Kiyo had left shortly after that, disappearing into the throngs of oblivious shoppers. I’d let him go, both because I could do little to him in public and because I was really too stunned to react anyway. When I’d finally recovered enough of myself, I’d immediately sought out a book on pregnancy and learned he’d been telling the truth, that having sex a week before you were fertile could still result in pregnancy. I learned more about eggs and sperm than I’d ever wanted to know, but with my track record, maybe a little education wasn’t so bad.
And so, here I was, about to see my children at long last. We were pushing nearly three months since my last visit, and some part of me half expected them to be all grown up and on their way to college. I hadn’t told anyone the news about their paternity. I was keeping that close to my heart, unsure what to do with it. It could have a lot of consequences.
I rented a car and drove out to the country to see Candace and Charles. The little house looked the same, aside from its landscape no longer being dried and burned out. I’d given them a heads-up about my arrival, and they were practically waiting at the door when I arrived. Candace whooped with joy and barreled into me with a huge hug. Even normally reticent Charles embraced me. Evan was with them too, equally welcoming.
Isaac and Ivy were everything I could have hoped for and more. They were bigger but certainly a long way from college. They looked like the kinds of roly-poly babies you see on TV. No more tubes, no more oxygen masks. Just chubby cheeks and curious eyes that were constantly learning something new about the world. Those eyes made me do a double take. They’d been the dark blue of most newborns back in the NICU. Now, they were still bluish, but I could see hints of green coming in—green like Dorian’s. I almost started crying then and there.
“Look how much they’ve grown,” said Candace proudly, putting Isaac in my arms. There were no attempts at gender equality in this household. Isaac was in pajamas decorated with rocket ships. Ivy was in a frilly dress. “The doctors said the early birth might put them behind in developmental milestones, compared to other babies their age. But look—they can practically hold their heads up.”
I’d never thought of holding one’s head up as a milestone, but as Isaac’s little neck muscles fought to accomplish the feat, I saw that it truly was an amazing thing.
“They’re not really behind in anything,” she continued. “The doctors are kind of amazed at how well they’ve turned out.”
Was that the result of gentry blood? Once they passed out of the dangers of early infancy, gentry were remarkably hardy. It was hard to know for sure what was at work here, but I didn’t care. The twins were healthy and happy, which was all that mattered.
They hardly left my arms for the rest of the day. I even stepped up to change diapers because I didn’t want to be apart from them. Everything about them was perfect. Every coo, every toe, every breath. Small talk abounded, but always, the discussion wound back to the twins. No one asked where I’d been. It was obvious the Reeds worshipped everything about Isaac and Ivy, and they never tired of telling me even the smallest details about the twins’ lives. I never tired of hearing about them.
Candace finally convinced me to put them in their cribs later that night. Both had fallen asleep, and she cited some book she’d read about the early stages of infant sleep training. I didn’t follow it all but figured she knew what she was talking about. The twins had matching cribs in a bedroom that had been converted to a full-fledged nursery. There were lambs and rabbits on the walls and pastel colors everywhere.
I stayed there after she left and watched the twins sleep. Every tiny movement enchanted me. I was so caught up that I didn’t hear Evan enter the nursery until he was standing right behind me.
“I’m about to take off for the night,” he said quietly. “I wanted to say good-bye. Will you be around tomorrow?”
“Should be.”
“I’ll come back then.” His kind blue eyes drifted over to Ivy’s sleeping form. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Amazing doesn’t even cover it,” I said truthfully.
“What will you do now?” he asked. It was his usual easygoing tone, but there was a trace of worry under it. “Still thinking you might stay here? Or will you take them with you?”
I watched Ivy’s fingers twitch in her sleep and felt an ache in my heart. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought when I came back ... well, I thought I had this all figured out. I thought the danger would be gone, but it turns out maybe not.”
Surprise lit Evan’s features. “If they’re in trouble, you know we’ll do anything to keep them safe.”
“I know,” I said, smiling. “Believe me, I know.”
And that’s where things got difficult. I’d intended to bring them back to Tucson with me. When I’d finally accepted what Kiyo had told me about Dorian, I’d even begun plans for introducing Ivy and Isaac to their Otherworldly heritage. Then ... as time passed, I began to doubt myself. Kiyo’s words came back to me, about how Maiwenn still thought Isaac might be a potential threat. Worse than that were the insinuations that the twins could be at risk simply from those seeking to make a power play against me.
I could almost dismiss that last fear. After all, with the Otherworld still recovering from the blight, conquest wasn’t on many people’s minds. And yet ... I knew enough of gentry nature to know some might think it an acceptable risk to take advantage of weaker kingdoms. I also had the haunting examples from recent times of those I loved being used against me. I’d scoffed at Varia’s attempt to blackmail me for the Iron Crown, but what if she’d held Isaac in her arms when she’d made the threat? What if she’d done that weird mind melting on him? Yielding the Iron Crown’s power to her and helping her conquer kingdoms would have seemed like very unimportant things in that moment.
Dorian’s words came back to me, when I’d lamented about those I cared about being used as hostages: That’s what heartless people do. They prey on those who love.
“I can probably protect them if I take them with me,” I told Evan. “I have lots of ways to keep them safe.” A castle, rings of guards and magic users ... the Otherworld was filled with all sorts of protective means. “But I’m almost certain they’ll be safer here. I also think they’ll have a more normal life here.” Safety, as I’d found with my pregnancy, had come at a cost. Isaac and Ivy would spend childhoods in the Otherworld tailed by guards. Most royalty did. But did I want that? Here, in obscurity, they could run around outside without shadows looking over them. “How do you choose as a mother? How do you choose between ‘probably safe’ and ‘safer’? It’s really only a tiny difference, but ...”
“... but you feel like that tiny bit is crucial,” he finished.
I nodded and sank down into a rocking chair. “It’s hard not to. I really can’t ignore even the tiniest detail when it comes to their safety.”
He put his hands in his jeans and strolled over to lean against the wall near me. “You could visit anytime you want.”
“I know,” I said. I’d taken another convoluted path to get here. That would likely be the norm if I left the twins in Huntsville. Not ideal, but worth it. “These last couple months have been awful, you know. I thought about Isaac and Ivy all the time.”
“Of course you would.”
“I don’t want to go through that again, especially since we’d be talking about a much longer time.” It could be years before I felt they were safe enough to emerge from this retreat. “And yet ... I keep thinking I could make that sacrifice if it’ll help them. It’ll hurt me, no question. And I’ll hate it ... but I can do it. The problem is their father... .”
There it was. After the joy of realizing my children hadn’t been fathered by someone who wanted to kill them, a few realities had set in. Dorian wanted children of his own—wanted them fiercely. Part of me wanted to run to him right now and tell him the good news. He would be ecstatic—beyond ecstatic. It would be a dream come true.
It would also be a dream he would
not allow to hide away here in the human world.
He would want to bring them to the Otherworld—not for any grand schemes, but simply to love them. I’d noted earlier that he would level cities to keep them safe. He would exercise every power he had to protect them in the Otherworld, and I doubted any argument I could make about safety here would win him over. He hadn’t believed that when my safety had been on the line. He wouldn’t accept it for his own children. Once again, probably they would be safe. But if something went wrong, our enemies would then have two powerful monarchs to blackmail.
I could already foresee the arguments that would come when I told Dorian I was leaving Isaac and Ivy where they were. I doubted he’d have any luck finding them. A search in the human world was difficult enough for someone like Kiyo and nearly impossible for a gentry. But there would be no peace for me. Dorian would never stop trying to get me to tell him where they were. Any attempts at rebuilding our former relationship would always be affected by this, and that hurt me in a different way.
“Is he a danger to them?” asked Evan.
“Huh?” It took me a moment to remember I hadn’t elaborated on why the twins’ father was “the problem.” “No,” I said. “Absolutely not. He would love them. He would do anything for them—except leave them here, even if it’s for the best. He would want them too badly.”
“I can understand that,” said Evan earnestly. “You keep using ‘would.’”
“He doesn’t know he’s the father.” I sighed. “If I tell him ... it’ll be the happiest day of his life. If I don’t, I’m the only one who suffers from being apart from them. He’ll be in blissful ignorance.”
Evan shook his head. “That’s an ugly choice.”
I stared off at the dark window without really seeing it. “Not telling him now eases a lot of problems—except, one of the biggest issues between us has been about the importance of honesty and rebuilding trust. I’m especially always going off on that. What kind of hypocrite would I be to push for that and then keep something like this from him?”
Evan was silent for a few moments. “So ... you’re getting back together.”
I looked up at him, only then realizing what my words meant. Evan still wore that everything-is-okay look, but I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes. There’d been no promises between us, but he’d still had his hopes pinned on me when I returned.
“Evan, I—”
He held up his hand and gave me a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s what you want, and I’m happy for you. It has no effect on what I do for these kids.”
I still wanted to apologize but instead held back and respected his wishes. Going on and on about how sorry I was, making excuses ... well, that wouldn’t make him feel better. It would only make me feel better. He would have to process this in his own time.
“How long would you keep them from him?” Evan asked, returning to my dilemma.
“I don’t know. Years. Maybe until their teens.” I groaned. “God, that sounds awful just saying that. What kind of person even considers something like this?”
“Someone who loves their children,” he said bluntly.
“Would he forgive me when he finds out?” I asked bleakly. “Would you? You wouldn’t be happy to find out your girlfriend had been hiding something like this for years.”
“No,” Evan agreed. “I’d be pretty upset. But I’d also be overjoyed to see my children healthy, safe, and well.”
I stood up and paced toward the cribs. “Would that be enough? Would it make up for the lie?”
He thought about it. “I don’t know.”
I looked between the two sleeping forms, and that’s when the tears started. I wasn’t a crier. With Pagiel’s death and even in some of the more hormonal moments of pregnancy, my tears had been pretty minimal. Now, they were an onslaught as all the hurt I’d been holding within me for so long burst out. I cried for Dorian, for the secret I would have to keep from him. I cried for Isaac and Ivy, who would spend a good part of their life never knowing the truth about their parents. And I cried for myself, because I was going to hurt every day I was apart from my children.
Evan put his arms around me and let me cry into his chest. He didn’t try to tell me everything would be okay, and I was grateful for that.
“I don’t want to leave them,” I sobbed.
“I know,” he said.
I sniffed. “I’ve never had to make decisions this hard before ... and believe me, I’ve had to make some pretty tough ones.”
Evan nodded. “That’s because they were always about you. Everything changes when someone else’s life is in your hands.”
Chapter 29
My kingdoms welcomed me back, both the lands themselves and the people. Everyone was in good spirits. Most of the destruction had been repaired, and increases in both our own crops and those imported from the unblighted kingdoms were making rations less strict. In the Otherworld, the relationship between monarch and land was viewed as a sacred bond. In many ways, people saw their monarch as an extension of the land—which perhaps wasn’t so far off. What it meant was that much of the credit for the land’s rebirth was laid at my feet. I wanted to brush off the praise—particularly since I felt a lot of our success was the result of my clever servants—but I was told it was a futile goal.
I’d spent a couple joyous—but bittersweet—weeks in Huntsville before a quick stay in Tucson led me back to the Otherworld. I’d left Alabama with a gift from Candace: a baby book with records of early development, pictures, and even tiny locks of the twins’ wispy hair (which definitely looked reddish). Through a system nearly as complicated as my travel there, she promised to send regular pictures for my book so that the twins wouldn’t be strangers when I saw them again. Dorian might not find out about his offspring for a while, but I planned on checking in on them when I could.
No one mentioned him at all in the Thorn Land, so I finally cracked and brought him up to Shaya while we were inspecting a garden filled with flowering cacti. The mesquite trees were also in bloom, filling the air with a sweet, heady scent. Tucson was heading into winter soon, and while that was a pretty mild season for them, it made me appreciate the Thorn Land’s perpetually perfect climate that much more.
“Has Dorian, um, asked about me?”
She’d been studying a retaining wall with a critical eye and looked up in surprise. “No, not that I know of. I’ve only seen him once since you left. Someone else asked him about you, though, and he simply said that you had important things to tend to and would return in your own time.” She hesitated, never one to really advise on my personal affairs. “I think ... I think he’s waiting for you, Your Majesty.”
He’s waiting for you. He’d told me that before I left. Dorian had laid everything out for me. He’d proved his love and loyalty over and over. I’d told Evan I was getting back together with Dorian. I’d even sort of accepted it in my head. But something inside me kept holding back. I had yet to act and needed to. Dorian had opened his heart to me. It was time for me to answer.
I skipped protocol and traveled to the Oak Land by myself. My safety might not be an immediate concern anymore, but status said I should have an escort. I liked the alone time, though, and smiled when I saw some of the Oak Land’s trees touched with the fiery hue of autumn. Dorian wasn’t quite ready to let it slip into the season he loved, but it was getting closer.
As I approached his castle, I spared a brief moment to wonder if I should have worn gentry attire. I was in one of my favorite outfits, jeans and a Def Leppard shirt. No, I decided. This was who I was. I wouldn’t try to create an image that was more than that. Just before entering the castle, however, I did put on a crown he’d once given me. It was a delicate little thing, tiny gold roses and emeralds. I liked it because it was from him and because it wasn’t too showy.
I received a warm welcome from the guards and was led outside through one of the back entrances. I expected to find Dorian in one of the many court
yards he spent his time in but was instead taken farther out on the grounds, finally ushered into a small, pretty clearing ringed in the trees that had given the Oak Land its name. Several members of Dorian’s court sat around in the grass on blankets, making a picnic of the sunny day. Their focus was on the clearing’s center, which contained a medium-sized pond. A path of very small stepping stones extended across the water, stopping at about the middle. There, balancing on one foot on the farthest stone, was Muran. He was sweating visibly, but I doubted it was from the heat.
Dorian stood near the edge like some kind of mad ringmaster, the sunlight setting his long hair ablaze. With an elegant gesture, he made a rock float through the air and settle in the water in front of Muran. The servant—who had been starting to waver—gratefully jumped onto the new rock with his other foot.
“Eugenie, Queen of Rowan and Thorn,” announced the herald.
Dorian looked over at me with surprise that quickly turned to joy. It was such a rare outpouring of affection from his normally lazy smile that I felt weak in the knees.
“My dear,” he said. “You’re just in time. I was demonstrating the amazing bridge feat we conducted on our journey to the Yew Land. Muran is assisting me.” Another rock landed in front of Muran who immediately jumped on it one-footed.
It was perhaps one of the more ridiculous things I’d seen Dorian do with Muran—and I’d seen some pretty ridiculous things. I laughed out loud. I was suddenly so happy to see Dorian, I thought my heart would burst. Our life had been filled with so many complications that I hadn’t allowed myself to really feel or acknowledge how I felt. I had loved him for some time, I realized, and wasn’t going to deny my feelings anymore.
Ignoring propriety, I ran up to him and threw my arms around him. I kissed him hard, a kiss he didn’t hesitate to return with equal ardency. One of his hands rested on my hip, the other on my hair. He pulled me as close as we could possibly get while clothed, and my whole body turned to fire from that kiss. I felt like it would consume me, and I welcomed it.
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