Dark Swan Bundle

by Richelle Mead

  “We’re done with this,” I said. Power coursed into the wand. Still, she didn’t flinch.

  “The Iron Crown,” she repeated. “I know where it is. I can lead you.”

  Again, I paused the banishing and recalled something Dorian had said. “The way is blocked to spirits.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But I know the starting point. You don’t even know that. I can take you there, and you can go the rest of the way on your own.”

  “I don’t believe you. I have no reason to. You could just get me mucked up in your little investigation and then disappear.”

  This finally brought about emotion. Anger flickered in those pale eyes. “‘Little investigation?’ This is my family! Their lives! They mean everything to me.”

  “Meant,” I corrected. “You need to cut your ties to this world.”

  Her lips flattened into a straight line, as though she fought to control her temper. “I’ll take you there first. After you have the crown, you’ll help me. I’ll be the one taking you at your word. You have nothing to lose.”

  “Nothing except my life,” I muttered. “A crown that does nothing except lead me on some lethal journey is a big gamble. I don’t even believe Masthera’s crazy logic.”

  “Other spirits say it can do what she says,” the ghost said. “They’re old. They remember it.”

  Well, that at least answered one of my questions. The dubious nature of the crown aside, I understood how a ghost like this would know about something so ancient. The grief that bound her to this world might make her strong, but she struck me as a new ghost, one that would hardly know about some legendary artifact.

  “It’s all ridiculous,” I said. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Think about my offer. Summon me when you’re ready. My name is Deanna.”

  And as easily as she’d come, she disappeared, beating my banishing. Admittedly, it had less to do with my skill than with my own doubt. Her words had struck something in me. A tiny spark of wonder, wonder that maybe there was some wacky way to end this war. If the legends were true. If Deanna wasn’t lying. If I didn’t die setting out alone on a treacherous journey.

  Shaking my head, I once more chastised myself for letting her go. Next time. Next time I’d banish her to the Underworld as soon as I saw her face. For now, I had to go to Dorian. I’d wasted too much time. Hastily, I repacked my bag and went on my way.

  Tim and Lara still sat in the living room. Recognizing what the bag meant, Tim again muted the TV, an uncharacteristic look of concern on his face.

  “Eug … don’t you think going over to Never Never Land is a bad idea after getting your ass kicked tonight?”

  “You should see the other guy.” I shifted the bag, careful to keep it on my good shoulder and away from my back. “Besides, sad as it is, I think I’m safer there than here.”

  He sighed, and I couldn’t help a smile. I glanced at Lara. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Her face was as grave as Tim’s. “I don’t think we’re charging enough.”

  I laughed. “Probably not.”

  I left them for a gateway that opened up near Dorian’s. I had an anchor in his castle too, and crossing over nearby pulled me to it. I appeared in a small, empty chamber that he reserved purely for the anchor. Even injured, I’d had no difficulty making the transition. A long time ago, I couldn’t even cross in human form. I’d come over as my spirit’s totem: a dark swan. Now, coming here was as easy as stepping through a door. My power had indeed grown, something that Kiyo and my parents feared.

  I didn’t get very far down the adjacent hall before I was spotted by a servant. “Your Majesty!” he sputtered, managing a clumsy bow. “The king has been expecting you.”

  “Then take me to him,” I said.

  Dinner had long since ended, and Dorian was in one of his posh sitting rooms, surrounded by a handful of counselors and generals. To my surprise, Masthera sat there too, off in a corner where she observed rather than participated in the meeting. Dorian’s face was calm and collected as he spoke to the others, but his expression broke a little when he saw me.

  “Eugenie!”

  In a few strides, he was across the room. Something cracked inside of me too, something that was so, so glad to see him alive and well. Despite Volusian’s report, I’d needed to see Dorian alive for myself. My heart swelled, and I let go of my aversion to gentry customs. I dropped the bag and wrapped my arms around his neck, seeking his lips before he could hardly even get his hands on me. He gripped my hips as we kissed, the power of that kiss sweeping my body and filling it with heat as I pressed against him. It was suddenly easy to understand why gentry sometimes felt the need to have sex in public.

  No such option was given to me because Dorian’s hands slid up my waist, freezing when he touched the bandages. He pulled away abruptly, studying me with astonishment. I still wore my tank top, giving a full view of the hospital’s handiwork.

  “Good grief, woman,” he exclaimed. “What happened?”

  I gave as unconcerned a shrug as he might. “I got in a fight. With a fetch.”

  He stared.

  “She threw a table at me.”

  Dorian peered beyond me, over at the servant who’d escorted me to the room. “Get a healer.”

  “No, don’t,” I said. The guy hesitated, glancing between us, torn between two commands. “You need your healers for the armies. This looks worse than it is.” That wasn’t entirely true. The painkillers I’d been given were wearing off, making the scratches itchy and sore. Yet, I couldn’t shake Volusian’s words about death and injury. I wouldn’t take any healers away from the armies. I gave Dorian a warning look. “It’s fine.”

  He returned my look, locking us in a brief battle of wills. “Fine,” he repeated. He glanced over at the servant. “She says it’s fine. Far be it from me to question my lady. Come join us, dear. I assume your despicable little pet gave you the essentials?”

  A chair was quickly brought over to me, and I joined the meeting. The details of it were a blur. I was no strategist, not for this kind of war. One-on-one fights were my thing. Mostly I listened to the group, not always understanding, as they studied maps and discussed army movement and strategic targets. Borders and areas with resources—like my copper mines—seemed to be a protective priority, which was about the only part I truly understood.

  The part that really stuck with me was the recap of this battle. It had been long, even though our superior numbers had ensured victory almost from the beginning. The towns and our food were safe. The number of casualties were recounted briefly. Dorian and his advisors seemed pleased by them, considering them low. I supposed, as far as percentages went in the army, they were. Still … people had died. Gentry or not, it didn’t matter. They had families, people who loved them. People who would mourn. I felt sick to my stomach.

  The meeting closed with plans for our next move, plans I agreed to automatically when consulted. Everyone left, off for bed, except me, Dorian, and Masthera. The pleased, laconic look Dorian had worn for his team vanished once the last person was out of our sight. He turned on me, outrage in those beautiful eyes.

  “What were you thinking? I was the one who was supposed to be facing an army today. Not you.”

  “I didn’t,” I countered. “It was just a fetch. Did I mention the table?”

  “You’re making a joke out of this.”

  “No more than what you usually do.” I frowned. “And this is nothing … nothing compared to what you and the others faced.”

  His blasé expression returned. “We had a great victory.”

  “We have different ideas of victory,” I said sadly. My eyes landed on Masthera, who watched us intently. “What are you doing here?”

  She seemed to read my question as an invitation and moved to a nearer chair. “Waiting for you, Your Majesty. I sensed that you would come.”

  I scoffed. “Volusian came and said I was coming.”

&
nbsp; The comment didn’t bother her. “You’ve come to discuss the Iron Crown.”

  “Hardly.” Yet, I found myself frowning as crazy thoughts swirled in my head. Dorian arched an eyebrow of surprise.

  “Is that true? You made your feelings clear on that last time.”

  “They haven’t really changed,” I admitted. “I still don’t see it as a convenient end to all of this. Except … well, a ghost came to me today.”

  “Ghosts are always coming to you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But this one claimed she could lead me to the crown. Or rather, the place surrounding it. She needs a favor and offered this in return.”

  Masthera’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “This is it! What I’ve seen. This will bring you to the crown.”

  “Presuming this ghost isn’t part of some elaborate plan to kill me,” I said. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “No, no,” she said. “This is real. I feel it. I’ve had a vision of you crowned.”

  Dorian gave her a sharp look. “Enough. It doesn’t matter if this ghost is telling the truth. I’m not sending Eugenie off into a nightmarish landscape.”

  “Hey, you don’t send me anywhere,” I retorted.

  He rolled his eyes. “Please. Don’t start with the mock wounded pride over your capabilities. You’re a great warrior; I accept that. You defeat fetches and tables and all other sorts of fiends. But this … no. The risk is too great, and I couldn’t help you.”

  “But Your Majesty!” exclaimed Masthera. “You see the opportunity. An end to the war. The power. The fear this would inspire among others.”

  “My own fear is more than enough, thank you,” he said dryly.

  An end to the war. An astonishing thought struck me. “Gentry would suffer in the iron fields … but I’m not the only half human. I could take Jasmine with me.” Jasmine was almost as unaffected by iron as I was. Touching it caused her no pain, and it was only her cuffs’ tight binding that stunted her magic. Otherwise, to my knowledge, simply being near iron wasn’t enough to dim her power.

  “No,” said Dorian swiftly. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t have your unstable sister go anywhere near that crown.”

  “The queen is right, though,” said Masthera. “Storm King’s younger daughter might be protected by her human blood.”

  I expected another refusal from Dorian, but he remained silent. He was actually considering this, I realized. Jasmine would be a safe companion—or not.

  “No,” he repeated at last. “If she somehow returned in control of the crown … Well, I wouldn’t want to see that. She craves power too much.”

  “I thought the crown didn’t have power in and of itself,” I said suspiciously.

  “It doesn’t—but if she possessed it, others would believe she was the daughter to fear. Right now, you carry that honor. I’d like to keep it that way. You can’t go with such a dangerous companion.”

  “Your Majesty—” attempted Masthera again.

  “Enough,” said Dorian, standing up. “It’s late. The discussion is over, and I want to go to bed. You’re dismissed.”

  Masthera looked upset but didn’t contradict her lord. After a brief curtsey to each of us, she scurried away. We left as well, staying silent as we walked through the halls, past stationed guards. As soon as we were alone in Dorian’s room, I turned on him.

  “You have a lot of fucking nerve! Don’t ever talk to me like that in front of someone—like you’ve got the power around here. We’re equals in this, remember?”

  He smiled and took off his cloak and shirt. “Of course we are. And equals sometimes trade power. When it comes to you making foolish choices, I wield the power.”

  “When it comes to making foolish choices, I—never mind. Look, if there’s a chance to end this with as little bloodshed as possible, I want it.”

  “As do I.” He stood before me and ran a gentle finger along the side of my neck. “But not at the cost of your life or reputation. Find a better option, and you can go.” He moved his hands down and caught the edges of my shirt, carefully lifting it over my head without disturbing the bandages.

  “There you go again,” I growled. “Acting like you control this.”

  “I do. Just as I control this.” He grabbed hold of my waist and jerked me to him, his lips crushing mine in a fierce kiss, one that left me gasping when I managed to pull back.

  “You don’t control anything,” I said. Yet, that kiss and his closeness made me ache with arousal. Maybe it was my anger or the residual adrenaline from all my fights today. Maybe it was just relief at seeing him, no matter how much he annoyed me now. Whenever I returned from battle, sex was his way of truly confirming I was alive and safe. Today, I shared that. He was alive. I wanted him, and he knew it.

  “You see?” His lips moved to my neck, and I felt the edge of his teeth. “I’ve got the power here … and you like that …”

  “I … that is …” Forming coherent words was difficult for obvious reasons. His mouth was too distracting, as was the rest of his touch.

  He moved his lips up near my ear, his hands cupping my breasts. I pushed down his pants, feeling how hard he was as my hands slid over him. “I know you, Eugenie. I know what you want … and here? You want me in control. Really, those wounds you insist on keeping are all that are stopping me from throwing you against the wall or the bed.”

  The rest of our clothes fell off, piece by piece, while we still attempted some sort of debate. “Guess you’re not as in control as you think,” I said. We were pressed together, bare skin against bare skin. We managed to stay wrapped up with each other as we moved toward the bed.

  His hands slid up over my breasts, lingering briefly on my nipples. Then—again avoiding any wounded areas—he gripped my shoulders, and I expected him to throw me onto the bed anyway. Instead, he pushed me down onto my knees, so that my back was barely an inch from the bed, and he stood right in front of me. The tip of his huge swelling erection was right against my lips, just like the last time we’d been together, save that I’d been on my back then.

  “I still have the control. I can make you do all sorts of things,” he murmured. “Now, are you going to do this on your own? Or will I have to make you?”

  There was no coercion needed. I parted my lips and took him into my mouth. Just like the last time we’d had sex, he felt so large and long that I could barely fit him as I sucked and slid my lips along that shaft. He realized I was holding back and tsked disapproval.

  “You can do better than that.” His hands were tangled in my hair, and he pulled my head closer, forcing more of him into me, more than I thought I could take as I felt him touch the back of my throat. “More …” he breathed. “Take more … or I’ll make you….”

  I increased my speed and intensity as I took him into my mouth over and over. It was as much as I could do, and he knew it, but that didn’t matter. This was a game, a game of power. Deciding where I went and who I fought? No. He couldn’t do that. But here? He could play master.

  “Still not good enough,” he said. He took over from me, and just as he had last time, he thrust into my mouth as steadily and hard as he might have my thighs. His hold on my hair tipped my face up and made me look into his eyes, just as I was forced to take as much of him into my mouth as he chose.

  “I wish we’d done this downstairs. Should have taken you … the instant you walked into the room …” He still had that smooth, controlling tone to his voice, but it was cracking a little as the pleasure of this began to take over. “I wish the whole court could see this. You’re so beautiful … so beautiful with your mouth full of me … more beautiful still when I pour my seed into you …”

  I shivered, making a small groan of desire. He was pumping harder now, almost uncomfortably so for me, yet it was giving me a thrill of my own.

  “That was … what you … wanted, wasn’t it? Last time?” His voice was low and strained, his whole body suddenly tensing. “This?”

  He came, and
warm liquid exploded in my mouth. Although he slowed, he still continued sliding in and out as he released himself into me. Then, he pulled out, finishing his orgasm and spilling onto my lips and breasts. I coughed slightly, and he slid a finger across my lips.

  “Swallow,” he hissed. “Swallow it all.”

  I did, surprised that he’d been able to come so much both in my mouth and on me. The finger toying with my lip slid along my face and down to my breasts, rubbing in his semen. When his finger returned to my lips, I knew what he wanted. I took it into my mouth and licked his finger, sucking on it until there was nothing left.

  Smiling he helped me up to the bed and laid me down on my side, where he continued massaging my sticky breasts.

  “Wasteful,” he said at last. I knew what a big concession it was for him to forgo intercourse. “Wasteful, but enjoyable.”

  “Seeing as this was what I wanted, maybe I had the power here after all,” I teased.

  “Hush, woman,” he chastised good-naturedly. He shifted me again, so that my head rested on his chest. His hand slid down my body, his fingers moving between my thighs as deftly as they had under the table. He groaned when he felt how wet I was. “Wasteful, I say.”

  I laughed, shifting up to kiss him. “I’ve told you before, it doesn’t—ah …”

  Taunting thoughts faded away, and soon all that consumed me was his fingers stroking me harder and faster. He brought his lips back to mine so that we were locked in a kiss when I came. Agonizing pleasure radiated through my body at his touch, and my cries were swallowed into that kiss. He released me only when my shaking stopped and breathing calmed, again letting me rest against his chest. One hand stroked my hair while the one that had just got me off moved to rest on my bare lower back.

  We both sighed in contentment, and I closed my eyes, exhaustion from the day’s battles finally catching up with me. I was nearly asleep—and thought he was too—when quiet words brought me back to consciousness.