bullet and leaving me with pain meds and antibiotics. That was about all I saw of Roland in those initial days of recovery. It was my mom who stayed with me the most, talking about anything that wasn’t Otherworldly and making sure I had entertainment in the form of books and TV. I could pay little attention to those diversions, though, not when my mind was on so many other things. I would turn the events of the previous weeks over and over in my head until I grew too weary to string any coherent thoughts together. When I reached that exhausted point, I would usually just let my mind go blank for a while. It was oddly soothing, particularly since I so often woke up from nightmares about Leith. An empty mind was sometimes welcome.
And it was my mother I went to when my period came. She’d already bought a pregnancy test too, just for peace of mind. When it came out negative, I stared sobbing. My mom held me in bed and rocked me the whole time, saying, “I know, baby, I know.” It was odd because I didn’t even know why I was crying. The negative test was a good thing, and I was glad there were no loose ends with Leith. As she held me-the first time I’d really let anyone touch me since Art’s house-I suddenly wondered how she had felt when she was pregnant with me. Had she been repulsed by the thought of the half-gentry child forced on her? Had she wanted to get rid of me but been unable to in the Otherworld? I shuddered, not wanting to ponder that too much. Thinking I was cold, she went and got me a sweater.
It was a few days later that Roland and I finally talked. I was more mobile then and had come downstairs to make a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. He strolled in and joined me, sitting at the table with his coffee. His face seemed to have more lines than the last time I’d seen him. My fault, no doubt.
“I’m sorry,” I said when the silence grew too hard to bear. “I…I should have told you.”
He looked up from his cup. “Which part exactly?”
“All of it. Everything. I…” I sighed. “You were always so mad that I was spending time in the Otherworld at all. I thought you’d be upset if you knew the rest.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m much more upset to hear it now than I would have been then.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again, not knowing what else to say. “It all just happened so fast. There was that fight with Aeson-”
“I know, I know. Kiyo gave me the details of that, though he too was a bit surprised to find out you can conjure up hurricanes worthy of Storm King now.”
I shook my head. “I’m a long way from that. And once I started learning the magic…I just can’t stop.”
Now Roland sighed. “He’s been by a couple of times.”
It took me a moment to realize he meant Kiyo, not Storm King. “I’m not ready to see him.”
“I know.” There was a pause, and I think it took a lot for Roland to say his next words. “He’s not so bad. Relatively speaking.”
I gave him a sad half-smile. “Yeah, he’s great.” And I meant it…but something was bothering me about Kiyo, something that kept nudging me in the back of my head. I continued to ignore it.
“So what happens now?” Roland asked. “What are you going to do?”
I stared in surprise. “Well…what else would I do? The same thing I’ve been doing.”
“What, running back and forth between the worlds, trying to act like you have some semblance of a normal life?”
The tone of his voice hurt me. “What do you expect me to do? And it’s not like our lives have ever been normal.”
He shook his head. “This is different. You can’t do this. You can’t literally live in two worlds.”
I munched on my cereal for a moment to give me a chance to think. “I don’t really see that I have a choice. That land is bound to me. If I neglect it, it dies.”
Roland said nothing.
“Oh, come on! You think I should do that? Abandon it and let all those people suffer? You’re as bad as Art.” The mystery of what had happened to Art’s body and to Abigail was…well, a mystery. No one had told me exactly, save that it had “been taken care of.”
Roland’s eyes flashed with anger. “No, I’m nothing like him. Don’t ever make that mistake. But the gentry aren’t our people. They aren’t your people.”
“They are now,” I said, surprising myself.
He stood up, his entire posture weary and defeated. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what to think of you. I don’t even feel like I know you.”
In all these years together, he’d never raised a hand to me. But in that moment, it was like he’d slapped me. “What does that mean?” I asked. I meant to sound defiant. Instead, my words came out very small and very scared, much like a pleading child’s. I remembered how grateful I’d been to see him at Art’s. My father. My protector. “Do you not…do you not love me anymore?”
He’d started to walk away but paused to look back. His blue eyes took me in for several moments. “Of course. I will always love you. You’re my daughter. But…I’m not sure if things can ever be the same.”
Roland walked out of the kitchen, and that’s when I realized it was time for me to leave.
Tim nearly knocked me over when I got back to my own house. My mom had called him to tell him I was okay when I’d first come to her place, but between my recovery week and the week at Art’s with no contact, Tim had done a fair amount of freaking out.
“What happened? Are you okay? I dealt with Lara while you were gone. You would have been proud.” I smiled, more pleased that he’d called her by her first name instead of “bitch secretary.” “Do you want me to make you something?”
“You sound like my mom,” I teased. “Always wanting to feed me.”
He shrugged. “You’re too skinny. And I don’t say that lightly, considering the kinds of girls I go after.”
He was right both about me and his choice in women. They’d fed me at Art’s, but I’d hardly eaten any of it. I’d lost a lot of weight, and while part of me wanted to bulk back up by tapping the bag of Milky Way candy bars in my pantry, I knew I should probably be delving into some serious nutrition for a change. So, I dispatched Tim to cook up some steak stir-fry, a request he was more than eager to accomodate.
I spent the rest of the day restless and bored, unsure of what to do with myself. I did some laundry, despite Tim’s protests that he could do it, and scarfed down lots of his stir-fry. The animals were all there, which led me to believe Kiyo was still staying there too. After I’d refused to see him at my parents’, I half-expected him to have moved out.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to do now. I didn’t plan on going to the Otherworld anytime soon, and there was no way-as I told Lara later on the phone-that I could take any new jobs for a while. This made both Tim and her nervous about my accounting, but I knew my savings account was at least temporarily secure.
My magic I left completely alone. I wasn’t going near that, even though there were times the air and the water vapor around me would call to me like a siren’s song, and I’d burn to touch them. The one bit of magic I did use was shamanic: I tried to summon Volusian. He didn’t come. I wasn’t sure what to think of that.
I was almost grateful for nightfall so that I could go to bed and stop trying to figure out things to pass the time. I wondered if this apathy was just a natural consequence of the trauma I’d been through, some kind of numbed state. TV, my puzzles, even Tim’s cheery chatter…none of it could hold my attention. I wasn’t bored, exactly. I just wasn’t very engaged with the world.
That night, just as I used to do, I dreamed of the Thorn Land. The dream was so vivid and real. It was like I’d stepped outside my own home to go walking in the foothills, like my soul was traveling on without my body. The air was sharp and clean, filled with the fragrance of desert flowers. The sun was warm and merciless-yet comforting in its familiarity. And the colors…the colors made my dream self want to weep. Peaches and greens and all the colors of the cacti flowers looking up at the clear blue, blue of the sky. For the first time since my capture and rape, I felt at peace. I felt whole and healed in the dream.
I woke up with a longing in my chest, like there was a piece of me missing. The sharpness of it startled me-and scared me a little. Tossing on a robe, I made my way out to the kitchen, hoping coffee and breakfast would shake off that all-consuming desire to run to the Otherworld.
“Kiyo,” I exclaimed. He sat at the table with coffee, both dogs at his feet. I had a weird déjà vu from coffee with Roland yesterday and suspected there was “a talk” in store for me.
“Eugenie,” he said, looking up from the paper. His eyes were warm and chocolate-brown, filled with so much love. He rose from his chair and approached me, arms open. I started to go into his embrace but something made me shrink back, some protective instinct of my body’s to keep itself safe. I knew he wasn’t Leith. I knew Kiyo
