A pause. Then: “Most certainly, mistress.”
The others exchanged surprised looks. I shared the sentiment. With Volusian, such a direct answer was rare. Even though he was compelled to obey me, he excelled at finding ways to evade the truth.
“That’s not quite the same as ‘yes,’” I pointed out.
“Indeed,” Volusian agreed. “I have not been to the Yew Land in centuries. I have not spoken to Queen Varia. I have seen no spells cast. Without that, I cannot say, ‘Yes, they caused it.’ This magic that’s blighted these lands feels exactly the same as the sorts of spells the Yew people work. It is possible someone else has learned their magic—but unlikely. Hence my answer: most certainly.”
“Fair enough,” I said. Volusian-logic was wearying sometimes. “I don’t suppose then that you know how to break the enchantment.”
Volusian’s tone remained flat. “Of course I do, mistress. I have known for some time.”
I nearly jumped out of my chair. Rurik actually did.
“What?” I cried. “Why the hell didn’t you tell someone sooner?”
I couldn’t be certain, but I thought I saw the tiniest shrug of Volusian’s shoulder.
“Because, mistress,” he said. “You never asked.”
Chapter 13
“God. Damn. It.”
It was one of those times—and believe me, there’d been many—when I wished I really could just blast Volusian into the Underworld. Usually those times also just happened to be when I desperately needed him. This was no exception.
I saw anger and disbelief kindling on the others’ faces. I knew how they felt and had to remember that this was typical Volusian operating procedure. By the terms of his servitude, he really hadn’t done anything wrong. Although I often asked him to give me a heads-up on useful information, he was under no obligation to deliver news I didn’t explicitly ask for. In fact, if I had a standing order for him to tell me “anything important,” I was pretty sure he would talk my ear off nonstop, just out of spite. His hatred for me and the Yew Land must have put him in quite the bind here. Who should he inconvenience the most?
I gritted my teeth. “All right, Volusian. Tell us about the enchantment.”
“The spell originated in the Yew Land,” he said. “Obviously. And that’s where it’s maintained from. I am not familiar with Queen Varia, but I find it unlikely she alone is working magic of this magnitude. Most likely, it is the collaboration of many who have pooled their powers together to establish the enchantment. Even then, a group of magic users could not maintain a spell so vast for so long. There is most certainly a physical component tied into this magic, objects that allow the Yew Land magic users to connect to the afflicted lands.”
I didn’t entirely follow that last part, but understanding filled some of the others’ faces. “We already thought of that,” said Dorian. “We destroyed all those ghastly statues the ambassador left behind. It had no effect on the blight.”
I’d nearly forgotten about those tacky green and white monstrosities that had been gifted to all of us. Looking back with the power of hindsight, I could see now how those sculptures would absolutely be perfect Trojan horses. Varia could have infused them with magic that maintained the blight spell, and then we’d unknowingly keep them on hand, ignorantly obeying the rules of etiquette. It was the perfect explanation—except that Dorian’s words completely contradicted it.
“Because those are not the objects tied to the spell, Oak King,” said Volusian. “This type of enchantment required much planning, and Varia and her conspirators would hardly leave the critical components around at your disposal.”
“Then what are they?” demanded Rurik.
“The other gifts,” I murmured. I remembered when Ilania the ambassador had given me the statues, one for each kingdom, and how she’d said she looked forward to seeing what we gave back in return. Needing to match her kingdom’s custom, I’d given haphazard orders to send some token back with her. I’d never followed up. I had no idea what my people had given to her. “Ilania made the rounds in all our kingdoms, distributing her crappy art, which then obligated all of us to give her something back.” I turned to Shaya. “We sent her with something, right?”
Shaya’s eyes were thoughtful. “Yes. We gave her a very rare vase from the Rowan castle’s original art collection. Later, she said that she would also like to take back something representative of the Thorn Land, no matter how small, so I made arrangements for that. She was very insistent it be from that land. I believe it was some sort of copper plate, but I can find out for sure.”
“No need,” I said. “What matters is that we gave her something. And you did too, right?” That was to Dorian. He shrugged.
“Perhaps. I don’t pay attention to such trifles.”
I repressed an eye roll. Dorian might not keep up on his household’s day-to-day affairs, but I had no doubt some wily servant had made sure the rules of etiquette were followed on his liege’s behalf. And, in fact, I was willing to bet every monarch in the blighted kingdoms had followed suit.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I asked Volusian. Everything was starting to fall together. “All the gifts we willingly gave are what are being used to maintain the Yew Land’s spell. They’re tied to our kingdoms and were given freely. The ‘freely’ part must be crucial. Otherwise, she would’ve just stolen random things. The gifts provide a physical connection to us that the magic’s being worked through, allowing the blight to continue so long as she possesses those objects.”
“That would be my assumption, mistress.”
“And they’ve probably got those objects under lock and key.”
“Another valid assumption, mistress.”
“Would destroying these objects break the enchantment?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Volusian. “With no tangible tie to your lands, the Yew magic users would have no way to maintain the enchantment over such a long distance.”
Remembering that there was always the potential for information that Volusian wasn’t readily providing, I racked my brain for other pertinent details. “Is there any other way to break the enchantment?”
“You could kill or incapacitate the magic users.” There was something about the way he said “incapacitate” that made it sound worse than killing. “However, destroying the talismans are most likely the simplest solution. They would all be kept in one place. The magic users can be scattered at any given time, and it is unclear how many are needed for the spell. If Varia has planned well, she will have more on hand than she actually needs, should something happen to one or two of them.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” said Rurik. It was clear he had less patience than I did for Volusian’s communication style. “We head over there and break all the gifts.”
“‘Over there’ could mean a lot of things, I’m guessing,” remarked Dorian. His voice was lazy and smooth, but there was an eager glint in his eye. What was a recent problem for me had plagued Dorian and the others for a long time. No doubt he was as anxious as Rurik to finally make progress. “Particularly since none of us have been to Varia’s realm. Can you provide us with a more specific location within the Yew Land?”
“No,” said Volusian. “I am forbidden to cross its borders. The magic that exiled me prevents me from entering.”
“Damn,” I muttered. Volusian was annoying, but he was good in a fight.
“However ...” Volusian hesitated, something I had rarely seen, as though deciding whether or not he should speak. “That spell is old. There’s probably no one alive from the time it was cast. The spells that bind me to you, mistress, are not as strong as that original curse, but they are powerful in their way—and newer.”
I frowned. “What are you saying?”
“One of the most basic and powerful parts of my enslavement to you is that I must come when you summon me. There is a chance that if you commanded me to come to you in the Yew Land, our bonds would be strong enough to bring me to your
side—even within that kingdom’s borders.” He paused again, this time for dramatic effect. “Or there is the possibility I might not show.”
“Well, that ambiguous answer aside, the important part right now is that we really don’t have any way of knowing exactly where in the Yew Land these objects are,” I said. “So, if we send people after them, it would be a blind mission.”
“It’s better than nothing,” said Rurik.
Dorian smiled at him. “Crudely put, but true. Our lands can’t go on like this. We need to take some action, no matter how remote our chances are.”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, watching the flames of the fireplace dance. There were some ugly choices ahead. I didn’t believe much in destiny, but I knew then that this was the reason I had returned to the Otherworld. “I’ll go.”
Roland straightened up. “Eugenie—”
“Don’t,” I said. I gave him a gentle smile. “I know you’re worried, but you also knew when I came back that I’d be signing on for something like this.”
“Actually,” he said wryly, “I was hoping you’d just do some hocus-pocus and fix things in a day.”
“I would if I could,” I said, a lump forming in my stomach. I wasn’t an expert on the Yew Land—not yet—but knew the venture we were about to undertake would last a lot longer than a day. It could take us days—even weeks— to get there. Those were all days I’d have to stay away from Isaac and Ivy.
“I’ll go too, of course,” said Dorian. “Nothing I love more than a winter’s journey.”
Rurik and Shaya exchanged glances at this. “Your Majesties ...” she said carefully. “Is it wise ... is it wise for you both to go? For either of you to go? The risks ...”
“I’d rather die trying to save my kingdom than watch it wither around me,” said Dorian, in a rare show of fierceness. “If I die in the attempt, the land will simply find someone else to bond with. Perhaps he or she will then be able to succeed where I didn’t. Either way, a triumphant ending.”
I wasn’t so sure I’d call that triumphant, but I could hardly chastise Dorian for going when I was signing up for the same risks. What I was not so open to was Jasmine volunteering.
“Why not?” she asked when I began to protest. “I’m pretty badass, you know.”
I shook my head. “That’s not in dispute. Someone has to stay and commune with the lands. You’re the only alternative.”
“Dorian’s leaving his kingdom,” she pointed out. “And he doesn’t have backup.”
It was a fair point, one I didn’t have a ready answer for. “The land can go well over a month without me,” he remarked. “Especially in these conditions.”
“Wouldn’t it need more help in these conditions?” I argued.
“Oh, it needs you, no question. But the land isn’t thriving in its normal way. It’s in a kind of stasis. If we’re away longer than we expect, you and the land will miss each other ... but let’s face it, the land can’t get too much worse if we’re a couple weeks late.” Jasmine had hinted at that, I recalled now. The laconic smile on Dorian’s face contrasted weirdly with his next words. “Besides, these kingdoms won’t survive in two months anyway. No harm done.”
“Gee, you have a cheery way of looking at everything,” I muttered.
He grinned at me and nodded to Jasmine. “On a more practical note, we’re going to have to travel through some pretty miserable conditions. Having two weather-working sisters along would be welcome.”
It was another good point. Certainly I’d eased my journey with Roland earlier. Jasmine’s specialty was magic tied to moisture, which would come in handy with the snow. Dorian’s comment also provided cover for something else I’d wanted to bring up. I turned to Pagiel.
“I suppose he’s right. And by that same reasoning, we could really use you if your air magic can combat any of this,” I said. I hesitated and frowned before continuing. “Although, I hate to drag you into it. If your mother gave me grief for my doctor’s visits, God only knows what she’ll say about this.”
Pagiel’s eyes were stormy. “I’m too old for her to tell me what to do! I don’t care if it’s dangerous. You need me, and I’m going.”
It was hard to keep a straight face. Something amusing flashed in Dorian’s eyes, and I knew he’d guessed my ruse. Score one for Eugenie and reverse psychology. In truth, I actually wasn’t thrilled about exposing Pagiel to this dangerous journey. It was simply a matter of choosing the lesser of evils, however. If Pagiel was with me, he wasn’t out attacking humans. I’d been afraid suggesting he go with us to the Yew Land would make him suspicious, but he seemed pretty confident it was all his decision. I hoped this boded well for my future parenting skills.
After further discussion, the only two people not going were Roland and Shaya. Roland, though not a fan of the Otherworld, had volunteered to help. I’d declined the offer and given him a look that said I’d explain later. That was enough for him. Shaya, however, was much harder to convince. Although she was strong and a good healer, I wanted her back here to manage the fragile state of affairs in my kingdoms. Rurik, being the macho but good-hearted husband he was, simply wanted her kept safe. That was what she took issue with.
“I’m not made of glass!” she exclaimed to him. “I used to be a warrior in the Oak Land’s royal guard.”
“And now you’re my wife, so trust me when I say you’re better off here,” Rurik said. I think he had noble intentions, but the heavy-handed words weren’t the best thing he could’ve chosen. She grew more incensed, and it was only my command that got her to back down. From the way she kept glaring at him, it was clear she held him responsible, and I suspected Rurik would be sleeping on the proverbial couch.
Once the rest of us, along with some handpicked fighters, were committed to go, our meeting dispersed. We planned on leaving tomorrow, and everyone had individual preparations to make. Roland intended to go back to Tucson now and reluctantly agreed to let some of my guards escort him to the gate so that he could go on horseback.
“I’d love to have you in the Yew Land,” I told him as I walked him out. “But honestly ... I’m worried that while Pagiel’s gone, some of his cronies might get the same idea about ‘shopping trips’ to the human world.”
Roland grimaced. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. He’s a bright boy, the kind others follow.... Hopefully none of them will have the initiative to act on their own. I’ll be on watch, though.”
Outdoors, the same bitter cold greeted us. Roland was bundled up again, but I’d foolishly ventured out in just my jeans and sweater. Not far from the door, his escort waited discreetly and patiently. I wrapped my arms around myself.
“Roland ... if something happens to me ...”
“Eugenie ...”
“I know, I know. It sounds pessimistic, but well ... everything’s changed. There are things we have to plan for.”
“The twins,” he said grimly.
I nodded. “If something happens to me, then I totally trust you to do whatever you think is best. If that means leaving them where they’re at, fine. If you and Mom want to take them, fine too. Whatever will give them a good life and keep them safe from my enemies.”
Roland’s face showed he didn’t like this conversation but knew it was necessary. “I hate to echo Dorian, but if something does happen to you, you probably won’t have many enemies left to come after them.”
“Then something good comes out of this, right?”
He gave his head a rueful shake. “Be careful, Eugenie, so that we never have to find out the answers to any of these things.” He hugged me and then shooed me inside. “Get back in there and get warm. If you think about it, send that fiend of yours to me every once in a while with an update.”
“I will,” I said. It was difficult watching him go. He was my last bit of contact with humanity. I was now once again fully enmeshed in Otherworldly affairs.
Before I returned inside, I caught the attention of a sentry standing a little wa
ys down the hall. She inclined her head politely at my notice. “Your Majesty.”
I glanced back at the door and frowned. “When I first ruled here—back when the desert took out all the crops and water—we had refugees showing up here. And for the war too. Why hasn’t anyone come this time? They’re in just as bad a shape, right?”
The sentry’s face fell. “I’d say they’re in worse shape, Your Majesty. The blight has killed more people than either of those times. For many, journeying here through these conditions would prove far more deadly than making do where they’re at, no matter how miserable.”
I thanked her and went upstairs, her words hitting me hard.
Since my party’s plan was to depart from the Thorn Land tomorrow, I set out tonight for a quick journey to the Rowan Land to do what I could for it. An escort of guards went with me, and we again rode to save time. I also continued using my magic to clear the snow. Some part of me worried about expending my energy, but I felt strong and couldn’t stand to watch the men and horses struggle.
The people in the Rowan castle bore the same looks of hope that their Thorn brethren had. I was glad to give them something positive in these dreary times but worried once more about whether I could deliver. They were equally excited to hear my children had been born safely and were hidden away among humans. The gentry nodded along as though there was nothing weird about this, and thinking once more about fairy tales, I wondered if maybe those stories had some basis in history.
Communing with the land had to be done outdoors, so while my men warmed up inside, I bundled up and sat down in the courtyard. I reached out to the land and received an answer—and better understood what Jasmine and Dorian had described. It took a lot of energy to reach the land’s heart and establish any sort of connection, explaining why she’d been wiped out. But, I could also feel what she’d meant about the land not burning through energy very quickly. It needed the power and welcomed my support, but in the blight’s hibernation, the land mostly used my energy to keep its core strong. Nothing was being expended on the living, breathing, day-to-day maintenance of the kingdom. This saddened me, but I hoped it would mean the land really could survive a while without me.
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