I don’t want to run around in my underwear anyway.”

  Visibly relieved, she stepped forward and unfurled what she held: a dress. A gentry-style dress.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “Isn’t there something else?”

  Cariena cringed. “It’s all he gave me.”

  I eyed the bedspread, almost wondering if I could go all Scarlett O’Hara and make something for myself. Then, seeing Cariena’s pale face, I yielded again. I wouldn’t let Art beat her or give her to some guy because of me. I took the dress from her but discovered I couldn’t put it on without help, not with my weak muscles and groggy motor control. Being in that state infuriated me. I hated being helpless. More upsetting still was that I was essentially free, unbound and able to move about…but I had no means to fight or defend myself. I could barely even stand. I was a prisoner in my own body.

  The dress was a mix of lavender and pale blue. I guess you’d call it periwinkle, which I’d always thought was a dorky name. It was made of smooth, clingy velvet that hugged my body and laced up the back corset-style. The sleeves were long and form-fitting, and the scoop neckline was much lower than my usual style. I’d only wear something that showed that much cleavage if I was going on a date with Kiyo—or trying to coax a favor from Dorian.

  Kiyo and Dorian. It sounded pathetic and all damsel-in-distress, but I would have given anything to have them here right now.

  Cariena clasped her hands and studied me almost adoringly. “You look beautiful, your majesty. I see now why you have so many suitors back in our world.”

  Our world. “Well, I don’t think my beauty plays quite as much a role as you think.”

  She produced a brush and undid the knotted ponytail in my hair. “I don’t know if I want to be beautiful or not. I used to think I did. But since I’m not, no one will take me from here.” She sounded grateful.

  “You are beautiful,” I said sharply, angry at what Art had said. “And someone is going to take you from here—me.”

  Cariena gave me a small, sad smile, but fo
r the first time, I thought there might be something like hope in her eyes. A knock at the door startled her back into timid mode as she leapt up from where she’d sat beside me. “Oh! He’s here.”

  “Who?” I asked. Surely Art wouldn’t have knocked.

  The lock clicked, and the door opened. Leith walked in.

  “Leith!” I exclaimed. He looked as I’d seen him before, clad in a red and white silk shirt, dark hair glossy and swept from his face in a ponytail. I wanted to jump up but knew I’d fall to the floor again. “Thank God.” Someone did know I was here. I wasn’t lost forever. I wanted to tell Cariena we were on the verge of freedom, but she was already scurrying out of the room and hastily shutting the door.

  “Eugenie,” breathed Leith, striding toward me. He knelt on the ground and caught hold of my hands where I sat. “You are stunning…as beautiful as I remember. No, more so. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed you.”

  A chill crept along my spine. Something was very, very wrong here.

  “Leith…we have to get out of here. You have to help me—and these girls. There are horrible things going on here.”

  “We can leave,” he said. “But not quite yet. Not until everything’s settled.”

  I tested his hand to see if I could free mine. I couldn’t. “Until what’s settled?”

  “Until then,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken, “you’ll have to stay here where no one can find you. But I promise I’ll visit you every day.”

  “I can’t stay here! I have to get back to…anywhere that’s not here. Tucson. The Thorn Land. Anywhere! Leith, what the hell is going on? Why are you here?”

  “Because you are. Because Art got you for me.”

  That chill down my spine spread to the rest of my body until I felt cold all over. I tried jerking my hand away again but didn’t possess the strength. “How do you know Art? Oh God. Please tell me you aren’t working with him.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. I help him collect girls in our—in the Otherworld.”

  “Girls from my kingdom,” I said, the realization coming suddenly. “That’s why none of yours were ever taken.”

  Leith had the grace to look sheepish. “I don’t take important ones, Eugenie. Just peasants. No one notices they’re missing.”

  “Their parents do.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter. My soldiers help round them up, and I bring them to Art and Abigail to do what it is they do.” My soldiers. The soldiers who always wore red, just like Leith did now. Normally, red shirts made me think of Star Trek extras, but in this case, it was in tribute to the Rowan Land’s flag and emblem. The soldiers Jasmine and others had seen weren’t Aeson’s deserters. They’d been sent by Leith to help Art and Abigail with their abductions.

  “They sell them, Leith! How can you stand by and enable that? They sell those girls to horny guys against their will. What can you possibly get out of it to justify having that on your conscience?”

  “This.” He gestured around. “Art and Abigail share things with me…their knowledge from this world. I take it back to mine.”

  I stared in disbelief. “And then you pass it off as your own. That’s why everyone thinks you’re such a technological genius. Did you really devise those irrigation plans for me yourself?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I had help. But does it really matter? Look, you don’t know what it’s like. You’re strong. Your magic grows more powerful every day. But me? I’m a joke. I can’t inherit. Proving myself with my ‘genius’ was the only way to get any respect…and even that wouldn’t be good enough to let me inherit. Until I met you.”

  “Leith—”

  “I know what you said, but my feelings haven’t changed. I love you. And I know if you just spend a little more time with me, you’ll love me too. We connect. There’s something between us. It’s more than just about power.”

  I leaned back. It was the only way I could put distance between us. “I’m not so sure about that. You think I’m your meal ticket to holding on to the Rowan Land.”

  “Not just that land, but all the lands! This world too. Eugenie, when you bear my son, you’ll see that I’m right.” There was a zealous glow in his eyes, and I couldn’t decide if he was crazy or just really, really believed these things would be true if he said them. Maybe there wasn’t a difference. “I can make you happy—and I know you can make me happy. You’re so beautiful….”

  He moved up to sit beside me on the bed and ran one hand along my velvet-covered leg. “Leith…don’t…”

  “I just need to get you pregnant,” he said earnestly. “Don’t you understand? If I bring you back to our world carrying my child, everything will be solved. Art told me…he told me how you stop yourself from conceiving. How you take some potion every day.” His hand moved up to my hip while his other touched my face and stroked my hair. I tried to back away, but his grip was too strong in my addled state. “He said if you’re away from it long enough that you’ll be able to have a baby….”

  I swallowed. My heart was threatening to pound out of my chest. “No…it won’t work. You can’t get me pregnant—because I already am.”

  His caresses froze. “What?”

  “You were right before about me being involved with Dorian. Kiyo was a cover. He’s not worthy—he’s no one I’d want to father my child. Dorian and I have been lovers for a long time now in secret. We were afraid of what his enemies would do if they found out. I’ve been pregnant for…” What wouldn’t show? “…two months. It’s too late for you, Leith.”

  He had gone perfectly still, save for his eyes, which were searching my face thoroughly. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying. Everyone knows how you bicker with the Oak King. You aren’t lovers.”

  “We are. He’ll kill you when he finds out.”

  Leith shook his head and slid his hand from my hip to my stomach. “There’s nothing here. Not yet.”

  Panic flooded me, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Every other time I’d come close to being raped flashed through my mind—and there had been far more of those times than I would have liked. And every time, I had escaped the situation. Yet that never made the next time any less terrifying. This was no exception.

  “Leith, please don’t do this.”

  His hand moved fumblingly to my breast, and then he pushed me back against the bed. “It’s okay,” he said, speaking as one would to a child. “It’ll be okay. You’ll like it. I promise.”

  “Don’t do this!”

  His mouth was on my neck, and lovesick boy or no, there was definitely a man’s sexual need there. I struggled against him, trying desperately to free myself, but I might as well have truly been a child. With that fucking drug in me, both my body and brain were a mess. My body had none of its ability to fight him or stop him from pushing up my skirt. My brain had no clever ways to talk him out of this. And as he took off his own clothes and laid his body on top of mine, pressing me down, I realized he needed no handcuffs to keep me subdued. The strength of his hands pinning my wrists was more than enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  There is no real way to describe rape.

  Sex with Kiyo or Dorian, the men I loved…well, I could have described that for hours in exquisite detail. I could have elaborated on the way they stroked my hair or the way their lips touched my skin. Even with Dean—my cheating bastard ex—sex had still had its share of affection and joy, back when things had been good between us.

  There was none of that with Leith.

  Well, not on my part, at least. And I think that’s what made it especially bad. For him, with his crazy infatuation, it really was an act of love. He visited me often over the next few days, and each time he took me against my will, he’d tell me he loved me and attempt some sort of gentleness and affection. The horrible part was, I couldn’t even resist that. It barely required any force on his part to make me submit. Honestly, I wished it had been violent. I wished he’d been cruel and brutal.
I’d spent my life in fights, dealing with pain and blows. There would have been something comfortingly familiar about that, like it was just another battle for me. The twisted love he showed for me during each act of rape, however…well, that made it harder to bear.

  In that time, I only saw Art once. Abigail checked on me a number of times, and I learned that it was she who mixed the nightshade, though Leith had taught her the recipe. Cariena was the one I saw the most. She seemed to have been installed as the live-in maid and occasional sex toy for visiting guys. When I arrived, there had been three other gentry girls, but Isanna—the one I’d heard mentioned that first day—left shortly. She was very pretty, and Abigail seemed particularly happy at the price she’d gotten for her.

  The other two were stunning as well, and they seemed to glumly accept that their time would come. They faced it without much emotion or protest, like condemned criminals going to the gallows. Mostly, their faces were like pieces of a dream. I was kept so heavily drugged that my moments of clarity were few—though the drugs never made me forget what Leith did. None of the other girls had to be drugged; the iron was enough for them. Cariena told me, however, that when other women had required the nightshade, they hadn’t taken nearly as much as me. Art and Abigail were too afraid of me getting loose, so they gave it to me more frequently than usual.

  “When will you know?” Leith demanded one day. He had just arrived and stood outside my room, arguing with Abigail. The door was ajar. “I thought you people had the ability to tell this kind of thing.”

  “We can,” snapped Abigail. “But not this soon. You’ve probably got to wait at least two weeks. Besides, you don’t seem to mind passing the time that much.” The sneer in her voice came through loud and clear. I made a mental note to choke the life out of that bitch.