Dark Swan Comic 1-4

by Richelle Mead

  It was true that my greatest adversaries were, unfortunately, also my close neighbors. I didn’t like the rest of her implications, though. Ilania was essentially saying that my own resources weren’t enough to keep me and the twins safe but that her overlord queen could.

  “Why would she offer this?” I asked, again suspicious of any gentry kindness.

  “My queen is also a mother and is appalled to see these constant attacks on you and the unborn. She finds them cowardly and wrong.” Ilania smiled sweetly. “And, as I was saying, my lady is well content with her own lands. She has no interest in the prophecy and its promise of conquering the human world. She is, however, interested in maintaining friendly relations with another woman possessed of power and command. It’s very dreary for her, having so few equals to talk to.”

  “I can imagine,” I muttered. Around us, harried servants were trying to organize the assembled throng into some type of order. “Look, things are about to get started, so I have to take my place. Send my thanks back to your queen, but tell her I’m happy to stay where I’m at for now. We’ve done a pretty good job at keeping me safe so far.” Ohio adventures aside.

  Ilania curtsied again. “As you wish, Your Majesty. My lady urged me to tell you, should that be your answer, that her offer will still stand if you change your mind.”

  I reiterated my thanks and then hurried off with Jasmine toward the front of the crowd. “That was weird,” Jasmine remarked.

  “The offer, not so much,” I said. “Everyone’s always maneuvering for position around here. But that stuff about other kingdoms? That’s weird.”

  I had no time to ponder the Yew Land further because once things got going, they were going. As the presiding monarch here, I had a front-row spot. Dorian stood near me, both because of his rank and connection to the couple. They’d originally been in his service and had come to mine when I’d seized control of the Thorn Land. Other monarchs were arranged accordingly in a complex system of status that I didn’t entirely follow but which wedding planners had been agonizing over for weeks. Jasmine, as my relative but not a reigning monarch, was a couple rows away. Beside me, Dorian gave me one of his rogue smiles, and it was hard not to smile back. Whatever animosity existed between us, it was easy to put aside for this occasion, particularly since almost a week had passed since our fight over Ohio. Besides, if anyone was going to be able to give me answers about the Yew Land and its subjugated kingdoms, it would be Dorian.

  Gentry religion was never anything I’d managed to get much of a grasp on, particularly since my hold on human religion was already pretty loose. From what I’d learned, gentry beliefs were polytheistic and nature-oriented, with specific practices and doctrine that varied widely by region. A priest of some sort was presiding today, but I’d been told he was mostly there to lend authority as a witness and officiant and that religion would have little role in the ceremony.

  Another gentry custom was made apparent as soon as the couple appeared. There was no giving-away of the bride, nor did she even walk the aisle alone. Shaya and Rurik walked together through the crowd, hand in hand, making their way to the arch of roses as equals. Few gentry even bothered with weddings, but those who did regarded them—rightfully—as occasions of great joy and didn’t believe white was an appropriately cheerful color. So, Shaya wore a silk gown of deep rosy pink and had given up her usual braids to wear her long black hair loose down her back. It contrasted dramatically with Rurik’s pale, blond features, but their expressions of happiness were a perfect match.

  The ceremony was as short and sweet as I’d been told it would be, mostly a recitation of the couple’s commitment to each other. The two of them getting together was still kind of incredible to me, seeing as they were so different. Shaya was always reserved and responsible. Rurik was arrogant and crude. Yet, somehow, they’d made it work and reached this point.

  “Why, Eugenie,” said Dorian, once the vows were complete and the crowd had erupted into cheers, “are you tearing up? I never took you for the sentimental type.”

  “No,” I snapped, running a hasty hand across my eyes. “It’s just hormones. They make me do stupid things.”

  “Right,” he said, in a tone that clearly told me he didn’t believe me at all.

  “Your Majesties.”

  Shaya and Rurik stood before us, bowing low. Custom dictated that the new husband and wife present themselves to their liege lady before they could go on to their family and friends. They’d kind of rolled Dorian into the deal too since they still regarded him as their ruler to a certain extent. I thought the custom was kind of silly. Why should the couple come to us for a blessing? This was about them. We had nothing to do with it. Still, I’d long since learned not to fight against gentry etiquette and surprised Shaya with a big hug.

  “I’m so happy for you,” I said. She had tiny roses tucked into her hair, and their scent surrounded me. The cherry trees had increased their petal production—through magic, no doubt—so that they rained down around us like confetti. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she said, flushing under the praise.

  To the surprise of both of us, I hugged Rurik too. “I’m even happy for you. Though I’m not entirely sure you deserve her,” I teased.

  He nodded. “That makes two of us.”

  “I wish you many years of joy and fertility,” said Dorian, with a genuine expression of pleasure on his face. He always wore a smirk of some sort, so these moments of pure, legitimate delight were rare.

  “Are you guys going on any kind of honeymoon?” I asked, realizing it was something I probably should’ve found out long before this. So much emphasis had been put on preparing for the wedding and its security that I’d never really thought much past today. My question was met with three puzzled looks.

  “Honeymoon, Your Majesty?” asked Shaya, clearly unfamiliar with the word.

  I was surprised by their surprise. “Er, yeah. It’s like a trip ... a trip you take after you get married. You go away somewhere on a vacation, for a week or two.”

  “To what end?” asked Dorian with a small, curious frown.

  I shrugged. “Well. So you can get away and be alone and ... well ... you know ...”

  Understanding flooded their faces. Shaya shook her head. “We’re in wartime, Your Majesty. We could hardly dream of doing anything so frivolous.”

  Typical gentry. They had no problem getting hot and heavy in public, but the idea of a private, romantic getaway was “frivolous.”

  “Besides,” added Rurik with a wink, “why do we need to leave? Plenty of places to do it around here. And in the Thorn Land.”

  “Ugh,” I said, after they’d strolled away. “How in the world did he win her over?”

  Dorian chuckled. “Well, I daresay he won you over too. You weren’t his biggest admirer when you met.”

  “That’s for damned sure,” I said. “But there’s a difference between simply learning to get along with someone and vowing to spend the rest of your life with them.”

  “The way I see it, you can’t have one without the other.”

  “That makes no sense,” I countered.

  “Love rarely does. It’s a magic beyond any in this world.” I rolled my eyes, and he extended his arm to me. “Shall we see what delights lie in store among the refreshments? Surely there’s something there that even human medicine will allow you to consume.”

  The mood was too festive for me to give him a hard time, so I let him lead me across the grounds, which wasn’t easy. Everyone passing by had something to say to us, whether it was simple congratulations or outright declarations of fealty. We had to carry on our conversation in pieces.

  “Have you found another human doctor you can see?” Dorian asked me. “In a new and secure location?”

  “Not yet,” I said. His wording wasn’t lost on me. He’d phrased it as a given, rather than chiding me for what he thought was a foolish errand, as he had last time. I knew it was a great concession for him
, and I was willing to give something back. “Honestly, I’m not sure I should. Everything’s been going so well ... with the pregnancy, that is. Like you were saying, whatever help a human doctor can give me might be undone by the dangers I’m risking by venturing out of my kingdoms.”

  Dorian nodded thoughtfully, with no hint of an I-told-you-so attitude. “Well, you’ll choose what’s best, I’m sure. Perhaps Roland might be able to suggest something when he next visits.”

  “Perhaps,” I agreed. My gaze drifted to the opposite side of the courtyard, and I felt a smile grow. “And I know Pagiel will go with me anywhere and defend my honor.”

  Dorian followed where I was looking. Pagiel, bright and full of energy, was holding onto Jasmine’s hands and trying to coax her into a dance. Gentry musicians had appeared in a corner and struck up a tune that had many skipping food for dancing. She kept shaking her head, but even I recognized the coy look of someone playing hard-to-get. It was obvious she secretly enjoyed his attentions.

  “It doesn’t bother you?” Dorian asked.

  “Nah,” I said as we finally reached the food. “He’s a good kid, and at least he’s relatively close to her age. Besides, now that I’ve claimed the honor, I don’t have to worry about her getting pregnant first.” When I’d first met Jasmine, she’d been involved with a gentry king named Aeson and dead-set on fulfilling our father’s prophecy. She, like Rurik, was someone who’d undergone a change for the better.

  I meant to ask Dorian about the Yew Land, but the opportunity never really presented itself. Aside from being distracted by those constantly coming up to talk to us, we were also just caught up in the festivities themselves. Both of my kingdoms, as well as Dorian’s, had been living in a tense state these last few months, and it was nice to have a break from that. I laughed and cheered with the others when Rurik brought Shaya out onto the dance floor and spun her around. I watched Jasmine and Pagiel flirt with youthful innocence. I even drank some sort of sweet nectar, which the chef had sworn to me wasn’t alcoholic. It was served in goblets constructed from tulips, reminding me not for the first time that my life really was a fairy tale—just not always a happy one.

  Dorian admired the happy, dancing couples and then gave me a knowing look. “I suppose I’d be wasting my time asking you to dance?”

  “You’d have more luck with one of the horses,” I said.

  He chuckled. “You’re smaller than you think, and besides, you keep forgetting how beautiful fertility is to us—not like humans, who seem ashamed of it. You’ve spent too much time among them.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I teased. “I’ve spent most of my life with them. I can’t help but think like a human.”

  “I know,” he said with mock sadness. “It’s a habit I keep hoping you’ll shake.”

  I refused Dorian’s further invitations to dance, but later, in watching him twirl around with other women, I realized the recent tension wasn’t just between our kingdoms. Whether it was my resentment over how he’d tricked me into winning the Iron Crown or simply disputes over how best to protect my twins, it seemed that Dorian and I had been bickering nonstop. It was nice to have just one evening where we were at peace with each other. I was reminded—almost—of how things used to be, back when we were a couple.

  It was after midnight when I finally retired from the celebration. Enchanted fireflies had replaced the cherry petals, illuminating those revelers who were still going strong. I slipped away without any big good-byes because I’d learned a long time ago that once you started with one, many more would follow, and it’d be hours before I’d actually get to bed. So, really, only my guards noticed my exit, several of them detaching and following me inside the castle.

  When I reached my rooms, I saw that some helpful servant had placed Ilania’s statues in there, maybe in case I wanted to decorate with them. Along with the unicorn statue I’d seen earlier, there was also one comprised of five fish balanced gracefully on top of each other. I would have that one sent off to the Thorn Land, since it seemed ironic for a desert kingdom. Tomorrow would be soon enough to put the other statue in storage here, as well as give me the chance to ask Dorian about the Yew Land since I was certain he was staying over tonight. I’d also have to make sure Varia got her token gifts. So much to do, but I was too exhausted to deal with any of it just yet.

  Thinking of Dorian reminded me of a comment he’d made. Even though I was ready to fall over, I delayed a moment to summon Volusian to me. The room, which had moments ago been warm and cheery in the summer evening, grew cold and sinister. Volusian appeared in the darkest corner, his eyes glowing red.

  “My mistress calls,” he said, in his flat tone.

  I stifled a yawn and sat on the bed, suddenly feeling smothered by the long dress. “I need you to go to Roland whenever he’s up in the morning. Ask him to come see me here when he gets time. Emphasis on the ‘when he gets time,’” I warned. The last time I’d sent Volusian with a request to my stepfather, the spirit had simply said, “You must come now.” Roland had practically killed himself trying to get to the Otherworld, certain my death was imminent. With Volusian, one had to be specific.

  “As my mistress commands,” he replied. “Is there anything else?”

  “Nope. That’s—”

  “What is that?”

  I stared in astonishment, not so much because of the question itself, but because I could probably count on one hand the number of times Volusian had ever interrupted me. He tended to adhere to his servitude tenaciously (so long as my power was there to hold him) and rarely offered up anything that wasn’t asked of him. Equally rare was him soliciting information that wasn’t essential to his tasks. It was his way of showing how little he cared about me and my affairs.

  “What’s what?” I asked, glancing around.

  He pointed at the two statues. “Those,” he declared, “are damarian jade.”

  I thought back to my conversation with Ilania. “Er, yeah, I think that’s what she called it.”

  “She?” he demanded. “Who is she? And is she here?”

  “The ambassador from the Yew Land,” I said, still kind of amazed by this conversation. “She’s here on behalf of her queen, Varia.”

  “Varia,” he repeated. “She must be Ganene’s daughter.” There was something chilling about the way he said Ganene. The word dripped with venom.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said. “They just brought me the statues and made an offer of friendship.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they would,” he replied enigmatically. “They excel at that.”

  I stood up. “Volusian, what do you know about them? Do you know how they’ve got all these subjugated kingdoms?”

  “Subjugated kingdoms? No, but it seems like a reasonable idea, mistress. One you might consider.” Volusian had calmed back down to his dry self, if he’d ever truly been upset. It was hard to tell with him.

  “Have you been there?” I asked. “To the Yew Land?”

  “Not in many, many centuries, mistress.”

  “But you have been there.”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “What do you know about Varia?”

  “I do not know her at all, mistress. As I said, I have not been in the Yew Land for many centuries. Much has undoubtedly changed in that wretched place.” His red eyes flicked toward the statues. “Except for their abhorrent taste in art. If my mistress has need, I would gladly destroy those monstrosities and blight their unsightliness from her gaze.”

  “Very kind. Why do you hate the Yew Land so much?” Before he could answer, another question came to mind. “Volusian, are you from the Yew Land?”

  He took a long time in responding. I think, had he been able, he wouldn’t have answered. The binds that held him were too strong, however.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  He offered no more. I could’ve grilled him further but thought better of it. Volusian was an old, old spirit. Maybe he was from the Yew Land, but by his own admission, he
hadn’t been there in recent times, nor did he know Varia. My guess was whatever animosity he held toward that kingdom predated her and was probably of little use to me. What intrigued me, though, was that I had my first real piece of background about Volusian. I’d always known he had done something terrible that had resulted in him being cursed to wander the worlds without peace. I now had a good idea of where his troubles may have started.

  “Is there anything else, mistress?” he asked when I remained quiet.

  “Huh?” I’d been lost in my own thoughts. “Oh, no. That’s it for now.”

  Volusian nodded in acquiescence, then began to fade into darkness. For a moment, only his red eyes seemed to remain, but then they too disappeared in the shadows.

  Chapter 4

  Life soon returned to whatever passed as normal in my world. The many guests and visitors who’d arrived for the wedding dispersed to their own lands, and true to their word, Shaya and Rurik continued their duties just as before. There was little outward sign that much had changed with them, though occasionally I’d catch them secretly exchanging happy looks.

  One guest who didn’t leave right away was Dorian. He kept saying he would. He’d even make comments that began with, “Well, when I leave tomorrow ...” But the next day he’d still be hanging around the Rowan Land. Almost a week went by before I finally brought the matter up.

  I found him out in some of the woods beyond the castle. While this was still fairly secured land, I was nonetheless trailed by quiet, discreet guards who kept a distance that was respectful but still close enough to pounce, should the need arise. Dorian was engaged in a typically Dorian activity: hunting. Well, kind of. The forest clearing was littered with thin, wooden cutouts of various animals. They were life-size and painted in bright, gaudy colors. As I approached, I saw Dorian’s long-suffering servant, Muran, nervously holding up a cutout of a pink stag. On the opposite side of the clearing, Dorian focused on them with razor-sharp intensity and drew back a giant longbow. There was a twang as he released, and the arrow shot forward, implanting right near the edge of the target’s upper body, only a couple of inches from Muran’s hand.