Dark Swan Comic 1-4

by Richelle Mead

  Irritation crossed Kiyo’s features. “My personal feelings have nothing to do with this! He’s a huge asset on this trip. I don’t want to go to the Yew Land without him. But I don’t want to waste valuable time either.” Kiyo rested a hand on my arm. “Eugenie, please. Just think reasonably.”

  I jerked away. Whenever he talked about me being reasonable, it usually involved harm to my children.

  “Dorian’s going to get better,” I said. “Just wait until morning. You’ll see.”

  “Yes,” Kiyo said grimly. “I will.”

  I stormed off to where Dorian sat and managed to get him upright. I walked him a little ways from where the others were sleeping and tried to ignore that he moved much more stiffly than he had earlier. Once I was satisfied we were still within safety but wouldn’t interrupt anyone’s sleep with talking, I settled him back down in the grass. After a moment’s thought, I laid him down and curled up by his side. His green eyes looked dark in the poor lighting and stared up at the stars without seeing them.

  “Don’t leave me with him,” I whispered fiercely. “Don’t leave me alone. You’re the only one who really understands me in all of this, and I know Kiyo’s wrong. You’re going to get better. We need you too much. I need you.”

  I nearly started in on the same spiel I had before, about how we couldn’t pull this mission off without Dorian’s skills. Then, I reconsidered. I’d been going on with that song and dance all day—and it had had no effect. You must give them a reason to come back.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, still keeping my voice low so that only Dorian could hear. And I was certain he could. He had to. “I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you ... for a while. You’ve done a lot for me—probably more than anyone else—and I threw a lot of it back at you. That was wrong. I mean, I don’t agree with the philosophy of the Iron Crown—you know I don’t—but I understand why you did it. And I know it wasn’t done to be manipulative. Not intentionally, anyway. I know how you are. You need to get things accomplished, and when you see the most efficient way, you do it. It’s why you’re such a great leader. It’s why people will follow you anywhere.”

  No response, of course. I felt tears spill out of my eyes and was again overcome with the wrongness of this. Things like this didn’t happen to Dorian. Others, maybe. But not him.

  I rested my cheek against his arm. “You’re the only one who asked, you know. About the twins. And leaving them. I miss them, Dorian. I miss them so much. All the time we’ve spent trudging down this miserable road, lying out in the cold ... they’re always on my mind. What are they doing? Are they okay? I keep wondering if they’re out of the NICU. I hope so—and it’s not just because it means they’re better. I don’t want them spending any more time than they have to with machines. They need people and love. And the people I left them with? They’re wonderful. They’ll be good to Isaac and Ivy, but still ... I wish I could be there with them.”

  It occurred to me I was doing therapy more for myself than him. Yawning, I tried to get back on track. “I want you to meet them. I don’t know if I can ever bring them to the Otherworld, but maybe we can find a way to get you to them. We both know their father’s useless, but I want them to have men in their lives who are good and strong. You and Roland are probably the greatest men I know, and I want you both around to help Isaac and Ivy—especially Isaac. He’ll need good role models.”

  I nearly added that Isaac needed guidance to protect him from the prophecy, but that wasn’t a good idea for Dorian. “Anyway, you have to come back to me. There’s too much I need you for. Too much we still have to do. Not just the blight. You said you wanted to fix things between us and bring back the trust. I want that too—but I can’t do it without you.”

  In a movie, this would’ve been the optimal moment for him to come back to life a la Prince Charming. No such luck. He stayed exactly as he was. Feeling defeated, I wiped away my traitorous tears. The day’s weariness was taking its toll, and I couldn’t muster any more encouraging words. Nonetheless, I refused to leave his side. Maybe I was too tired for pleading, but I wanted him to know I was there. I snuggled in closer, keeping my face close to his sleeve in case any more tears broke free.

  Sleep found me in spite of my sorrow. The body always knows best, even if the mind doesn’t. I slept heavily, and no one woke me for my watch—which they really should have. I stirred in the morning, when I felt the sun’s first rays warming my skin.

  Something brushed my face, and I opened my eyes, thinking a butterfly had landed on me. Instead, I found Dorian’s fingertips touching my cheek and his eyes regarding me fondly. They were green and gold—and full of all the life and cunning I remembered.

  “Dorian?” I whispered, barely daring to believe it. A happiness and wonder I hadn’t even known I was capable of spread through me.

  “The same,” he said, just before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Did you miss me?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “A little?”

  “Okay. Maybe a lot.”

  A smile lit his features, more glorious than the sunrise around us. There was a joyous shout from the other side of the clearing. Someone had noticed he was awake. Dorian’s smile turned rueful.

  “Never a moment’s peace, is there? Well, then.” He shifted himself up, wincing a little from being inactive for so long. “Let’s go do great things, shall we?”

  Chapter 17

  None of the men seemed to show any serious aftereffects from the dryad magic, aside from dehydration and distaste for mistletoe. I watched them all with concern, especially Dorian. I thought I was managing it covertly—but apparently not.

  “I’m not going to break, you know,” he told me. We were getting ready to set out, and I was packing up my bag near him. “You can let me out of your sight once in a while—not that I mind the touching show of concern. It’s almost like you care.”

  I flushed and focused on my packing. “Of course I care. I mean, you know, because you’re my friend. And we need you. And you were hit the hardest by the dryad magic. It’s perfectly normal to be worried about you.”

  “Perfectly normal,” he agreed. His face was the picture of innocence, but I caught the amusement in his voice. There was no mention of that brief, golden moment when I’d woken up with him, but the warmth of it stayed with me for the rest of the day.

  Based on Keeli and Jasmine’s mistletoe run, we knew we could expect to cross into the Yew Land today, which sent a whole new sort of tension through us. Thus far, our journey had concentrated on the specific stages we needed to accomplish at the time—first crossing the blight, then Varia’s subjugated kingdoms. Those were big enough obstacles, and there’d been little time to talk about anything more. Now we had decisions to make.

  “No idea yet if you can cross the border?” I asked Volusian.

  “No, mistress.” The rest of our party was gathered in a circle, but he stood slightly apart. “At least, I don’t know yet if I can cross with you. I know I can’t alone.”

  “And so now we figure out where we actually have to go,” mused Kiyo. “What’s your best guess about where Varia would be keeping the talismans?”

  Volusian eyed him with disdain. “I do not guess. I make logical assumptions based on my considerable knowledge and experience.”

  I hid a smile. “Then what’s your logical assumption about this?”

  “That there are two options, mistress—straightforward ones that even most of you could deduce. Varia will either keep the objects as close to her as possible so that she can rest assured of their safety—or she will hide them in the most remote spot possible.”

  “There’s straightforward,” I pointed out. “And then there’s stating the obvious. You’re dangerously close to the latter. Is it really split that evenly? I mean, should we just flip a coin about where they might be?”

  Volusian considered. “I would recommend you assume they’re near her. Likely she’s in her capital or some other well-situated pla
ce, which will give you a more concrete goal to search. It also seems likely she’d need the objects somewhat accessible to her magic users—which would be more convenient for them in a place that didn’t require a considerable or difficult journey.”

  “So we go to the capital then,” said Pagiel eagerly. The long journey had made him restless, and he was ready for action. “You can lead us, right?”

  Volusian usually came off straight-faced, but I could often pick up on certain nuances now and then that indicated his true feelings. I got a distinct you’re-wasting-my-time vibe as he answered Pagiel: “Of course I could lead you—were I certain I can go into the Yew Land. Which I am not. As I just stated moments ago.”

  Pagiel scowled, and I quickly spoke before he tried to pick a fight with Volusian. “Then we’re going to need you to give us directions or a map or something to help us once we cross, just in case we lose you. I’m sure the layout’s changed since your day, but a few guidelines will help—and I can’t imagine the capital’s exactly inconspicuous.”

  “It isn’t,” Volusian agreed. “And it’s called Withywele.”

  “With-a-what?” asked Jasmine.

  It seemed kind of a lighthearted name for the lair of someone so conniving. Volusian gave us what info he could, and before long, we were finally ready to head out for real. Between this planning and yesterday’s “incident,” we’d lost almost a day and a half of travel time. Having food and warmth made the delay easier to cope with, but we were always aware that a day had much more impact on those still suffering in the blight.

  About five miles down the road, we crossed into the Yew Land and paused to look around. The climate was temperate, a hair cooler than the Rowan Land (when not blighted), with big deciduous trees that reminded me of the Pacific Northwest. The forest had its own set of chattering insects and animals and gave off the same rich vibe of life and fertility that the Mimosa Land had had. Both were miraculous after the snowy kingdoms we’d left behind. I was so entranced that I didn’t notice the obvious until Kiyo pointed it out.

  “Volusian’s gone.”

  I glanced to my side, where Volusian had been hovering along earlier. Sure enough, he’d vanished at the border. “No need to panic yet,” I said. “He seemed to think that would happen. I can re-summon him.”

  I spoke the words and waited. I felt the magic stir within me and then spread out when I called for him. As I did, I had the impression the magic was breaking apart and scattering, like dandelion seeds on the wind. Usually, that magic was like an arrow heading straight for him and bringing him back to me. Frowning, I took out my wand and attempted it again. I’d grown so strong in the last year that I’d no longer had to use the wand for summoning him. Now, its extra power might help.

  The magic spread out from me again, this time feeling more cohesive and stabilized ... at first. Then, after several moments, I felt it start to fracture again. No Volusian. The fact that I’d felt a change at all inspired me, and I refused to give up. Tightening my grip on the wand, I made a third attempt, using a focus and harnessing of power I hadn’t needed with him in ages. The effort made me tense all my muscles and begin to sweat, but I felt the magic hold. At long last, Volusian appeared, but he was a shadow of his former self. Often, spirits looked different between the human world and Otherworld, with a more solid form in the latter. Volusian was so strong that he appeared the same in both worlds—usually. Now, although his features were the same, he was translucent and wavering, like I’d expect to see from a weak spirit in the human world.

  “It seems my mistress’s bonds have overridden those of the Yew Land,” he said. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he sounded impressed, but he definitely seemed a little less scathing than usual.

  “Yeah, but not without a lot of effort,” I pointed out. Although I didn’t constantly have to pump magic through the bond to hold me, I had a feeling that slipping up even a little would cause me to lose him again.

  “Too much effort,” he replied. “I would recommend my mistress not call me until absolutely needed. If you exert this kind of power continuously, you may weaken yourself for Varia or not be able to command me anymore.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. I didn’t feel as though he was close to breaking his servitude, but there seemed no point exerting unnecessary effort. “And now we at least know it works. You can go.” He vanished, and I breathed a little easier.

  We continued on, all of us on high alert as we watched the forest for any sign of trouble. Dorian brought his horse up beside mine and said in a low voice, “Was I the only one who noticed Volusian actually advised you of a strategy that would keep you bound to him? Unless things have changed, I’m fairly certain he loathes and wants to destroy you.”

  I nodded, thinking back to Volusian’s words. “Oh, that hasn’t changed. But as hard as it is to believe, I think he hates the Yew Land more.”

  “That is hard to believe.”

  I smiled. “If I did keep him with me nonstop here, it’s possible I would grow too weak to bind him as my servant anymore. True, he’d be able to kill me then—but not while I was in the Yew Land. Because as soon as he broke free, there’d be nothing to pull him back. He’d be banished once again. I think he wants to be here, and I’m the only way to make that happen.”

  “Do you think he wants revenge?” asked Dorian.

  I recalled Volusian’s animosity when he’d first seen the ambassador’s statues. “Absolutely. Although ... I’m not sure on whom since everyone from that era is dead.”

  “Still, you might be courting trouble in allowing him to be here. He might act out on his own—and you might not be able to keep him in check.”

  “I know,” I said, wondering what Volusian on a rampage would look like. Not something I wanted to ponder too much. “But he’s still useful to us, which is something I don’t think we can put aside. Besides, this sounds terrible ... but all of us have the same end goals, even him. None of us like the Yew Land.”

  “Correction. Volusian doesn’t like the Yew Land. We don’t like Varia.”

  “True. Does that mean you think I’m making a mistake in keeping him around?”

  “No,” said Dorian, shaking his head. “He’s an asset. And I know how much those mean to you. You certainly told me that enough when I was entranced.”

  I groaned and looked away. “I’d been wondering how much you’d remember.”

  “Probably more than you’d like,” he said, sounding far too cheerful. “But I found it quite delightful. In fact, I’m very pleased to be invited to train up little Ivy and Thundro. That was most kind of you.”

  “Hey!” I turned back to him and was treated to a full-on Dorian smirk. “That is not what I said. Not exactly.”

  “But it’s very reasonable,” he teased. “I have skills no one else can teach your children. And it’d be a shame not to pass my legendary charm and charisma on to the next generation. A tragedy, even.”

  “Legendary, huh? That might be an exaggeration.”

  “It’s truth, my dear. And I’m willing to put it all at your disposal—I’m willing to put anything at your disposal—if it’ll help you and yours. As I keep saying: What wouldn’t I do for you?”

  I met his eyes, expecting to see some Dorian sarcasm, but he was utterly serious. I was uncomfortably reminded of this morning, when I’d woken up and seen him alive and well. Something inside of me had opened and felt more joyous than I’d been in a while. I was starting to feel that way now, and it frightened me.

  We kept our conversation to ourselves, but our growing rapport was noticeable to others. Kiyo had a lot to say about it.

  “So,” he said to me as we took a midday break, “I see you and Dorian are allies again.”

  I took a long drink from a water jug as I contemplated my answer. We’d just crossed into another kingdom, as was typical when traveling. It was always a little disconcerting to leave the place you were going to, but Volusian had assured us we’d be back in the Yew Land before long.


  “Dorian and I have always been allies.”

  “Not the way I remember it,” said Kiyo darkly. “Didn’t he lie and trick you into winning the Iron Crown?”

  “He did,” I agreed. “I don’t like it, but I’ve become more understanding of why he did it. It was for the greater good.”

  “It was for his own selfish ambition!” Kiyo cast a glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. “You know that. You know how he is. He wants to use you for his own ends.”

  “Maybe,” I said, thinking back on recent conversations with Dorian. “But I also think he wants what’s best for me and my children.”

  “He wants what he thinks is best for you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Well, considering that involves my children staying alive, I’ll gladly take that over you advising on what you think is best. You really have no business preaching to me about this, especially after I was the only one yesterday who even bothered to—”

  A shout from Rurik immediately turned me from Kiyo. The others in my party were already looking in the direction we’d just come from, and I quickly spotted what they had. I leapt to my feet and drew my weapons as a group of people on horseback emerged around a bend in the road. Seeing us, they came to an abrupt halt and drew weapons of their own.

  “Stay right where you are,” warned one of the men in the strange group. He had a curly blond beard and wielded a worn but effective-looking copper sword. “Attack us, and you’ll regret it.”

  Rurik grinned at him, but there was no genuine humor to it. “If you don’t lower your weapons, you’ll regret it. Set them on the ground now before we have to take them from you.”

  All this did was make the strangers tense and brace for battle. My group did the same, myself included. Yet, as I did, I took the opportunity to study our combatants more closely. They were all gentry, all armed, but their weapons didn’t have the uniformity or maintenance of the Beech soldiers’. This group wore nothing resembling uniforms either. Their clothing was worn and, in some cases, mismatched. Cloaks and furs were draped in front of them on their horses, like they’d been hastily pulled off when the climate had changed. Some of their faces were smudged, and all looked like they hadn’t been eating well.