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Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir (107 page)

BOOK: Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir
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“Oh, Eugenie!” She jumped up from her chair and hugged me again, leaving the cloak behind. “You're so awesome. Thanks so much!”
She seemed so happy that I figured it wasn't worth mentioning the plant names were coincidental. Just as my un-layered state had surprised her, I was astonished to look at her now and see how skinny she was. I could feel her ribs when she hugged me.
“What happened to you?” I exclaimed, once she'd sat down again. “You're skin and bones!”
Jasmine glanced down with a scowl and picked at her too-loose dress. “Oh, that. Well, there's not a lot of food anymore. Plus, trying to keep the lands alive takes a lot out of me.”
Guilt ran through me. I certainly knew communing with the land took a fair amount of energy, but it hadn't occurred to me until now that doing so in these conditions would be extra taxing—especially since she was just the substitute. Maybe that bonding wasn't solely responsible for her weight loss, but I didn't doubt that keeping the land in check played a role in some of the gauntness in her face.
“Jasmine, I'm so sorry—”
She waved it off. “Don't worry. It had to be done, right? Besides, once it's charged, the land can go a while in these conditions. And you did what you needed. Everything's okay with Isaac and my namesake, which was the whole purpose.”
She then proceeded to give us an account of how things had been in both kingdoms. Jasmine didn't use quite the technical language and statistics that Shaya might when describing people and resources, but she did a much better job than I would have expected. In filling in for me, Jasmine had ended up taking on a lot more responsibilities than just being the lands' caretaker. Her report gave me more specifics on the situation here, but the big picture wasn't much different from what Roland had described. As close as Jasmine was to Pagiel, she hadn't accepted any of his stolen goods—though she was undecided on whether what he was doing was wrong.
My kingdoms had, much to her chagrin, done some trading with the Yew Land. We were one of the few kingdoms that had a steady stream of resources unaffected by the cold: a thriving copper supply. We couldn't eat copper, of course, and had no other significant food sources. The crops in both kingdoms favored warm weather, and the animals in the Thorn Land hadn't been able to survive at all. The Rowan Land had some winter-ready game that had provided meat for the people, but even those animals were struggling. With limited food and a lot of copper that no one else could afford to buy, trading with the Yew Land had seemed like the only option.
“I'm sorry,” said Jasmine. “I wish we didn't have to— especially since those bastards are probably responsible for this mess.”
“It's okay,” I assured her. “You had to feed the people, and the copper was doing us no good.”
A servant arrived just then to announce a group of guests had arrived: Dorian, Shaya, Rurik, and Pagiel. “How'd they get here so fast?” I asked, once the servant went to fetch them. Jasmine had said she'd sent word, but even with magical communication, the trip from Dorian's land would've taken a while.
“They were all in the Rowan Land,” explained Jasmine. She nodded toward Roland. “He gave us a heads-up that you might be coming one of these days, so Dorian's been hanging out there. He brought Pagiel because he figured you'd want to talk to him.”
“He was right,” I said. Despite his quirks, Dorian always had a good feel for what I was thinking.
My heart leapt when I saw him. After the dreariness of the blight, Dorian's presence was a breath of life and excitement. He swept in grandly, as though this were an ordinary state visit. He wore his typically rich, brightly colored garments, with the centerpiece being an emerald green cloak made out of satin and adorned with gold embroidery. It matched the green of his eyes and made his long hair look like a wave of fire that gave the illusion of warmth. Neither he nor any of the others were wearing heavy outerwear, so they must have shed it before entering the room. Probably whatever Dorian had for the cold weather wasn't fashionable enough for him.
He held my eyes for a moment, and I was suddenly flooded by a million thoughts. How we'd said good-bye. The memories of his body that had haunted me these last couple of months. The way I'd missed him. And again, the knowledge that he maybe loved me again.
“The wayward queen returns,” he said as though none of those other matters existed. A quick assessment revealed to him what Jasmine had also discovered. “Considerably less of her.”
His tone was light, but I could tell that, also like Jasmine, he was uncertain of what had become of my pregnancy and was hesitant to presume.
“That's because I left my children behind,” I said. I kept my words light too, but their meaning left an ache inside me. “They were born about a month ago and are doing well.”
Shaya looked awestruck. “Truly? They're thriving after being born that early?” She shook her head in amazement. “Human medicine,” was all she said on the matter. From the moment I'd met her, she'd been very outspoken about humans “twisting technology,” but I think this had made her reconsider the benefits. Probably not enough to handle hearing about my C-section and the NICU, though.
Her awe soon gave way to joy. She embraced me, and even Rurik did too. Dorian and Pagiel didn't, both keeping their distance for entirely different reasons. Once the welcomes were done and we were all seated, Rurik leaned back and sighed with satisfaction.
“Well, then,” he said. “Now that you're back, we can get rid of this blight.”
There it was again. I grimaced. “Why does everyone think
I
can fix things?”
“You're Storm King's daughter,” he replied. “The weather obeys you.”
“Not
this
weather,” I said. “I mean, the little parts, yeah, but all of it? It's an enchantment that's bigger than just a weather pattern. It's permeated the core of the land ... corrupted it.”
Dorian nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. And I suspected as much—that your formidable capabilities wouldn't be enough to break this.”
Rurik seemed undaunted. “Even if it's not a matter of controlling the weather, can't all of you just ... I don't know ... band together and break the spell?”
I glanced to Dorian for this answer. Roland had hinted that something like what Rurik was suggesting had already been attempted. “Several of us monarchs tried to unite our powers and break through,” Dorian confirmed. “It was ineffectual, and I didn't get the feeling that we were close—like if we had one more person, we could have managed it. This enchantment is going to require something more, I'm afraid.”
“Maiwenn helped you,” I said, trying not to sound accusing.
He shrugged. “What is it humans say? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Right now, the blight is everyone's enemy. Maiwenn wants to end it as badly as we do, and she's a force that shouldn't be easily dismissed.”
“She plotted to have me and my children killed!”
“Yes,” Dorian said. “I can see where that would bother you.”
I arched an eyebrow at that. “Bother” was kind of a mild way to put it.
Shaya's face had initially reflected Rurik's enthusiasm, but now she'd grown grave. “We have to do something. We can't go on like this.”
My gaze fell on Pagiel, who was watching me warily. “We also can't raid the human world for food.”
He straightened up, and I knew he'd been bracing for this. “Why not? There's plenty of food there! It just sits around. And most of those humans are fat anyway. They don't need it.”
I sighed. “That's not the point. Most humans don't even know this world exists. They're not ... ready for it. Plus, what you're doing is practically an act of war. It isn't morally right.”
Pagiel crossed his arms and leaned back. “Morals don't mean much when friends and family are starving to death. And I don't even think it's wrong. Humans have plenty. We have none. Taking it from them is better than letting the Yew Land abuse us for their food.
That's
robbery right there.”
It was hard to argue against his Robin Hood logic, and seeing his stubborn expression, I knew it would take more than a “talking to” to win him over. Dorian, as his king, might be useful, but my guess was that even if he didn't actively condone it, Dorian wouldn't feel the food raids were severe enough to warrant intervention. After all, Dorian was a supporter of the Storm King prophecy. What was a little theft here and there compared to outright invasion? He probably thought Pagiel's raids were an acceptable warm-up act.
Still, Pagiel's words brought up another concern. I glanced around at the others. “The Yew Land. What do we know about them?”
“That they suck,” said Jasmine.
“Noted. Anything else?”
Dorian propped his elbow up on the chair's arm and rested his face in his hand. “Everything suggests they're responsible, though we have no hard proof.”
Rurik snorted. “No proof? That bitch queen has said she can lift the blight to those who choose to follow her.”
“Yes,” said Dorian, “but she's very careful with her wording. She doesn't say she can lift it because she caused it. She acts as though she simply has the power to—if we bend the knee.”
“Same difference,” growled Rurik.
“I concur, but it's irrelevant. We don't know enough about their magic to puzzle this out,” said Dorian.
The answer came to me like a slap in the face. “Volusian,” I said.
The others regarded me questioningly. “What about him?” asked Dorian. “I assume he's as charming as ever, though
I
wouldn't know since you went to great pains to keep him away.”
I ignored the jab. “Volusian's from the Yew Land. That's where he was cursed. It happened a long time ago, but obviously, they've still got some pretty serious magic going on. Maybe he knows something.”
Jasmine leaned forward eagerly. “See? I knew you'd know how to fix this.”
“I don't know about that. But at least it'll give us a place to start.” I stood up and spoke the summoning words. That familiar, cold feeling spread throughout the room, though for once, it was easy to shrug off. After I'd trudged through that Arctic wasteland outside, Volusian's aura felt pretty soft-core. Moments later, Volusian appeared. He inclined his head to me.
“Welcome back, mistress.”
Around me, the others shifted uncomfortably. Roland had disapproved of Volusian since the beginning, and for once, he and the gentry agreed on something. None of them liked Volusian either. Dorian had even offered to help me banish him, since the curse was too much for one person to break.
I sat back down. “Volusian, we need to talk to you about the Yew Land.”
Volusian's expression remained unchanged, but like before, I got the vibe that his former homeland was nothing he wanted to discuss. “Yes, mistress.”
“Is the Yew Land responsible for the blight?”
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.”
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