I watched Ivy’s fingers twitch in her sleep and felt an ache in my heart. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I thought when I came back ... well, I thought I had this all figured out. I thought the danger would be gone, but it turns out maybe not.”
Surprise lit Evan’s features. “If they’re in trouble, you know we’ll do anything to keep them safe.”
“I know,” I said, smiling. “Believe me, I know.”
And that’s where things got difficult. I’d intended to bring them back to Tucson with me. When I’d finally accepted what Kiyo had told me about Dorian, I’d even begun plans for introducing Ivy and Isaac to their Otherworldly heritage. Then ... as time passed, I began to doubt myself. Kiyo’s words came back to me, about how Maiwenn still thought Isaac might be a potential threat. Worse than that were the insinuations that the twins could be at risk simply from those seeking to make a power play against me.
I could almost dismiss that last fear. After all, with the Otherworld still recovering from the blight, conquest wasn’t on many people’s minds. And yet ... I knew enough of gentry nature to know some might think it an acceptable risk to take advantage of weaker kingdoms. I also had the haunting examples from recent times of those I loved being used against me. I’d scoffed at Varia’s attempt to blackmail me for the Iron Crown, but what if she’d held Isaac in her arms when she’d made the threat? What if she’d done that weird mind melting on him? Yielding the Iron Crown’s power to her and helping her conquer kingdoms would have seemed like very unimportant things in that moment.
Dorian’s words came back to me, when I’d lamented about those I cared about being used as hostages:
“I can probably protect them if I take them with me,” I told Evan. “I have lots of ways to keep them safe.” A castle, rings of guards and magic users ... the Otherworld was filled with all sorts of protective means. “But I’m almost certain they’ll be safer here. I also think they’ll have a more normal life here.” Safety, as I’d found with my pregnancy, had come at a cost. Isaac and Ivy would spend childhoods in the Otherworld tailed by guards. Most royalty did. But did I want that? Here, in obscurity, they could run around outside without shadows looking over them. “How do you choose as a mother? How do you choose between ‘probably safe’ and ‘safer’? It’s really only a tiny difference, but ...”
“... but you feel like that tiny bit is crucial,” he finished.
I nodded and sank down into a rocking chair. “It’s hard not to. I really can’t ignore even the tiniest detail when it comes to their safety.”
He put his hands in his jeans and strolled over to lean against the wall near me. “You could visit anytime you want.”
“I know,” I said. I’d taken another convoluted path to get here. That would likely be the norm if I left the twins in Huntsville. Not ideal, but worth it. “These last couple months have been awful, you know. I thought about Isaac and Ivy all the time.”
“Of course you would.”
“I don’t want to go through that again, especially since we’d be talking about a much longer time.” It could be years before I felt they were safe enough to emerge from this retreat. “And yet ... I keep thinking I could make that sacrifice if it’ll help them. It’ll hurt me, no question. And I’ll hate it ... but I can do it. The problem is their father... .”
There it was. After the joy of realizing my children hadn’t been fathered by someone who wanted to kill them, a few realities had set in. Dorian wanted children of his own—wanted them fiercely. Part of me wanted to run to him right now and tell him the good news. He would be ecstatic—beyond ecstatic. It would be a dream come true.
It would also be a dream he would not allow to hide away here in the human world.
He would want to bring them to the Otherworld—not for any grand schemes, but simply to love them. I’d noted earlier that he would level cities to keep them safe. He would exercise every power he had to protect them in the Otherworld, and I doubted any argument I could make about safety here would win him over. He hadn’t believed that when my safety had been on the line. He wouldn’t accept it for his own children. Once again,
I could already foresee the arguments that would come when I told Dorian I was leaving Isaac and Ivy where they were. I doubted he’d have any luck finding them. A search in the human world was difficult enough for someone like Kiyo and nearly impossible for a gentry. But there would be no peace for me. Dorian would never stop trying to get me to tell him where they were. Any attempts at rebuilding our former relationship would always be affected by this, and that hurt me in a different way.
“Is he a danger to them?” asked Evan.
“Huh?” It took me a moment to remember I hadn’t elaborated on why the twins’ father was “the problem.” “No,” I said. “Absolutely not. He would love them. He would do anything for them—except leave them here, even if it’s for the best. He would want them too badly.”
“I can understand that,” said Evan earnestly. “You keep using ‘would.’”
“He doesn’t know he’s the father.” I sighed. “If I tell him ... it’ll be the happiest day of his life. If I don’t, I’m the only one who suffers from being apart from them. He’ll be in blissful ignorance.”
Evan shook his head. “That’s an ugly choice.”
I stared off at the dark window without really seeing it. “Not telling him now eases a lot of problems—except, one of the biggest issues between us has been about the importance of honesty and rebuilding trust. I’m especially always going off on that. What kind of hypocrite would I be to push for that and then keep something like this from him?”
Evan was silent for a few moments. “So ... you’re getting back together.”
I looked up at him, only then realizing what my words meant. Evan still wore that everything-is-okay look, but I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes. There’d been no promises between us, but he’d still had his hopes pinned on me when I returned.
“Evan, I—”
He held up his hand and gave me a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s what you want, and I’m happy for you. It has no effect on what I do for these kids.”
I still wanted to apologize but instead held back and respected his wishes. Going on and on about how sorry I was, making excuses ... well, that wouldn’t make him feel better. It would only make me feel better. He would have to process this in his own time.
“How long would you keep them from him?” Evan asked, returning to my dilemma.
“I don’t know. Years. Maybe until their teens.” I groaned. “God, that sounds awful just saying that. What kind of person even considers something like this?”
“Someone who loves their children,” he said bluntly.
“Would he forgive me when he finds out?” I asked bleakly. “Would
“No,” Evan agreed. “I’d be pretty upset. But I’d also be overjoyed to see my children healthy, safe, and well.”
I stood up and paced toward the cribs. “Would that be enough? Would it make up for the lie?”
He thought about it. “I don’t know.”
I looked between the two sleeping forms, and that’s when the tears started. I wasn’t a crier. With Pagiel’s death and even in some of the more hormonal moments of pregnancy, my tears had been pretty minimal. Now, they were an onslaught as all the hurt I’d been holding within me for so long burst out. I cried for Dorian, for the secret I would have to keep from him. I cried for Isaac and Ivy, who would spend a good part of their life never knowing the truth about their parents. And I cried for myself, because I was going to hurt every day I was apart from my children.
Evan put his arms around me and let me cry into his chest. He didn’t try to tell me everything would be okay, and I was grateful for that.
“I don’t want to leave them,” I sobbed.
“I know,” he said.
I sniffed. “I’ve never had to make decisions this hard before ... and believe me, I’ve had to make some pretty tough ones.”
