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 ways 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.
Once that was done, we had little time to dally. My men and I traveled back to the Thorn Land, and there, in the evening darkness, I performed the same type of magical connection with my kingdom. The response was the same, and when I was finally able to trudge into my bedroom, I was certain I’d fall right to sleep. Normally, I felt flustered when servants waited on me, but tonight I was grateful someone else was off packing and taking care of my supplies for tomorrow.
Those same servants had piled the fire high in my room, bringing the temperature to a level that might even be too hot later—but which was wonderful now. The staff had also taken pains to pile my bed with blankets and pillows. What I was pretty sure they had not placed on my bed, however, was Dorian.
I sighed. “What are you doing here?”
He was sprawled on top of the covers, propped up on some of the pillows with his hands resting behind his head. From the way he’d been gazing upward, he had the look of someone lost in dreams and imaginings. Or world-dominating machinations.
“I came to talk to you, of course.” He stayed where he was, and I took a chair near the bed’s side. “You didn’t really think I would accept your cursory explanation about where you’ve been all this time?”
“You know where I’ve been. And why I was there.”
He managed a half shrug. “Yes, yes. But what about your children? Aren’t you going to tell me more about them? I’d hoped Shaya would do the womanly thing and interrogate you in detail, but she let me down. And of course I couldn’t quiz you on such things in front of the others.”
“Of course,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your harsh, manly reputation.”
“It would take a lot more than talking about infants to do that, my dear.”
I stretched out my legs, surprised at the small aches in them. “Okay. What do you want to know? I’m not going to tell you where they are.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned his thoughtful gaze back up. “I don’t know. Tell me the essentials. What are they like? What are their names? Are they really in good health after being born so early?”
“Their names are Isaac and Ivy,” I began.
“Isaac?” he repeated.
“It’s a nice name. A human name.”
“I’m aware. But it’s not the name I’d give to a conqueror of worlds,” explained Dorian. He considered. “I would’ve gone with Thundro or Ragnor. I might just call him Thundro anyway.”
“That’s ridiculous, and you know it. Their names are Isaac and Ivy. And my son’s not going to be a conqueror of worlds.”
“So you say. Now go on.”
I thought back to his questions and felt my stomach turn queasy as the twins’ faces flashed to my mind. “They’re like ... well, they look like me. So far. No trace of ... him. Other than that, it’s hard to guess too much what they’ll be like. And they’re small, of course. Smaller than what’s ideal. But everything’s there—there and perfect. Plus, they’re growing more and more each day. Pretty soon they’ll be able to go home.” I didn’t elaborate on what “home” meant—partially because I wasn’t even certain—but did go on to explain what had happened in the NICU. Dorian bore the usual gentry look of surprise and confusion at the technical lingo, but when I was finished, he actually seemed impressed.
“Well, then, it sounds like it’s a blessing they were somewhere that could help them get through all of this,” he said. “But tell me, how are you handling all of it?”
I stifled a yawn. “Not looking forward to a long journey in the snow. Also not excited that we don’t know exactly where we’re going, but compared to the alternative, I guess it’s—”
“No, no,” he interrupted, sitting up so that he could meet my gaze. “Not this Yew Land nonsense. I’m talking about being away from Ivy and Thundro. How are you coping with that? It can’t be easy, being apart when they’re both so fragile.”