Richelle Mead Dark Swan Bundle: Storm Born, Thorn Queen, Iron Crowned & Shadow Heir (9 page)

I hastily averted my eyes, turning back to my own table. I found Dorian's gaze on me and knew he scrutinized my every reaction. Through some unspoken command, a blond slip of a woman slid into the empty seat beside him, the one I had refused. She draped a leg over his lap and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his neck. He moved one hand up her leg, pushing up the skirt to reveal smooth flesh, but he otherwise seemed oblivious to her as he regarded me and the other guests.

Aside from the free love and utterly medieval setting, there was almost something, well, normal about this place. The gentry I'd run into were always causing trouble in my world. Luring humans. Using magic indiscriminately. But this was like any other social occasion or party. People knew each other and regarded their friends with warmth. They discussed love and children and politics. True, they were still foreign and
other
to me, but I could also almost see them as human. Almost.

Needing to do more than sit there and stare, I reached into my coat and pulled out one of the two Milky Way bars I'd brought along. It was also a utilitarian move, seeing as how I was so hungry from watching all the feasting around me. Dorian immediately became intrigued.

“What is that?”

I held it up. “It's a Milky Way. It's…candy.” I didn't really know what else to say about it. I wasn't even sure what was in it. Nougat? I had no idea what the hell that foamy stuff was, save that it was delicious.

He eyed it curiously, and I broke off a piece, tossing it over to him. He caught it deftly.

“Your majesty,” exclaimed one of the men, “don't eat it. It's not safe.”

“It won't hurt me here,” rebuked Dorian in annoyance. “And don't even start in about poison or I'll let Bertha the cook have her way with you again.”

The man promptly shut up.

Dorian popped the piece into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Watching the expressions his face went through was almost hilarious. It took him awhile to work through all that gooey scrumptiousness, and I fostered a compelling image of him with saltwater taffy.

“Entertaining,” he declared when he'd finished. “What's in it?”

“I don't know. Some chocolate and caramel. A bunch of stuff sort of fused into other stuff.”

One woman, her hair curly and brown, fixed me with a combative look. “That's so typical of them. They twist nature and the elements for the sake of their perverted creations until they no longer know what it is they do. They are an offense to the divine, bringing forth monstrosities and abominations they cannot control.”

A snappy retort rose to my lips, but I bit it off. Volusian had warned me to be nice. In light of their relatively civilized behavior at dinner, I could do no less, so my voice stayed calm. “Our monstrosities do great things. We can fix injuries you can't. We have plumbing and electricity. We have transportation that makes your horses look like dinosaurs.”

“Like what?” asked one of the men.

“Bad analogy,” I replied.

Shaya shook her head. “We can achieve many of the same results with magic.”

“Magic couldn't do much against my gun earlier.”

“Our people survived. Only a human would brag about her ability to wield death.”

“And you in particular would have good reason to,” pointed out Rurik. “No other human in memory has killed as many of our kind—spirits or shining ones—as you. You would have killed me last week if you'd had the strength. You would have killed our people in the woods today if you could have.”

“I don't always kill. I even avoid it if I can. But sometimes I have to, and when I do…well, then, that's the way it goes.”

Glowers regarded me all around the table. Only Dorian's face stayed politely curious.

“Rumor has it you've killed your own kind too,” he noted. “Doesn't it keep you up at night to have so much blood on your hands?”

I leaned back in my chair, as always trying to keep my emotions off my face. It did bother me sometimes, but I didn't want them to know. I hadn't killed many humans—only a handful, really—and most of it had been self-defense. They'd been humans working with gentry or other creatures to do harm in my world. That had justified the kills in some ways, but I could never ignore that I was taking a life. A human life. A life like my own. The first time I'd seen the light fade out of someone's eyes—wrought by my hand—I'd had nightmares for weeks. I'd never told Roland about that, and I certainly wasn't going to tell this group.

“Actually, Dorian, I sleep very well, thank you.”

“It's
King Dorian
,” hissed a plump man across from me. “Show respect.”

Dorian smiled. The others glared further.

“The gods will punish a murderer like you,” warned one of the women.

“I doubt it. I don't murder anyone. I defend. Everyone I've killed was doing damage to my world or—in the case of those humans—helping your kind cause harm. Those who merely trespass, I don't kill. I just send them back. It's not your world, so I protect my own. That's not a crime.”

Dorian sent the blonde away with a quick motion of his hand and leaned over the couch so he could speak closer to me. “But you know it was once our world too.”

“Yes. And your ancestors left it.”

Shaya eyed me, cheeks flushing. “We were driven out.”

Dorian ignored the outburst. “You gave us no choice. Once we were all one people. Then your ancestors turned away from the power within and sought it without. They built. They subdued nature. They created things with their hands and the elements that we had only thought magic capable of. Some even surpassed what magic could do.”

“So what's wrong with that?”

“You tell me, Odile. Has it been worth it? You can't have it both ways. The ability to force ‘magic' from the world killed the magic within. Your lives shortened as a result compared to ours. Your sense of wonder disappeared, short of anything that can be proven by numbers and facts. Your people will soon have no gods but their machines.”

“And despite all this,” observed Shaya bitterly, “humans continue to flourish. Why haven't they been cursed? Why do they spawn like cats and dogs while our numbers suffer? They are the abominations, not us.”

“Their short lives, their burning need to create before they die, drive that. Their bodies can't help but produce life so readily. We do not feel that urgency.” Dorian grinned. “Well, physically we do, but subconsciously…our souls know we have time.”

“That's another wonder of modern medicine. We can help the infertile.”

Dorian frowned, again more curious than angry. “Enlighten us.”

I hesitated, suddenly regretting my comment. In as brief a way as I could, I explained artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization.

Even Dorian had trouble stomaching that one.

“This is how your numbers grow?” asked a woman near Shaya. Her voice was an awed whisper.

“Only for some,” I told her. “Most don't need it. If anything, I think we have too many babies.”

Seeing their shocked faces, I felt a little bad about upsetting them with all this. After all, I was a big advocate of respecting cultural diversity. Yet that core belief of mine wavered around these people. Maybe that was unfair, but I had spent my life being taught that they were not human. They might seem so now, but I didn't think one dinner could truly alter my ingrained views.

Shaya shook her head, face pale. “This, then, is what has displaced us from our homeland. These are the
things
that forced us from the place we came from and into the world of spirits and lost souls. We lost to twisted creatures who breed easily, who rape and pillage the earth in homage to their metal gods.”

“Look, I'm sorry it upsets you all so much, but that's how it is. You guys lost. You have to deal. You did an okay job fighting, I guess. You still show up in a lot of fairy tales and myths.
But you still lost
. History's like that. There are wars, and unfortunately, in the end, who wins and who loses is more important than who's right or wrong.”

“Are you saying your people were wrong, then?” asked Dorian quietly.

“No,” I said with certainty. “Absolutely not.”

“You're very loyal to your own kind.”

“Of course I am. I'm human. There's no choice there—especially when your people do nothing but cause trouble for mine when they cross over.”

“Look around this room. Of those gathered…I would say only less than twenty have ever visited your world. And of those, only a small amount ‘caused trouble.' You have degenerates in your world too. Yet, you wouldn't use them to define your entire race as bad.”

“No,” I agreed. “But I'd still punish them. Look, maybe I'm overly jaded toward your kind, but then, the only ones I've ever met have been the deviants. It's hard not to judge.”

Dorian stared at me for a long time, and I couldn't read him. Everyone else looked like they would have killed me on the spot, if not for the hospitality prohibition. I wondered if I'd made Dorian mad enough to regret giving his oath.

His thoughtful face changed to its typical expression, the perpetually amused and lazy one. He rose from his couch, sweeping the cloak behind him. Everyone else hastily followed suit. I took my time getting up.

“I thank you all for a lovely evening, but I must take my leave now.” He spoke loudly, so that his words carried to more than just our table. Conversation in the room dropped. “I daresay my guest is growing restless and eager for some privacy, and I do so hate to disappoint.”

The toadies laughed appreciatively, and I steeled myself not to blush again. Dorian glanced at me as we slowly walked out of the hall.

“If I offered my hand again, I don't suppose you'd take it?”

“Not a chance. I don't want to give them any ideas.”

“Oh. Well. I'm afraid it's too late for that, once they see where we're going.”

I cut him a warning look. “Where are we going?”

“Why, to the most private of places. My bedroom, of course.”

“What's the point of a bedroom? I mean, you guys seem to be more into public sex anyway.”

Dorian gestured me around a corner to his suite or wing or whatever. “What we do is natural. We don't hide it. Besides, it's actually quite titillating to know others are watching. Haven't you ever done it?”

“Sorry. I'm not an exhibitionist.”

And yet, as soon as I said the words, I thought about Kiyo. We'd been all over each other at the bar, and then we'd had sex out on the balcony. We hadn't drawn that much attention, but we could have. Just thinking about it made me shudder—in a good way.

We passed through another set of double doors with two guards standing outside. They had weapons, but I knew their magic posed the true threat.

Once Dorian had closed the doors behind us, I turned and took in the room. “My God. Why would you have sex in the dining room when you could do it in here?”

“I do do it in here. I do it in there. Honestly, it doesn't matter. I like variety.”

The room spread out for what seemed like miles, the far wall composed almost entirely of windows. It probably had a stellar view in the daytime. Everything from the paint to the enormous satin-covered bed was painted in shades of gold and wine. The torches on the wall added a charming, almost kinky touch. To one side I saw a room that must have served as a bathroom, judging from the giant marble tub. Opposite that, a parlor of sorts extended off on the other side of the room. He beckoned me there to an ornate chair with velvet cushions.

“Wine?” he asked, picking up a crystal decanter from a little table.

“You know the answer to that.”

“I'm sure a small taste won't hurt.”

“Yeah, and Persephone thought a few pomegranate seeds wouldn't hurt either. Now she rules the Underworld.”

He poured himself a glass and sat down in a chair facing mine at an angle. “Would it be so bad to rule here?”

“I'm going to ignore that question. Now look, I need to talk to you about a guy named Aeson. He kidnapped a human girl—”

Dorian waved a hand to stop me. “No business yet.”

“But I need to get her back soon—”

“And I will help you, I swear it. Now. One more hour won't matter. Sit with me, and I'll tell you a story.”

“A story? You're serious?”

“My dear Odile, I assure you I am always serious—well, no, actually that's a lie. Most of the time I'm not. But this time I happen to be. So make yourself comfortable.”

I sighed, slouched back in the chair, and took out the other Milky Way. Seeing his eyes on it, I broke it in half and handed him a piece. Nodding his thanks, he ate it with the wine, something that looked ridiculous and nearly made me smile.

“Now. Tell me something. Have you ever heard the story of Storm King?”

“No. Is or was he a real guy?”

“Very real.”

“So what, is there, like, a Storm Land or something?”

“Not exactly. He did rule a vast area, but the title was more honorary due to his ability to control storms and the weather.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

He quirked me a half-smile. “I'm guessing you don't realize just how important that is.”

“Not really. I mean, all of you have some kind of magic, right? Why not storms?”

“Ah, but to control storms and the weather is to literally control the elements. Water. Air. The fire of lightning. To see him in his fury was a terrible and amazing thing. He could call down the very heavens to smite his enemies. Few of us have such strength. I've never seen his equal, and I've lived almost two centuries. Even when crossing into your world, his powers didn't dim.”

“What do your own powers do?” That was probably something I should have known before being alone with him.

“I can summon and control materials that come from within the earth. Dirt. Rocks. Magma on occasion.”

“The magma sounds cool, but the rest…well, sorry. Not so impressive.”

Those golden eyes sparkled. “I could call down the stones that have built this keep and reduce the entire building to a pile of rubble within minutes.”

I glanced around us. “Yeah. Okay. That's impressive.”

“Thank you. Anyway. With power like that, he inevitably drew followers. In those days, we were more fractured…split into smaller kingdoms. Our political and geographic divisions are always changing. Storm King sought to remedy this. He conquered and united a number of the smaller rulers, attempting to unite all of the shining ones under his rule. He made astounding progress.”

“Was he a good king?” I was getting sucked in despite my best resistance.

“Depends on how you define ‘good.' He was a good war leader, certainly. And he was ruthless—which is an ugly but sometimes necessary part of ruling. But, with such power, he had no qualms about taking what he wanted—no matter the inconvenience to others. Those who angered him died without question. If he wanted land, he took it. If he wanted a woman, he took her. Some of those women thought it was an honor, some were taken forcibly.” Dorian paused, giving me a look both studious and sympathetic. “Some were human.”

I stiffened. “Like Aeson.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“‘Unfortunately'? You're one of them. You must have a thing for humans.”

“Of course I do. We all do—men and women alike. You all smell like musk and sex. It screams fertility. It calls to our most basic, primal instincts to reproduce. For a people whose children are dwindling, that means something. So, yes, I understand men like Storm King and Aeson, but”—he shrugged—“I've never been with a woman who didn't want me, never taken one by force. Not even a human.”

“You seem to be in the minority.”

“No, as I told you earlier, it's only a small number of us who infringe on humans. You have your own rapists. They too are only a small number.”

I shifted and leaned my head against the chair's back. “Fair enough. Get on with the story.”

He paused a moment, looking surprised, like he couldn't believe I'd conceded a point to him. I could hardly believe it myself.

“Very well. Storm King's ambitions extended beyond conquering this world. He wanted to conquer yours as well.”

“That's impossible.”

“Not so. The desire to return to our homeland burns in all of us; it would push many to extreme actions. He drew a lot of support, armies willing to cross over for this dream. He had the power to make it happen. He planned a massive Samhain invasion, consisting of shining ones and spirits alike.”

“What happened? Obviously it didn't work.”

Dorian had propped up his elbow again, resting his hand in his chin as he had on his throne. That gorgeous hair hung off to one side, a stream of molten copper. “I'll tell you in a moment. First I'd like your opinion on all of this. What do you think about this plan of his in light of your earlier noble words about conquerors and how the conquered must simply accept their fate? If our forces took yours in fair warfare, would you accept that so easily?”

“I hate hypothetical questions.”

He simply smiled.

“Okay, then. ‘Accept' is a funny thing. I mean, I guess if our armies and infrastructure were destroyed, I'd have to accept that on a certain level. Would I like it? Would I just let it go? Probably not. I'd probably always keep fighting. Looking for some way to change things.”

“Then perhaps you understand our attitudes toward you and the world you live in.”

“Yeah, but…why not let it go? You have a perfectly nice world here.”

“You're contradicting yourself.”

“Well, in the scenario you described, we don't have a new world. We're subjugated in your new one.”

“Would it make a difference?”

I stared off at one of the flickering torches. “No. Probably not. I don't know.” He was making me empathize with the gentry, and I didn't like it. I turned back to him. “What happened, then? Is this Storm King someone I should go hunt down?”

“No, alas. He's already dead.” Dorian watched me for a moment, weighing me for some purpose I couldn't understand. “Roland Markham killed him.”

I straightened up. “What?”

“You didn't know that.”

“No. Of course not. I've never even heard of this Storm King guy until tonight.”

This answer turned Dorian pensive, momentarily halting his normal jocosity. “That rather astonishes me. Storm King must have been the greatest conquest of Roland Markham's career. How can you not know? Isn't he your father?”

“My stepfather. But he trained me.” I turned the information over in my mind. “I don't know why he never told me. When did it happen?”

“Oh, about…thirteen years ago. Maybe fourteen.”

That was around the time Roland had started training me. Coincidence? Had the threat of Otherworldly invasion frightened him into defying my mother's wishes?

When I didn't say anything, Dorian continued: “Not surprisingly, Roland Markham has his own reputation around here. But some say with your kills, you have surpassed him.”

“I wish you guys wouldn't paint me like some bloodthirsty avenger.”

“Prejudice works both ways.”

“Yeah, but come on. Half the time, I just send them back here.”

“You kill enough to scare most of the people out in the main hall.”

“But that's not why you're telling me this story.”

“True enough.” He poured another glass of wine. “You are brave, Eugenie Markham. You are brave and strong and beautiful. But your perspective and view of the world—worlds—are flawed. You don't understand us. We don't behave as we do out of an evil nature. We have reasons for our actions.”

“Just as I do for mine. I don't kill because I enjoy it.”

“Well, I wonder about that, but yes, I get your point. You do what you do out of loyalty to your own kind. You want to protect them and see that they have the best lives they can.”

“This is where you say you're doing exactly the same thing.”

He laughed out loud, the sound rich and melodious. “Why, Eugenie, did we just have a moment of rapport?”

“You've stopped calling me Odile,” I noted, deflecting the question.

“We aren't in public. It doesn't matter.”

“Whatever. So…when Storm King was gathering his armies and followers…were you one of them?”

Dorian's levity faded. “Yes. I was. One of his biggest supporters, actually.”

“Would you do it again? If you got the chance?”

“In a heartbeat. I would give anything to see his vision realized. Since his death, prophecies and omens have abounded, whispering of other opportunities that might come in the future. I pay attention to them all.”

I didn't respond.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I'm trying to decide if I should break my hospitality vow and kill you.”

His good humor returned. “Do you know how glad I am that you stopped by tonight? I haven't had this much fun in years. But you won't kill me. Not tonight, at least, and not even because of the promise.”

I looked up at him again, a smile suddenly playing on my own lips. “Oh? And why are you so sure of that?”

“Because I told you exactly how I feel. If I'd lied and said I had no interest in the human world or following Storm King's vision, you wouldn't have believed me. In telling you the truth, I shall live another night. You may not like me, but I think honesty might have bought me your respect.”

“It might have.” Again, I lapsed into silence. Dorian seemed incapable of handling that.

“Now what are you thinking?”

“That you almost seem human.”

He leaned toward me, a bit closer than I felt comfortable with. “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

I gave a small, rueful laugh. “I don't know.”

“You have a lovely smile.”

“Hey, don't start with that. I don't care how honest you are or how musky I smell.”

He leaned back in his chair. “As you say.”

I still couldn't get over the idea of a massive invasion. “So, is your attitude toward Storm King pretty common? Do others feel the same way?”

“Some do, some don't. Maiwenn, queen of the Willow Land, believes he was evil incarnate. She wouldn't join up with him and thought his plan would lead us to ruin. Others gave up after Storm King's defeat. If he couldn't do it, no one could. But others…well, many others still carry the dream. Including your King Aeson.”

I sighed. “At last we get down to business.”

“If we must. So. I gather you want to remove this girl from him.”